His hair was matted with grease, sweat and the smell of the streets. He pushed along the rickety shopping cart piled high with all of his earthly belongings. Old garbage bags, rusty cans and all sort of odds and ends were all he held claim to. Clothes filled with holes, worn far away from their original color hung off his hollow frame. One foot in front of the other he plugged along with the mission to survive the day.
I opened the bottle of “Gatorade” and decided that I really did not want to drink it. Knowing that I was not allowed to bring it into the airport anyway, I tossed it away with out a second thought. When I got into the gate I would get myself a cup of coffee, which was what I really wanted anyway. Still too far off to see, he did not notice when or how it hit the trashcan.
Standing on the street waiting for the bus, I could hear the squeaky wheels of the cart as he struggled onward. Then he stopped right in front of me, stuck his hand deep into the trashcan and pulled out my bottle of Gatorade. Giving it 2 quick shakes, he deemed it acceptable and put it into his cart. A good drink for later I guess. Obviously pleased with his most recent prize, he did not even bother to look around. At least today he would not go thirsty. The harvest is plenty and the workers are few.
My phone rang and my heart sank, as it was another call from Family services wanting to know the phone number for a “certain” Mom. I knew that it had been disconnected. We chatted for a few minutes on how Mom was doing. I could not tell her what I suspected. All I could say was what I had seen. The kids don’t always make it to school, the electricity is turned off in the apartment, and no attempt is even remotely being made to find a job. I could not tell her my speculations based on the stories of her children. That she is rarely home, does drugs, allows her boyfriend to do drugs in front of them and is prostituting her for a living. How about the times that I know she has gotten so drunk that she is loud and violent (to her boyfriend not the kids) and can not remember exactly what happened the next day? Yet, as I talked with her caseworker I was told that she was not going to remove the kids from the home. As long as they have a place to sleep, running water and some form of food on the table at times then there is nothing she can do. Unless I can tell her that the children are not “safe,” there is nothing she can do. They are not safe, I want to scream. However, I can’t tell her that Mom is prostituting in the home so technically they are all right. What do I do? Where is “safe?” How do I love this Mom as I have been called to? How can I “love this neighbor as myself?” The harvest is plenty and the workers are few.
He has chosen to move his family right into the center of “the hood.’ More than that he lives with his wife and his children right next door to a crack house. When the family comes home daily each side looks the other up and down. One with hope and compassion for who God has intended them to be, the other with disgust for who they think they are. This family is a city on a hill. Every evening in the upstairs room his son plays video games. But, this night he decided to go to bed early. That is when the fight broke out. That is when the guns came out. That is when the bullet came through the upstairs window. His son was safely tucked into his bed. The harvest is plenty but the workers are few.
The harvest is plenty and the workers are few. All around us rise the groans of the fractured souls. Fruit is falling from the tree and dieing. The harvest is plenty and the workers are few. So why do we turn our eyes to the ground so that we will not see?
The harvest is plenty and the workers are few.
What do I do with my anger? Is it righteous? Who am I angry with? Is it the world, or Satan or myself? Some days I can’t stop the tears and I believe my heart will cave in. All we can do is pray. Pray without ceasing. Pray with out stopping, and then pray some more. Our hearts must be broken and protected. It cannot get sucked into the hopelessness. For the Lord your God is God of gods and Lord of lords, the great God, mighty and awesome, who shows no partiality and accepts no bribes. He defends the cause of the fatherless and the widow, and loves the alien, giving him food and clothing.”
In the end we must remember that it is a mighty God who is in control. He is the God of the harvest. And the harvest is plenty and the workers are few…
