Like an idiot, I opened it.
There was a guy on our front step, looked like a drifter -- in his 40s, dirty clothes, about two days' worth of stubble, obviously someone who spends a lot of time in the sun, judging by his weathered face.
He wanted gas in a can, or money to go buy gas. I said we didn't have any gas cans, and didn't keep cash in the house.
Did I mention my children and I were alone, as my husband was out of town on business?
I closed the door and called 911. Later, the officer said mine was the first call, but by the time he got out to our neck of the woods, he'd received about five more calls about the same person. The policeman seemed to think the guy was looking for drug money. (For a small southern city, we apparently have a serious meth and crack problem.) He assured me that he would do an occasional drive-by throughout the night, as I was clearly spooked.
Bruster, our American Bull Dog (which, for the record, is not a pit bull, but intimidating enough), barked and growled his displeasure at our late-night visitor. I think it was enough to make the guy think twice about coming back, if those were his intentions.Later, I laid awake wondering if it was possible the man really was just a hard-working day laborer who had simply run out of gas. You know, an angel unawares... "Do not forget to entertain strangers, for by so doing some people have entertained angels without knowing it." (Heb 13:2) And that by turning him away, I was turning away my Lord. "Whatever you did not do for the least of these, you did not do for Me." (Matt 25:45, emphasis mine.)
Should I have helped the guy out? Was calling the police an overreaction? I agonized over this for some time, but remembered that I did offer to call help for the man. I told him we had no gas can and no money, but that I could call someone he knew to come get him. He declined the offer.
Still... can't help but wonder... was offering no more than to make a phone call really an example of Christ-like compassion?
No comments:
Post a Comment