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It’s been said that we are created with a God shaped hole in our hearts, meant for God Himself to come and fill. Scriptures tell us that we were created for intimacy, deep relationship with God - God the Father (1JN 1:3), God the Son (1Cor 1:9) and God the Holy Spirit (2Cor 13:14). The thought is staggering that we are formed in His image, created to be indwelt, predestined to be one with the ONE. that somehow our redeemed lives reflect some unique facets of His glory, His beauty, His character. We who are mere creatures, lowly fragile humanity, yet He has set us apart for unity with Himself (JN 17:20-24). Assuredly we will not become God, yet we are invited into the depths of the Godhead’s koinonia (intimate fellowship) through the divine wisdom of the Father and the meekness and sacrifice of Jesus.


With these thoughts on my mind, I walked through the streets of downtown San Francisco today. Created in His image to be the dwelling place of God! Yet as I walked I began to see the fractured images of mankind all around me. Most were well hidden behind suits and stylish clothing, but in reality they were but a few fragile steps from becoming as destitute and ravaged as the impoverished homeless in their filth and grime.

I began to ask the questions: “Where do You desire to dwell? Do you long to dwell in these who are so broken and helpless? They are created to know You, but who is there to tell them? Do they have ears to hear?” In my walk, I see the destitute, the mentally handicapped and mentally ill, the prostitute stoned out of her mind, half naked on the street, the repulsive. Then there is the woman with no legs in a wheelchair trying to hold open a door for those in fine clothing. She holds a cup in hopes of a quarter for her service. As I mistakenly offer to hold the door for her, she smiles and blesses me and I see a bit of the image of God in her.

I find myself realizing that I am among the rich; wealthy compared to these who live on the streets, who everyday hope for enough change to buy a sandwich, a pack of cigarettes, a bottle of cheap wine. I walk by them as they sleep on the pavement or stand against a building holding a shoebox lid seeking a few coins. Some are bold enough to ask for a quarter, some just stare as I walk by. I give one the left-overs from the dinner I just had - gladly he accepted it. To another I give a dollar, to another I hand a bananna and a bag of chips from my earlier lunch. Perhaps a bit of light in their day… is the image God somehow reflecting from me in these simple tokens of love? I have no words to say to them, but I pray they somehow recognize I do this because the heart of Jesus is for them. Can they somehow see Jesus in these acts of kindness?

Yet to others I say, ‘No.’ I look away not wanting eye contact. There are too many, it’s overwhelming, I can’t help them all. So I pick and choose, hoping the lives I touch are somehow touched by Him.

Back in my hotel room I wonder as I look down upon them sleeping on the streets, “Do they know they are created for intimacy? Do they understand they were made for relationship with the Almighty Eternal One, Creator of all, who shows His lovingkindness to those who seek Him?” A cry rises within my heart, ‘Who will go and tell them?’ ‘Abba, send your Spirit of revelation to their hearts today and release Your laborers into the harvest!’


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