Ok, I knew better.

And, after the deed was done, I felt dirty and icky for doing it. Though I’ve been in denial for quite some time, I have a great friend who has consistently told me for years, “DON’T GIVE MONEY TO THE HOMELESS.”

On the face of it, sounds like a pretty anti-Christian, anti-Muslim, anti-God thing to say. That’s what my denial was. I subscribed to a school of thought that articulated a desire to give to God regardless of whom that recipient was. My line was always, “I’m not giving to that person, I’m giving to God.” That’s a load of crap.

The seedy truth underneath it all is that I was giving to satisfy my mental moral obligations while maintaining my distance and comfort. How easy is it to dig into your pocket and produce $1.00 – $5.00 and make the homeless person go away? Don’t get me wrong, giving to the poor is one of the cornerstones of faith. But giving is denigrated when its essence is an unguided blank check that has no guidance and support attached to it.

The man had walked the length of the train car I was riding in. He was respectfully asking for change, slowly working his way through the center isle. I kept my head down with my nose tucked into a book. I scanned the words, and understood nothing. My brain was preoccupied, debating giving or abstaining. He stopped next to me, asking those around me for change and I smelled pity. I clung to the notion that my crisis would be solved if he didn’t ask me for money. Mildly funny on the surface, but troubling at its core.

His pleas fell upon stone faces staring distantly into far off lands. I fought the urge to dig in my pocket as best I could. But as he turned, a feeling of disappointment began to wash over me. Here I was given an opportunity to serve someone else, “the least of these” and I was turning a deaf ear and a blind eye. I was confused.

To silence that harsh mental critic, I reached in and soothed my soul by sliding him $5.00. Holding it so others could see. Not in a boastful way, but in hopes I could sway the outcomes of the debates others might be silently waging. Evidently I was the only one in this debate.

Instead of hearing a mental pat on my back from my ever present critic, a wave of nausea ran through me. I knew that the $5.00 I had just given him would never satisfy his hunger. My $5.00 would be gone in 10 minutes, his life would be the same and he wouldn’t know how I was if I passed him on the steps outside the station. I could hear my friend JahQues words in my head, “DON’T GIVE MONEY TO THE HOMELESS.”

His mantra was, if you are going to help them, help them. Don’t enable them. So , how do you help the homeless? The most valuable thing you give them is yourself and your time.

In this instance, a conversation would have been helpful. He wasn’t mentally disturbed, was respectful and didn’t appear to be a danger. I could have purchased a meal for him. I could have asked him if new about SafeHouse, a nearby mission established to get the homeless back on their feet. I could have talked about the Atlanta Dream Center another outreach program in the Metro Atlanta Area. I could have prayed for and with him.

Whatever, I could have given him something more valuable than $5.00

SafeHouse – http://www.safehouseoutreach.org/
The Atlanta Dream Center – http://www.atldreamcenter.com