Homeless heroes in Manchester a reminder we're all made in God's image

Part of me still wants to hold on to the detail that I wasn't really homeless because it was my choice to live in my van for a summer and I did have a home I could go back to if I needed it. The plan had been to stay in a church parking lot and use its showers and washroom every morning as I took the plunge into full time rodeo ministry and a life partly on the road.

There's such a stigma attached to it that somehow a homeless person is dangerous, mentally ill or otherwise unstable and, therefore, unapproachable and less than human. If we really didn't think of them as less than human, we would treat them the same as someone we're passing in a grocery store aisle or a businessperson walking toward us on the same sidewalk. In those cases, we don't avoid eye contact, we don't panic or pretend not to hear if a stranger in that setting speaks to us, maybe just asking for the time or directions instead of change. None of those requests is any more dangerous or threatening.

Oh how human, and especially Christ-like, two homeless men in Manchester, England seem to me today as their story gets some limited attention in the wake of the latest terrorist attack.

According to the Agence France-Presse, Chris Parker was begging for change in the foyer of the theater where the concert was letting out when the suicide bomb went off Monday night. He was knocked to the ground but instead of fleeing with much of the panicked crowd, he ran into the carnage where he found and comforted a little girl, her legs now missing from the blast. He would go on to hold and comfort a woman until she died.

Stephen Jones was sleeping in the streets, somewhere nearby and did the same: rushed to the scene to help, instead of away from it. pulling nails out of children's faces and arms and legs and helping wipe away or stop their bleeding with t-shirts scattered from the explosion. Instead of finding shelter knowing more bombs could go off, both men could only think of the children and young people attending the concert.

These are just some of the heroic names we should forever remember, instead of the names of the terrorists like the one whose evil took 22 lives that night and injured hundreds of others. But more importantly in this case, we should see how much like us Parker and Jones are, instead of the differences that keep us from looking them in the eye.

Reading their stories, it pained me to think of the lesson I learned through my own response to homelessness that was brought out the first morning after I'd slept in my van.

Walking into the church to use the showers, I was wearing shorts, a t-shirt, ball cap to cover my bedhead and carrying a backpack with a change of clothes and my toiletries. To my unexpected horror, a men's Bible study was about to meet and the seniors gathered in the hallway outside the classroom were in my path to the showers. All stopped their conversation to look at me approaching and one stood in my way, wanting to know what I was doing in there. I awkwardly maneuvered around him saying I was using the shower and kept going, feeling their stares.

Only the church office new the arrangements that had been made for the summer and I instantly realized that these men thought I was a homeless person intruding off the street.

I stayed in the showers for over an hour, until they were gone before going back to my van where I had a mini-meltdown over this surprising wave of humiliation I was feeling. I had very little sleep the night before, a bit afraid staying in the middle of the city like that and a already a bit humiliated after being woke up with my van spot-lighted by the police, searched and having to explain how I was really supposed to be parked there for the summer. They were supposed to have been informed by the police chief about the arrangements since the lot was a place they used at night to pull over and write reports. But for about two weeks, I met every officer that came into the night shift rotation, finally asking one if he could PLEASE leave a shift note for the next officers to leave me alone.

The humiliation was unexpected and the meltdown wasn't because of the church men's stares but because of my reaction to it. I didn't want to be thought of as one of 'those' people. I was humiliated at being thought of as homeless and I realized how disgraceful that was. Sure, I had a 'good' reason for staying in my van but every homeless person has a reason they are out there. Much of it has nothing to do with being lazy and not wanting to work like some of us like to think.

How you handle a person asking for change, that's up to you and what can feel like a complicated interpretation of what scripture says about helping the 'least of these'. Some of us always give, some of us will pump gas or buy food and some of us will even take a person out for a meal and spend time with him or her. Some of us give when felt led and some of us will never spare a dime. Some of them are on drugs and some of them are lying about what they need or want the money for. Some really do just want some groceries to take home to their kids and some really do need a warm meal to help survive the next day.

But, every single one of us is made in God's image. In that early morning moment, I wanted nothing more than to be thought of as different from any other homeless person on the street.

The reality is, no matter how different my circumstances really were and the fact I did have a home I could go back to, God loves that homeless person I ignored on the street as much as He loves any of us and I have no right to think of myself as anything more or less than the next guy.

It's a lesson I learned more than 10 years ago now and it's a lesson Parker and Jones' moments in the spotlight all of us can be reminded of in the wake of this latest tragedy.

www.cowboysofthecross.com