I've been hit once again by another season of change here in Hungary. Things happen so quickly at the end of the school year. It feels like I'm on a ride that is spinning rapidly; too dizzy to process the fact that people are flying off. When it finally stops, the absence of what became 'normal' is suddenly felt. The silence feels so empty and keeps whispering, "things can never be like they were." And all the things that this past year held for me seem to only compound it. It's been an intense year to say the least.
I've noticed that one of my tendancies during times of change is to fight for some sort of control. The combination of a million details to think through along with the new normal dissolving away, leaves me longing to grasp onto something ... anything.
Yet, despite my far from stable mental state and a little to my surprise, God has been breaking in. One of these moments happened a few days ago while I was in the city. My mom and grandma were visiting and wanted to peak into a church that we were by. As we walked closer, we passed a homeless man sitting on the steps outside the church. Inside a service was going on. He must have been waiting for it to let out in hopes to collect some money from the people inside. I've seen a lot of homeless people here in Budapest, but this man triggered something in me that still lingers. He sat there next to a baseball hat that was turned upside down with some coins in it. He didn't talk to us or bow in a 'begging' position when we walked by. He didn't appear to be affected by drugs or alcohol. He just peacefully sat there. And although I only saw him out of the corner of my eye, when I walked past him I felt this strong tug pull within me. I instantly became aware of him and compassion seemed to wash over me. After walking past him, I did what I rarely do; I stopped, grabbed some change, turned around, and walked back up to him. I said hello and he responded with something that I couldn't understand, yet the tone of his voice was kind. I left wishing I had given more.
I haven't been able to get this man out of my head. As I've thought about him, I've had Matthew 25:40 run through my head: "whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me." I felt God's presence during that encounter. He was near and He was making me aware of it. And the more I think about that, the more I'm wondering how often I miss Him? How many times do I walk straight into the church to meet with Jesus, and neglect to notice that He was sitting on the steps? It's making me ask myself, where do I go looking for Jesus? and where have I walked right past Him?
I believe, strongly, that God is communicating with us. He's breaking into our fragile minds and lives, drawing us to Himself, and inviting us to be transformed in His presence. I don't want to miss it!
