Just last week, I nearly ran into Jamie Foxx . . .literally. 
When passing by him, I tried to catch a glimpse of his name tag, but all it said was “Honored Guest.” (I guess that makes sense; he probably doesn’t need to promote his name. )
Last Wednesday, N8 and I went downtown to wander around and catch a glimpse of the DNC goings-on. It was fun! In addition to seeing a few celebrities, we saw. . .
Protests
Police
a porn-promoting pachyderm?
Umm… ok….
We also passed by gobs vendors (here were a few of my favorite t-shirts):
how very "Forest Gump," but it made me chuckle.
The craziest thing was that I felt like Washington DC up and moved to Denver for a week. There were a lot more people in *significantly* nicer suits, rushing every which way, texting & talking on their phones, plowing through people and generally thinking that what they were doing was *the* most important thing in the world.
I saw a larger diversity of people and heard a lot more languages. It had an energy that I’ve only seen in Denver after a Super Bowl win (so, ahem, it’s been a while). It made me simultaneously miss DC but also be thankful for Denver’s more laid back demeanor. (I think I’ve mellowed out since I moved, believe it or not!)
So, what would Jesus really do?
Overall, it was a fun afternoon, but the most memorable event–yes, even moreso than seeing Jamie Foxx–occurred as N8 and I were going back to our car.
Near the Denver Art Museum, a 20-something male approached us; he was clearly unshowered, unshaven, and was ready with his sob story. “Excuse me,” he said to Nate. “I’m from Cinncinati, OH, and I was staying with some friends, and they took off without me. My wife is over there. . . ” (here, he motioned in a general direction where no one stood) “and I just need some money for food and a way back to Ohio.”
He showed us his shaking hand from lack of food; I was not convinced.
His final line didn’t sway me either, “Is there any way you could help us? No one here has been at all nice to us.”
I was ready with my, “I’m sorry, but I don’t have anything” line, which is by & large true; I just don’t carry cash with me. But N8 looked at me, and I could tell we weren’t on the same page. He wanted to help.
I whispered, “Okay, I guess we can help; do you have like $5?”
“No, all I have is a 20,” N8 said. (You can hardly ask for change in this situation. ) “I want to give it to him. Are you ok with that?”
I begrudgingly nodded. N8 gave him the money, shook his hand, wished him well, and the gentleman walked off with noticably more energy than when he approached us.
Deep down, I felt convicted. I’m so jaded when it comes to these situations. For years I lived and worked in around DC; I carried extra food & metro cards with me for circumstances when people would ask for help. However, most of the time, when asked for assistance with food or metro fare, I’d offer what I had, and the people would turn it down! “Uh, no thanks, I’d prefer the cash.”
After years of this, I just gave up believing anyone who asked for help on the streets. I’m not saying this is right; in fact, it’s not at all how Jesus would act. But I tell you that as context for my feelings during this interation.
As we were walking away, and I was feeling a bit guilty about my jadedness, I told N8, “I think you did the right thing. But I admit, I don’t believe him.”
N8 said, “You know, I’m not sure that I believed him either, but, regardless, it was evident that he needed the money more than we did. What he does with it is up to him, but I felt it was important to help him if I had the ability to do so.”
I married a good-hearted man. It’s not that I normally forget that, but sometimes I’m reminded of the depth of that goodness.
