Homeless Guy

Spending a morning in a coffee shop writing and reconnecting with the world through the internet didn’t seem much of a violation of our time of rest and relaxation. My family was in Marquette for the week enjoying a cottage while settling our daughters into college for another year. Grant, my son-in-law, recommended a coffee shop called Babycakes to try. Every masculine bone in my body resisted settling into an establishment called Babycakes, but he assured me this would be a place I’d like. He said they had the best muffins in the world and that this was a place that desired to make a positive impact on the Marquette community. Not sure what he meant about the positive impact part, but I was content with his muffin recommendation.

The place was hopping that morning, so I felt fortunate to find a great window seat looking out on downtown Marquette. The only problem with my seat was that there was a person sitting fairly close to me. Now, I’m a guy who likes his personal space, so sitting in close proximity with a stranger seemed distracting to me. But, there was more to my discomfort with guy. Everything about his appearance said “homeless guy” –long, gray straggly beard; layers of mismatched clothes; worn out stocking cap drooped on his head; overstuffed backpack under his feet. But, I really wanted that window seat, so I pushed through my personal hang-ups and camped next to him giving him a token smile as I put my headphones on (the universal “do not disturb” sign at a coffee shop).

From time to time, I would take a peek at my coffee shop neighbor. For the most part, he just sat quietly; but occasionally he’d do something unusual like carrying on a conversation with the empty chair next to him. Other times, he would grab an ink pen off the table with a sense of urgency and begin to write in a notebook as if something profound had entered his mind that needed immediate recording. Maybe he was an eccentric author or a poet laureate hiding out in Marquette, I thought. Maybe, I was sitting next to greatness. So when I got up to get a refill on my beverage, I couldn’t help but to take a peek at his writing. Hoping to see a masterpiece of literature or art in the making, all I saw was a page filled with scribbles-no words, no drawings- just illegible marks.

I determined to ignore the guy that morning and remain focused on my work so I could get back to our vacation plans. But something happened with the “homeless guy” that got me wondering. It wasn’t something he did, but it was something the employees of Babycakes did. Twice during the time I was there, they brought him food. They didn’t bring me food. I got my food at the counter where I paid. But his food was quietly delivered to his table- first a buttered bagel then a sandwich a couple hours later. No money was exchanged. “What’s going on with this guy?” I wondered. Then I remembered Grant’s statement, “Babycakes wants to make a positive impact on the community.” Then, it hit me. I was seeing a small slice of who Babycakes truly was. They were choosing an identity and this identity was causing them to act in a certain way. It was if they were quietly saying to anyone willing to notice, “We are a place of compassion, therefore, we will be generous to the down-and-out that walk through our doors.”

The book of Ephesians is a letter written by Paul to first century Christians that declares the identity of those who claim to be followers of Jesus. They were known as people of the Way. That beautiful identity should cause them to express themselves in a unique way. Over the next few months, jump into the letter of Ephesians and see the difference in the People of the Way.

This week's author- Phil Niekerk, senior small groups pastor