Today I Met Jesus on State S

Today I Met Jesus on State Street

Today I went for a walk down State Street in Santa Barbara, and I met Jesus.

I know.

That sentence probably made you stop for a second.

Maybe you're wondering if I had some kind of spiritual vision in the middle of downtown Santa Barbara. Maybe you're wondering if the California sunshine has finally gotten to me.

Nope.

I met a homeless man.

And somewhere in the middle of a few dollars, a smile, a hug, and two people standing on a sidewalk looking into each other's eyes, God reminded me what Jesus looks like.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Take the Money

I had decided to go for a walk down State Street. Before I left my hotel room, I did what I normally do when I don't want to carry a purse. I put my ID, a credit card, and my room key in my pocket.

That was all I needed.

Except apparently God disagreed.

As I was getting ready to leave, I felt this very specific nudge to take a particular bill with me. Not, "You might want some cash." Not, "Grab a few dollars just in case."

A particular bill.

Now, I've been walking with God long enough to know that sometimes He gives me a nudge and I don't understand why. And I've also been walking with Him long enough to know that I can be incredibly talented at questioning whether a nudge was actually God or just some random thought that wandered through my head. But this one felt different.

Take the money.

So, I did.

I grabbed the bill, folded it up, put it in my pocket, and headed out.

Then I pretty much forgot about it.

God didn't.

Give Him the Money

Later, as I was walking back toward my hotel, I saw a homeless man ahead of me.

He was digging through a trash can.

I noticed him, but I kept walking.

And then I heard it.

Give him the money.

There was no big dramatic moment. No thunder. No angel standing on State Street pointing at the man.

Just that quiet voice I have come to recognize.

Give him the money.

And do you know what I did?

I kept walking.

Because apparently even after God tells me to put money in my pocket and then puts a person directly in my path who might need it, I still require additional confirmation. Was that God? Was that me? Am I supposed to go back? And then I heard it again.

Aren't you going to do what I told you to do? I said to give him the money.

Well.

Okay, God.

Message received.

I stopped walking.

I reached into my pocket, pulled out the bill, turned around, and walked back toward him.

He didn't look up as I approached, but he knew I was coming because he moved to the side of the trash can farthest away from me. He was giving me room. As I stopped at the trash can and continued facing him, not throwing anything away, he cautiously looked up at me.

I smiled. "Hello." He smiled back...and when I say he smiled...it wasn't anything tiny or timid...it was a full-blown smile that lit up his face! He said "Hi."

Then I asked him if he'd like some lunch. He said yes. I reached out and handed him the money.

And his face changed. There was surprise there. Maybe even a little disbelief. He looked at the money. Then he looked at me. "Thank you."

But then something happened that I haven't been able to stop thinking about.

He realized I was looking at him.

Really looking at him. Not glancing at him while hurrying past. Not looking away because I felt uncomfortable. Not pretending I didn't see him digging through the trash.

I was looking directly into his eyes.

And that’s when I really noticed them. They were the most beautiful, clear blue. And they sparkled when he smiled. There was a clarity in them, too. Whatever his story was…and I didn’t know it…he was completely present with me in that moment. His eyes were clear and bright.

And then I noticed something else.

His beard. His face. There was something almost familiar about him. He looked like the pictures of Jesus I had grown up seeing.

I know Jesus probably didn’t actually look like those paintings hanging in Sunday school classrooms. But standing there on State Street, looking into those beautiful blue eyes and that bearded face, I couldn’t shake the thought.

This is what Jesus looks like.

Not because of the beard. Not because of his eyes. But because somewhere between the trash can and that smile, I had stopped seeing “a homeless man.”

I was seeing him!

Hug Him

And there was that voice again.

Hug him.

Okay, this was getting a little more complicated. Giving someone money is one thing. You can hand over cash and keep a comfortable distance. A hug is different. A hug says, I am willing to come close. So I looked at him and asked, "Can I give you a hug?" His eyes lit up. "Yes."

And right there on State Street, I wrapped my arms around a man whose name I didn't even know.

For those few seconds, he wasn't "a homeless man."

He was a person. A man with a story. A man who had once been somebody's little boy. A man who had laughed and cried and loved and lost. A man created in the image of God.

We stepped apart, and he told me to have a good day. Then he said, "God bless you." I smiled at him and said, "God bless you too." And I started walking away. But after a few steps, I stopped. I don't even know exactly why.

I turned around. He was still standing there looking at me.

And he was still smiling.

So I smiled back and asked, "Would you like to talk for a while?"

He gave me this huge smile and said, "No. I'm good."

And something about those three little words hit me.

No. I'm good.

He didn't ask me for anything else. He didn't ask for more money. He didn't need me to fix his life. He didn't need me to know his entire story. He was good. So I smiled one more time, turned around, and headed back toward my hotel.

And as I walked away, I could still see those clear blue eyes and that enormous smile. And the thought came again.

This is what Jesus looks like.

Not the paintings. Not the beard. This.

You Saw Him

Then came the part that undid me.

As I walked away, I felt God say:

You did it.

You saw him.

He was seen.

Someone saw him.

He wasn't invisible.

And suddenly I understood that the bill God told me to put in my pocket wasn't really the point. Yes, he needed lunch. Yes, the money mattered. But there was something else he needed too.

He needed to be seen.

Maybe it had been hours since someone had looked him in the eyes.

Maybe days.

I don't know.

I don't know how many people had walked past him that morning. I don't know how many had noticed him digging through the trash and quickly looked away. I don't know his story or what happened in his life that brought him to that sidewalk.

I don't even know his name.

But for a few minutes, I knew his eyes.

I knew his smile.

I knew what his face looked like when someone stopped.

And maybe that was what God wanted from me all along.

Not simply to give.

To see.

Maybe That's What Jesus Was Talking About

There's a passage in Matthew 25 where Jesus says something that can be uncomfortable if we really sit with it:

"Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me."

I've read those words before.

Many times.

But today they looked different. Today they had a face. Today they had eyes that lit up when I asked for a hug. Today they had a smile that was still there when I turned around. Today they were standing on State Street.

And I wonder how many times I've missed Jesus because I was busy. How many times I've walked past someone because I was distracted. How many times I've seen the circumstance before I've seen the person.

Homeless.

Addict.

Prisoner.

Waitress.

Cashier.

Single mom.

Lonely widow.

Troubled kid.

The person who talks too much.

The person everyone else avoids.

The person sitting by themselves.

The person whose choices we don't understand.

The person whose life looks nothing like ours.

We are so quick to put labels on people. And sometimes labels make it easier not to look into their eyes. But Jesus never seemed particularly interested in labels. He saw people.

We All Want to Be Seen

Maybe that's why this moment has stayed with me. Because homelessness isn't the only kind of invisibility. You can live in a beautiful house and feel invisible. You can be surrounded by people and feel unseen. You can have a spouse, children, friends, coworkers, church family, and thousands of social media followers and still wonder if anyone really sees you. We all carry things nobody can see from the outside.

Heartbreak.

Shame.

Fear.

Loneliness.

Regret.

Grief.

Questions we are afraid to ask. Stories we aren't ready to tell.

And beneath all of it is something deeply human:

Please see me.

See past what happened to me.

See past what I've done.

See past what I look like.

See past the label someone put on me.

See past the mess.

See me.

Maybe that's part of what it means to love like Jesus. Maybe sometimes it looks like feeding thousands. Maybe sometimes it looks like changing someone's entire life. And maybe sometimes it looks like stopping on a sidewalk.

Looking someone in the eyes.

Smiling.

Asking permission to hug them.

And letting another human being know, even for sixty seconds:

You are not invisible!

I Thought I Was Giving Him Something

I walked away thinking about the money in his hand.

But the farther I walked, the more I realized that God had given me something too. He let me see. He let me see beyond the man digging through the trash. He let me see a person He loves.

And in doing so, He reminded me that every single person I pass is carrying a story I know nothing about. I don't want to become so busy building a life, writing books, speaking on stages, traveling, checking off my list, or getting to wherever I'm headed that I stop seeing the people God places right in front of me.

Because sometimes the interruption is the assignment.

Sometimes God puts something in your pocket before you even know why.

Sometimes He tells you to turn around.

Sometimes He asks you to come a little closer.

And sometimes, if you're paying attention, you may look into the eyes of a stranger on a sidewalk...

and realize you've just met Jesus.

Today I went for a walk down State Street.

I gave a man some money for lunch.

I gave him a hug.

But the thing I hope I never forget is the smile on his face when he realized someone was looking into his eyes.

He was seen.

He wasn't invisible.

And neither are you.

You are seen.

You are known.

You are loved.

And maybe today God will put someone in your path who needs to know the very same thing.

Don't miss them.