Jesus welcomed people.
And he welcomed without strings attached.
As a young kid, I saw my Dad welcome someone unexpected.
The experience was powerful.
And it changed me forever.
Here’s the story:
I couldn’t have been more than six.
Dad and I were walking back to our car on Sunday after church.
The winter air was cold. And I remember holding my Dad’s hand as we walked.
We were part of a large church in downtown Akron, Ohio. The same church where my Dad grew up, where my parents were married, only a few blocks from the hospital where I was born.
While our church was urban, the neighborhood around our church wasn’t what you would consider dangerous. Especially on Sundays. Especially during the winter. After the 10:00 church service was over, mostly suburbanite families would pour out the church doors, walk the two blocks to the parking lot, get into their station wagons, and drive home.
That Sunday it was different.
Dad and I had missed the crossing signal by a few seconds and, in what I suppose was a fatherly lesson in traffic safety, Dad said we should just turn the corner rather than try to beat the light.
Turning left, we saw a man walking toward us.
He was seven feet tall.
At least to a six-year-old.
He wore a faded and tattered utility coat – the kind that I had seen construction workers wear in the wintertime. He had khaki-colored pants on, but I remember thinking that they weren’t dress pants (That’s what I called any pants you could wear to church on Sunday). He also wore two hats. The smaller one was on the inside and peaked out a bit at the back. He had sunglasses on and smelled a little funny.
The only part of his skin that I could see where his massive hands with fingers that seemed twice as long as Dad’s, and his long, sad face.
Although I had probably seen homeless people before, this experience was altogether new to me.
“Got any money, man?” He asked Dad. “It’s cold and I gotta get somethin’ to eat.”
His voice was deep like southern gospel singers, only it was muffled and his lips didn’t work right. I was a little scared. As I had heard countless times: “Brannon – Don’t talk to strangers.” And this guy was definitely a stranger.
I watched my Dad.
I wanted to see what he would do.
“Well,” Dad said, “I can’t give you any money, but I tell you what…How about we go get a bite to eat together?”
“Sounds good,” the man said.
We walked another block or two further to a Burger King.
“What would you like?” Dad asked him.
“How about a Whopper?” the man said.
“Want to make it two?” Dad offered.
“Sure,” the man said.
We sat down. I sat next to the window. The man sat across from me and ate. To this day, I have never seen anybody eat like that. The guy downed two Whoppers, a bag of fries, and polished off a Coke in less than 5 minutes. I was still working on my second nugget.
I don’t remember the conversation. I don’t remember how he left. But I remember thinking that my Dad was incredible. Dad welcomed this guy way beyond what he was expecting. Dad welcomed him into fellowship.
It wasn’t the $8.00 in food that did it. It wasn’t really that he was a man from urban Akron and we were two people from a suburb. What I saw – and what I learned – was that my Dad stopped what he was doing, allowed himself to be interrupted, and welcomed someone who would probably never pay him back.
In that way, my Dad demonstrated Jesus in a way that made an unforgettable impression on me.
That morning, Dad became my hero.
Because he loved a total stranger.
Dad must have been scared.
But he acted like Jesus.
I’m a Dad of three kids. I’m in my early 30′s – roughly the same age Dad was at the time of this story. I try to imagine myself in that situation.
I’m not sure I would have acted with the same courage.
For parents – Let this story be an encouragement to you to live boldly in front of your kids. They absorb more than you might think.
