THE DAY I MET DANIEL

 It was an unusually cold day for the month of May. Spring had arrived and 
everything was alive with color. But a cold front from the north had brought 
winter's chill back to Indiana.

 I sat with two friends in the picture window of a quaint restaurant just off
 the corner of the town square. The food and the company were both especially
 good that day. As we talked, my attention was drawn outside, across the 
street.

 There, walking into town, was a man who appeared to be carrying all his 
worldly goods on his back. He was carrying a well-worn sign that read, "I 
will work for food." My heart sank.

I brought him to the attention of my friends and noticed that others around 
us had stopped eating to focus on him. Heads moved in a mixture of sadness 
and disbelief. We continued with our meal, but his image lingered in my mind.

 We finished our meal and went our separate ways. I had errands to do and
quickly set out to accomplish them. I glanced toward the town square, looking
somewhat halfheartedly for the strange visitor. I was fearful, knowing that
seeing him again would call some response.  I drove through town and saw
nothing of him. I made some purchases at a store and got back in my car.

 Deep within me, the Spirit of God kept speaking to me: "Don't go back to the
office until you've at least driven once more around the square." And so,
with some hesitancy, I headed back into town. As I turned the square's third
corner, I saw him. He was standing on the steps of the storefront church,
going through his sack. I stopped and looked, feeling both compelled to speak
to him, yet wanting to drive on. The empty parking space on the corner seemed
to be a sign from God: an invitation to park. I pulled in, got out and
approached the town's newest visitor.

 "Looking for the pastor?" I asked.

 "Not really," he replied, "Just resting."

 "Have you eaten today?"

 "Oh, I ate something early this morning."

 "Would you like to have lunch with me?

 "Do you have some work I could do for you?"

 "No work," I replied." I commute here to work from the city, but I would
like to take you to lunch."

 "Sure," he replied with a smile.

 As he began to gather his things. I asked some surface questions.

 "Where you headed?"

 "St. Louis."

 "Where you from?"

 "Oh, all over; mostly Florida."

 "How long you been walking?"

 "Fourteen years," came the reply.

 I knew I had met someone unusual. We sat across from each other in the same
restaurant I had left earlier. His face was weathered slightly beyond his 38
years. His eyes were dark yet clear, and he spoke with an eloquence and
articulation that was startling. He removed his jacket to reveal a bright red
T-shirt that said, "Jesus is The Never Ending Story."

 Then Daniel's story began to unfold. He had seen rough times early in life. 
He'd made some wrong choices and reaped the consequences. Fourteen years
earlier, while backpacking across the country, he had stopped on the beach in
Daytona. He tried to hire on with some men who were putting  up a large tent
and some equipment. A concert, he thought. He was hired, but
the tent would not house a concert but revival services, and in those
services he saw life more clearly.  He gave his life over to God.

 "Nothing's been the same since," he said, "I felt the Lord telling me to
keep walking, and so I did, some 14 years now."

 "Ever think of stopping?" I asked.

 "Oh, once in a while, when it seems to get the best of me. But God has given
me this calling. I give out Bibles. That's what's in my sack.  I work to buy
food and Bibles, and I give them out when His Spirit leads."

 I sat amazed. My homeless friend was not homeless. He was on a mission and
lived this way by choice. The question burned inside for a moment and then I 
asked: "What's it like?"

 "What?"

 "To walk into a town carrying all your things on your back and to show your
sign?"

 "Oh, it was humiliating at first. People would stare and make comments. Once
someone tossed a piece of half-eaten bread and made a gesture that certainly 
didn't make me feel welcome. But then it became humbling to realize that God
was using me to touch lives and change people's concepts of other folks like
me."

 My concept was changing, too. We finished our dessert and gathered his
things. Just outside the door, he paused. He turned to me and said, "Come ye 
blessed of my Father and inherit the kingdom I've prepared for you. For when 
I was hungry you gave me food, when I was thirsty you gave me drink, a 
stranger and you took me in."

 I felt as if we were on holy ground.

 "Could you use another Bible?" I asked.

 He said he preferred a certain translation. It traveled well and was not too
heavy. It was also his personal favorite.

 "I've read through it 14 times, "he said. "I'm not sure we've got one of
those, but let's stop by our church and see."

 I was able to find my new friend a Bible that would do well, and he seemed
very grateful.

 "Where you headed from here?"

 "Well, I found this little map on the back of this amusement park coupon."

 "Are you hoping to hire on there for a while?"

 "No, I just figure I should go there. I figure someone under that star right
there needs a Bible, so that's where I'm going next."

 He smiled, and the warmth of his spirit radiated the sincerity of his
mission. I drove him back to the town square where we'd met two hours
earlier, and as we drove, it started raining.  We parked and unloaded his
things.

 "Would you sign my autograph book?" he asked.  "I like to keep messages from
folks I meet."

 I wrote in his little book that his commitment to his calling had touched my
life. I encouraged him to stay strong. And I left him with a verse of 
scripture, in Jeremiah, "I know the plans I have for you," declared the Lord,
 "plans to prosper you and not to harm you. Plans to give you a future and a
hope."

 "Thanks, man," he said. "I know we just met and we're really just strangers,
 but I love you."

 "I know," I said, "I love you, too."

 "The Lord is good."

 "Yes. He is. How long has it been since someone hugged you?" I asked.

 "A long time," he replied.

 And so on the busy street corner in the drizzling rain, my new
friend and I embraced, and I felt deep inside that I had been changed.

 He put his things on his back, smiled his winning smile and said, "See you
in the New Jerusalem."

 "I'll be there!" was my reply.

 He began his journey again. He headed away with his sign dangling from his
bedroll and pack of Bibles. He stopped, turned and said,

 "When you see something that makes you think of me, will you pray for me?"

 "You bet," I shouted back, "God bless."

 "God bless."

 And that was the last I saw of him. Late that evening as I left my office,
the wind blew strong. The cold front had settled hard upon the town. I 
bundled up and hurried to my car. As I sat back and reached for the emergency
 brake, I saw them....a pair of well-worn brown work gloves neatly laid over
the length of the handle. I picked them up and thought of my friend and
wondered if his hands would stay warm that night without them. I remembered 
his words:

 "If you see something that makes you think of me, will you pray for me?"

 Today his gloves lie on my desk in my office. They help me to see the world 
and its people in a new way, and they help me remember those two hours with 
my unique friend and to pray for his ministry.

 "See you in the New Jerusalem," he said.

 Yes, Daniel, I know I will....

This story touched my heart. If you feel the same please share it with 
someone.

And remember, God loves you!

Suggest this site to a friend.