Billy, aka “Short Dog”
I can only recall one time that I have been personally approached by a homeless man in public. I was in Washington, D.C. for the All-Region Honors Band. We had a chance to explore the sites in small groups. I remember this guy in a torn up Army jacket coming up to me and asking me for money. I told him I didn’t have any, which was the truth, and kept on walking. He stood up and started yelling at me, “Come on, man! I just missed winter, man! Look at my coat! I just missed winter!”
I never figured out how money was going to help him get winter back.
Then today I was sitting at Burger King, reading Water Buffalo Theology for the Doctrine class. This guy starts talking to me from across the restaurant. He was loud, and maybe even a little tipsy.
I had a decision to make – do I give up my valuable reading time by talking to him, or bury my head in my book and ignore him.
I chose to go over and talk with him.
His name is Billy. His friends call him Short Dog, apparently. He has a dog, an 8-man tent, and a winterized sleeping bag. He panhandles enough to get a cup of coffee and biscuits and gravy. He told me he was on his way out to get more money so he could get himself a beer.
Then he began to tell me his story about leaving Saigon, and how a guy gave him a silver ring with a bald eagle on it. He told me this story about three times while I sat there.
I couldn’t give him a cup of cold water – he was already drinking something. I wasn’t about to give him money, because a beer is the last thing he needed. There wasn’t anything I could do for him, so I sat and listened. It was hard to fight the temptation to cut the conversation short and get out of there so I could get back to my comfort zone. We talked for a half an hour, or so.
I knew he didn’t need to be preached to at this particular moment, so I merely prayed for him silently during our conversation. This is a man who desperately needs the gospel. Did I fail him by not saying something explicitly about Jesus Christ? I hope not.
He said he goes to that Burger King a lot. I’ll probably go back there again in the next few days to see if I can have a conversation with him again. After a half an hour, he left and I returned to my reading.
The chapter I had just come to was the one titled Neighborolgy, which essentially says that people care more about how we treat our neighbors than our christology. I’m sure Billy didn’t want to hear about my thoughts on the Trinity, or God’s view of suffering. Hopefully my listening to him is a “cup of cold water.”
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