DarkHorse Ministries

A Homeless Angel

Several months ago, I learned of Thousand Oaks Ministry, and their daily evening church service called 'Church Under the Bridge.' These servants of Jesus bring love and the Christian word of God, to the homeless of Houston's impoverished '3rd ward' neighborhood. Rain or shine, for over thirteen years, 7 days a week, they have set up outdoors every evening to preach the gospel before serving a hot meal. The food is usually provided by a number of area churches that sponsor one night each month.

I arrived early to help feed the homeless one day. I had not been in a while, and they had moved to a different location nearby. As I approached the vacant parking lot beside the liquor store on the edge of the downtown ghetto, I saw only two men, each alone on opposite sides of the lot. I looked across at the African American. He was too far away for me to get a good look. I told myself to leave him alone; he was down and out, and the last thing he needed was some white guy that wasn't homeless getting in his face. But I changed my mind and walked up, introduced myself and sat down on the cement beside him. I began to talk and tell him all about my life and problems. Marshall smiled and nodded his head, but didn't say much more than a few brief words. I told him about the room I rented several miles away, about how I got bedbugs probably from some used bookshelves I bought at a church, and how I finally cleaned up the clutter at home by moving most of my stuff into storage.

Soon enough, the ministry trailer pulled up and we went to work setting up chairs, tables and lights for the service. Then while visiting with another volunteer, Marshall came up, and handed me a sealed white envelope with some writing on the outside. I put it in my pocket and kept talking. When I finally got around to opening the envelope, I found four yellow pages of notebook paper, and began to read the long letter he had written for me. It was addressed to: 'The Authorities of Spring Branch, Texas'. As I began to read, I realized that this homeless man, that I almost didn't even take the time to talk to, had actually listened to the details of my stupid problems and was doing everything he could think of to help me. My heart melted. I went and thanked and hugged him. I was amazed by the love of this person—who I imagined as having nothing to offer me—just giving whatever he did have to try to serve someone else, and without even caring the least bit that my life circumstances were so much more favorable than his.

This brought into focus, the transparency of my pretense of wanting to help others. Marshall taught me how important it is to just show up in life and let people know that I care about them, that no matter how uncertain my own personal situation and how little I may have to give, I can always share God's love. The most important thing is to be present and available in the lives of others, just to let them know that they are not alone and that someone really does care about how they are doing. Marshall's letter is now one of my most prized possessions.