Dirty Hands.

We drove with the sun slowly setting behind us.
The evening concert was held in a beat up old warehouse down town.
The outside looked broken down and the remains of life were few.
We parked under a bridge and covered our ears when the train come screaming over head.

The concert was to help kids over in Africa. The Invisible Children to be exact.
There was good music and good conversations we were able to have with others standing around.
One girl had the word LOVE scribbled across her hand. Another guy wore a shirt that had a ripped up heart on the side.
We came from different places and all had a story of our own.


Michelle and I decided to leave early. We took pictures as we walked to our car under the bridge.
I looked up and saw an older gruff-looking homeless man walking swiftly away from us. When he saw me looking at him he threw his hands up and said, "no harm ma'am."
I just smiled and nodded my head.
I immediately wanted to know his name.
I walked up behind him, "Excuse me Sir."

He stopped and I asked if there was anything I could pray about for him.
He said, "just keep me in your prayers."
I asked him his name, "Darrell."
I reached my hand out and said it was nice to meet him.
He immediately jerked his hand back, "My hands are dirty, you don't want to shake my hand."
"Yes I do, that doesn't matter." I kept my hand stretched out towards him.
He looked at me then shook my hand.

As we both walked away he turned around and shouted, "remember me in your prayers, you are going to pray for me right?"
Yes Darrell, yes. I promise you I will pray for you.

I looked down at my hand covered in dirt. My palm was blackened.
He wasn't kidding when he said his hands were dirty.

<>.<>.<>.<>.<>

I talked with another kid earlier this week. He's on drugs, in an abusive home and weighs at least 50 pounds less then me.
He said, "I think that if Jesus were here He would love me and all my friends who deal with addictive behaviors and substance abuse problems."

Those words are so true it aches my heart.

I didn't care that Darrell's hands were extremely dirty with who knows what on them. I don't care that my friends strung out on drugs or that she cuts herself every night.
I DO CARE, but it doesn't hold me back from holding them, or getting beside them in the mud and sickness of sin.
They need help, we need help. They need to be told that they're right, they did mess up [we all did] but redemption is possible.
Rescue is coming.
You can be healed.
I want to get beside those people. I want to show Love in the middle of this hatred.
Because I've sat on the bench for too long.

I wanna hold the dirty hands.
don't you?
..