It was an unusually cold day for the month of May.

Spring had arrived

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 awhile?"

"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

this bed roll 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....

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