My daughter wrote me an e-mail today that I wanted to share with you. It made me smile.

Thoughts Inspired by Floyd

It’s amazing the full circle moments that God brings us to in our spiritual journey. God starts us in one seemingly random spot and never in our wildest dreams do we imagine ending up right where we started, returning to the beginning for some divine reason to complete the circle.

When I was in middle school, my mom decided that she wanted to make a tradition out of serving others on Christmas and Thanksgiving before she served her family. So she would go to the Salvation Army to serve a feast to the hungry of our city before coming home to eat with my brother, dad, and myself.

The exact time is a little fuzzy; I’m not quite sure if it was during the orange and brown, the turkey and cranberry sauce of Thanksgiving or during the green and red, the lights and trees of Christmas that I first went with my mom to the Salvation Army. Whenever it was that I first went, I certainly had no idea the magnitude of influence that simple act of service would have in my life.

There are a plethora of available tasks when serving meals at the Salvation Army. Some prefer to be in the back cutting pies and warming rolls. Some prefer to be behind the counter making the overflowing plates. Some like to take the food to the guests. I personally loved being the desert girl, cart and all. Even at an early age it gave me great joy to serve people delicious cakes, pastries, pies, and cookies; to watch men, women, and especially children cap off their meals with some sweet treat. This job allowed me to remain on the floor for the vast majority of the time and strike up many a conversation.

Again the details are slightly blurred, but I believe I met Floyd early on in my serving career. He’s hard to miss. When I first saw him, the effects of the streets were glaring: tattered clothes and wild matted hair gathered together atop his head by a sleeve, to name a few. His unique appearance didn’t phase me, it was his spirit that drew me to him. A wild man by sight, he was quiet, gentle, reserved in spirit. I wanted to get to know him, so I sat down and struck up a conversation. We talked for some time and then it was time for him to go. He got up, thanked me for the conversation, gathered his bags of belongings (as in all he called his own) and was gone. Little did I know that that conversation would be the beginning of a ten year friendship that continues to this day with Floyd.

As I returned to the Salvation Army each Thanksgiving and Christmas, it became a tradition to see Floyd. I would anticipate his arrival with great joy, always bringing him to biggest plate I could muster from the kitchen. I tried to spoil him, make him feel special.

One holiday season I remember sitting with Floyd in the dining room and teaching him sign language. I took a sign language class my senior year of high school and became slightly obsessed with the language. So naturally I wanted to share it with Floyd. I went through the entire alphabet and ended with teaching him his name. As our time together came to an end, I signed “Bye F-l-o-y-d.” He returned the gesture with a simple wave and once again, with his life in his hands, he was gone until the next holiday season.

At some point in the evolution of our friendship, my mom and I decided that we should buy Floyd some clothes, which was an obvious need. We went to Goodwill and with great excitement picked out a cart full of clothes for him. Not knowing his exact location, we went searching for him and found him sleeping on the embankment of Samaritan Ministries. We gently woke him and told him we had gotten him some clothes. He walked over to our car and looked at the large pile of clothes. After sifting through the pile, he picked up a few pieces and was done. I wanted him to take more, but Floyd said that he couldn’t carry anything else. In that moment, my lack of sensitivity was glaring. I had seen him repeatedly carry his life in his bags in and out of the Salvation Army. I knew he had very limited room for anything else and here I was teasing him with a pile of clothes and no way to transport them. My heart broke for myself. Deep in my spirit a spark was set off the do more than tease the poor and oppressed with belongings they cannot carry. I dreamed of being a part of a ministry that could offer more than clothes and a meal. I knew Floyd needed way more than that to get off the streets and I envisioned a ministry that would provide such resources.

As I went to college and was away from Winston-Salem for about six years, I lost track of Floyd. I never forgot; I just lost track. During those years of higher learning God was taking me on an emotional and spiritual wild ride. He began to show me that my life was suffocated by Christian culture. I attended a Christian university, was heavily involved in a Southern Baptist church, and nannied for a Christian family. It became clear that I had lost sight of the Great Commission to GO. My reaction to this epiphany was to get a job at a restaurant (no Christian connections I might add) and sign up for a year of urban ministry in Chicago instead of pursuing seminary.

During my year in Chicago, the Lord refined me in some huge ways. He continued to open my eyes to the needs of the poor and oppressed and uncovered a heap of junk in my heart. When the year was done, I was determined to fight for justice for the poor, specifically in the area of urban education. I was equally determined to not go back to Winston-Salem, especially to work with Calvary (…and God laughs).

Long story short, an awesome opportunity opened up for me to come back to Winston-Salem and work with Jon Corts alongside Calvary in the area of urban ministry. I was dead set against it, but the Lord humbled me and told me very clearly that He used Calvary as a powerful too to bring me to where I was and that I should consider it a privilege to go back to Winston-Salem and work with them in urban ministry. As I continued to seek the Lord, I couldn’t ignore his calling back to Winston-Salem, the city where it all started.

Three months into my new life in Winston-Salem, I was downtown with my Bible Fellowship class and there on the street sitting on the side walk was a familiar face. As did a double take I realized it was FLOYD! FLOYD!!! F-L-O-Y-D! We talked for about 15 minutes, catching up on years lost. He ended up showing my friends and I around downtown and then he was gone. Just like in the days of the Salvation Army, the sight of watching Floyd walk away with his life in his hands rang in my heart.

As I began seeing him on a weekly basis- he goes downtown every Saturday to listen to the free music- I was pierced this past Saturday night as we were praying for each other that I see him consistently and I see he has blatant needs, and yet I have not offered once to clothe him or feed him. The words of Jesus in Matthew 25, speaking of eternity, were shouting, “Come, you who are blessed by my Father, take your inheritance, the kingdom of God prepared for you since the creation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.”

After mentioning Floyd’s needs to my Bible Fellowship class, individuals generously gave so that some of Floyd’s basic needs could be met. What a joy it was to meet with Floyd and be able to tell him first and foremost that God had opened up a door for him to be able to stay at a residential rehabilitation ministry, but also to give him a $25 gift card to Lowes Food (it’s in the shopping center where he hangs out), a ten ride bus pass, a new watch, $20 in cash, and an assortment of new clothes. BREATH TAKING!

[ In relation to getting him clothes, when I went shopping for him this time I was incredibly mindful of the fact of his weight limitations in having to carry all his belongings. I strategically picked out several pieces that I thought he could best use, nothing less, nothing more. These items included two pairs of slacks, an undershirt, a short sleeved light weight shirt, a long sleeved shirt, and a vest with a number of pockets. With a smile of my face, I can tell you that Floyd took every piece of clothing that I offered him…YES! ]

Pray for Floyd. He has some weighty decisions ahead of him. Although he has an open door to a residential rehab ministry, he’s been on the streets for many many years. He’s established a large portion of his adult life as a homeless person. It will be a huge adjustment for Floyd to enter this ministry, but I see the desire in him. I see him weighing the options. I want the abundant life that God has promised to those who believe in Christ so badly for Floyd. I’m struggling personally with what that looks like.

Joel 2:25-26 has been the scripture that I claim for Floyd. Would you join me in praying God’s Word for Floyd? “I will repay you for the years the locusts have eaten…you will have plenty to eat, until you are FULL, and you will praise the name of the Lord you God, who has worked wonders for you; never again will my people be shamed.” Although this passage is written to Israel, I believe the Biblical concept applies to all: to Floyd, to myself, to each of you. So insert Floyd’s name, insert your own name.

As so in some ways, the circle is completed, but in other ways it’s only just begun…