By April Terry (personal blog http://faithwarming.blogspot.com)

On my way back from the grocery store on Thanksgiving morning, I saw an elderly man trying flag down some people on the side of the road.  He was scruffy looking and not too well dressed.  In fact, I think he might’ve been wearing long johns with a heavy coat that looked like a military jacket or something.  He looked fairly fit, but he was probably in his late seventies, I would guess.  I could see that I was going to have to drive right up next to him and I knew I would have a choice.  So, I rolled down my window to ask him about what he needed and before I could really make a choice, he was hauling himself into the passenger seat of my car.  I started to protest telling him that I wasn’t sure I could give him a ride, but then he said that he had been out walking and that he had hurt his knee.  So, I just grabbed my purse closely and hoped for the best.
 
He first kept asking me where I lived, so I gave him a vague “over in that neighborhood” kind of answer, but I redirected the questions back to him.  “Where do you live,” I asked, “I’ll take you there.”  He pointed down toward the river bed.  Oh, no, I thought, the riverbed.   It’s in the riverbed that the homeless live in my area, but he said that he would give me directions and after following them, he finally took me to a nice little home in one of the better neighborhoods.  He opened his garage door with something from his pocket and I realized that I’d made some assumptions about him.  No one would blame me the way the old guy was dressed.  He opened his garage door and got out of my car and wished me a Happy Thanksgiving and as he left I saw that his red long johns were ripped and there was an eight inch opening in his backside showing his underwear.  I chuckled a little as I drove away.

When I got home, I told the family what had happened and they all responded with alarm.  I felt the same alarm at first, I have to admit, but sometimes there is risk in involved in helping others.  Sometimes, we have to take a chance in order to be open to the possibilities.  I don’t usually do that kind of thing, but it seemed as if God was asking me, “What kind of Christian are you going to be?” 

I’ve been raised in good neighborhoods my whole life.  Every home that I have chosen for myself has been carefully selected, but danger is everywhere.  There is always a possibility that something terrible might happen to me, but on this day, nothing terrible did happen except that I helped an elderly man get home after he injured himself.  Sometimes, I think we live a fearful existence.  We think of the worst that could happen and forget that Jesus encouraged us to open ourselves up to being available.  That morning, I had looked at the situation as a burden at first, but now, I am seeing it with new eyes.  Now, my thoughts turn toward ways that I can get outside of my safety zone.

I’m not advocating that people pick up hitchhikers or anything, but I do advocate that we get outside our comfort zones just a little.  It’s easy to become locked in a prison of safety.  Maybe it’s time to start taking some calculated risks.  People who run missions and homeless shelters run risks, but they don’t let the risks keep them from helping those who need it.  I have to admit that my Thanksgiving morning experience was not a calculated risk.  I stepped way out of the safety zone and I had to put my trust in God to keep me safe.  He honored that, and I learned something as well.  Not everyone is out to get me.

Honestly, I’m just a working mom living on the east side of our coastal community.  My son plays out in the yard and we know most of our neighbors, but beyond my own street, I am a ghost.  Still, I have decided to live a life that asks me to take more chances.  I’ve made a choice to live a life more like the risky life that Jesus Christ lived 2,000 years ago.  It might all end in disaster, but it might also end in my having lived a wonderful, spirit-led life where humanity was better having had me in it.  For me, that’s a calculated risk worth taking.