The Soloist

Last night some of my friends were celebrating a birthday, but I was still feeling a little poorly so I didn't go. While Jeffrey was at the dinner, I watched a movie from Redbox called "The Soloist." In case you haven't heard of it, here's a short synopsis:

Nathaniel Ayers was a homeless man who was met by chance on the streets of Los Angeles one day by a reporter named Scott Lopez. Scott had been attracted to the man's makeshift home on the street because he heard beautiful violin music being played over the din of passing cars. When he got closer to the sound, he realized that the man playing the violin had only two strings, but still managed to make lovely music. Upon questioning Nathaniel, Scott found that Nathaniel had once been a cellist at the prestigious arts school called Juilliard.

At first the story only intrigued Scott--he spent a few hours tracking down Nathaniel's history by contacting his sister and the admissions department at Julliard--but later the intrigue turned into compassion and even friendship between the two unlikely companions. Scott eventually learned that Nathaniel's fall from the top ranks of the cello section at Juilliard came soon after his symptoms of schizophrenia took hold. As is the case with many homeless people, mental illness had left Nathaniel without friends, without money, without the capacity to hold a job, and without hope, but mercifully the disease did not rob him of his gift with music.

As I've said before, Scott and Nathaniel found friendship, and along the way Nathaniel was able to find his way back to music, thanks to Scott's articles in the newspaper about him and the donation of a cello from a generous reader.

I thought about the themes and messages of the movie all day today. I've done some ministry in the past with the homeless, but for a long time I've used our precarious financial status as a reason to stop helping the homeless. I was tested today, though.

As I was returning the movie I had rented to Redbox I was approached by a homeless man with his dog. He asked me very politely if I could give him any money. I told him that I didn't have any cash with me (which was true), but wished him a good afternoon.

I got back into the car with Jeffrey and immediately felt terrible about the way I had reacted to the man. My guilt was compounded as the words of my Lord Jesus began to circulate in my mind.

"For I was hungry and you gave me no food, I was thirsty and you gave me no drink,
a stranger and you gave me no welcome, naked and you gave me no clothing, ill and in prison, and you did not care for me. Then they will answer and say, 'Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or ill or in prison, and not minister to your needs? He will answer them, 'Amen, I say to you, what you did not do for one of these least ones, you did not do for me." Matthew 25:42-45
"Feed my sheep."
"Take care of my lambs."

As we drove to Chick-fil-A to buy our dinner, I was overwhelmed with compassion for the man I had just wished "good day" without fulfilling a single one of his physical needs. How empty my words must have seemed!

Jeffrey ordered an extra sandwich for the man and we went back to find him. When I got out of the car I made sure to look the man in the eye as I asked him if he was hungry. He slowly shook his head yes. I asked if he liked Chick-fil-A and he again nodded in agreement. I handed him the sandwich and he thanked me profusely, while at the same time thanking Jesus for his meal. It took him a few second to get the sandwich unwrapped because he had begun to cry. My heart was broken that I almost passed by this opportunity to help someone. I made sure that he had a drink with his meal and waved goodbye to him as we drove away.

I almost gave nothing.

I happily gave a little.

I wish that I had more to give.