December 3, 2006

• Moral Obligation

  I'm walking in downtown Seattle.  The chilly air nips my cheeks and nose, and I slip my cold hands into my pockets.  I glance at the happy couples strolling down the streets hand-in-hand.  I smile at the parents led by eager kids to the nearest toy store.  I quicken my pace past the Starbucks in Westlake Center to avoid the temptation of the tantalizing coffee aroma, and continue up on Pine Street.  I inhale the crisp air and enjoy Seattle's Christmas decor--the lights, the Christmas trees, and the various nutcracker statues stationed at each street corner. 

  Then the peaceful scene is interupted by a jarring clanking noise.  My eyes narrow to the left and through my periphery I see a man with no legs shaking a metal can with coins.  I walk another fifty paces and in my mind a million thoughts collide.

  --Don't make eye contact!
  --I should give him money.
  --He's going to use it on alcohol and drugs.
  --He's in a wheelchair!  The man needs help!
  --I can't trust him.
  --I'm a Christian and there is a man in need.  Help him.

  I halt on the sidewalk; people push pass me ignoring my presence.  I turn around and walk back to the man with his can.  I pull out some money and drop it in his can.  He looks into my eyes and thanks me profusely.  I make an effort to smile and say "God bless you." 

  I wonder who this man is.  What is his name?  How did he lose his legs?  Was he a war veteran?  Why was his voice so distorted?  What was he like as a kid? 

  ...What makes me so different from him?

  • 9:13 pm
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