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 of 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 half-heartedly 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."

Then 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 store front 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 are you headed from here?" I asked.

"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 from 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 his bedroll

 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.

Then 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...

"I shall pass this way but once.

Therefore,

any good that I can 

do or any kindness that I can show,

let me do it now,

for I shall not pass this way again."

Author Unknown

Contributed By : Darlene McMahan

Page Created : Pam Gallo

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His Will Was Done