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Forwarded to me from a friend.
A long read,but a good one.


It was an unusually cold day for the month of May.

Spring had arrived

and everything was alive with color.

But a cold front from the North had

brought winter's chill back to Indiana.

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 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 halfheartedly 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."

And so, 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 storefront 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.

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?"


"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.

that would do well,

and he seemed very grateful.

"Where you headed from here?"

"Well, I found this little map

on the back of this amusement park coupon."

"Are you hoping to hire on there for a while?"

"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

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.

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....

If this story touched you,

PLEASE forward it to a friend!

Author Unknown

Laughing Aliens!

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