The Acrobat Boy
His muscles were taut and straining as he balanced upside down on his hands, his feet high, straight above him. He slowly spread his legs wide and gently leaned to one side as he shifted his body. Years of training prepared him for this. He’d done it hundreds of times and knew the crowd would love it. He gradually raised his left hand off of the balancing block and had his entire weight on his right arm. The crowd cheered enthusiastically. He held the position for a few seconds more, ignoring the blood pulsing in his neck and head, then brought his hand down, then his feet, came to a standing position right side up on both blocks, and raised his hands in the air. The cheers were blissful.
“Thank you! Thank you!”
It was just one part of his show. He came to the pier to perform every week. This was how he made his real money. His jar was always full at the end of the day, not so much because of his talent, though he was very good, he just knew how to work a crowd. He knew how to get them to empty their pockets. He needed them to empty their pockets. However, some pockets were fuller than others…like that rich looking couple he had just seen going into the souvenir shop right next to his spot. Hard as he tried to get their attention, the woman wasn’t interested. Some people felt they were just too good for him he supposed. Didn’t matter. He would get his money somehow. He had to. His job as a teacher’s assistant just wasn’t enough. Rent and groceries were one thing, but the doctor’s bills were another thing all together. His dad was all he had left. And he would do anything to keep him around just one more day.
The Street Person
Thump, thump-thump, thump. It wasn’t much of a rhythm, he just moved his hands back and forth on his bongos. Just playing…and hoping. Hoping someone would drop a few bills or even some coins into his tattered coffee can he had sitting at his feet. That acrobat boy down the way always seemed to get folks to let go of their cash, but he just had a hard time of it. Jealousy ate at him. He sat on an old crate, covered by his only coat. A tattered worn backpack lay to his right. Every once in a while, he would tilt the crate up, reach under it and pull out a cigar, take a drag, then carefully put it back. He found it on his way to the pier that morning and got a light from one of the workers on the docks. Then he would go back to playing.
And hoping.
But no one seemed to be stopping today. He kept on beating the drums anyway. He came to the pier everyday hoping to make just enough money to make it last at least two…maybe three days if he was lucky. But luck rarely looked his way.
As he tilted the crate up again and took another long drag from the cigar, the smoke curled around his head, reminding him of something. Something from his past. His grandfather. His grandfather used to smoke cigars and get drunk out on the back porch of the small wood frame house he grew up in. He did not have good memories of that house. He only remembered pain there. Pain in that house. Pain from his grandfather. As soon as he was old enough, he left that house and tried to make it on his own.
Things didn’t go as he had planned.
He let the cigar burn out under his crate.
The Rich Couple
As she walked arm-in-arm with her husband across the pier, she drew in a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. Ahh! The clean ocean breeze! The bright sunshine! She loved being on vacation. She loved having her husband all to herself for once. He was always busy with work, but vacation was just for them. It would be perfect if it wasn’t so crowded. I guess that’s what you get when you come to the coast during a holiday. They had just come out of a quaint little seaside shop where her husband had bought her a beautiful set of genuine pearl earrings.
“Oh, darling, they’re gorgeous! Thank you!”
“Well, I know they’re not your Mikimoto pearls, but I thought you should have a souvenir.”
She was thrilled at the gesture and gave him a quick kiss. Linking her arm through his, they slowly sauntered along the pier. She loved to people-watch and there were so many people! As they were walking along she soon began to hear the beat of a drum, however, it didn’t really sound like it was keeping any kind of rhythm. The further they moved up the pier, the louder the sound grew until they came upon a man sitting on a crate beating on some battered, worn down bongo drums. He looked to be in his forties but she couldn’t really tell because he was so dirty. His hair was back in one of those dreadlock caps and his graying beard was in knots. There was the slight smell of cigar smoke in the air as they passed and he had a dull look on his face. Her husband slowed down and started digging in his pockets for some loose change, but she pulled on his arm.
“Don’t do that honey! He’s probably just going to use it to buy liquor or something.”
She pulled her husband along and turned her back on the man playing the bongos. She didn’t want to have anything to do with street people. Street people were bad. She will never do anything for them…ever. Her sister tried to do something for them once. And one of them followed her home. She never got to do anything else ever again. The police said he was crazy…out of his head. But in her grief she didn’t care. To her, they were all the same.
Everyone has a story
How are you treating the people that God has put around your life right now?
It’s easy to judge, isn’t it? It’s easy to look at people from the outside and not think about the story that’s on the inside.
But we must consider the inside. We have to think about their story.
We are called to live the kind of life that puts God on display in front of people…and not get distracted by what we see on the outside. If we let impassioned anger or offensive behavior from others get in front of our view of how God sees them, it can cause us to lose sight of His plan, disconnect us from the mission, and cripple our ability to love without condition.
Because we have a story too.
And don’t we want our stories to be heard and seen without judgment?
So we must be willing to see others without judgment…to hear others without judgment.
So, don’t lose your perspective, trust and do good, delight in the Lord, commit your way to Him, and love. Love with arms wide open. Arms willing to accept and listen to the story inside everyone.
