So I tell my friend Sarah this as we sit on our paddleboards talking and then she tells me her own story. That of her pastor and how he told them one day that years before he had dressed up as a homeless person (it may or may not have been Christmas time) and he sat outside of church. He had a pan for donations but most people passed him by without looking at him dressed in his disguise as they headed in the door to worship. Once they had all congregated inside he headed in and during the homily put back on his homeless garb to their uncomfortable gasps.
I couldn’t help but think that our teacher's mom wouldn’t have passed this guy up. She’d have invited him in and then he probably would have invited her up to the altar afterwards.
The light of Christ resides in all of us if we just look a little closer. Street guy, Yogi or Christian what difference does it make?