shed a tear?

I cried this morning.

Maybe you saw the story in the news a couple of weeks ago. A homeless man in downtown Los Angeles was doused with gasoline by some youths and set on fire. Although people tried to extinguish the flames, it was too little, too late. He died.

When my son first told me of the incident, I shook my head and sighed. The travesty, the hideousness, the inequity of it all. But no tears. Today I took time to read about this man's life. As I read some of the back stories, I was again struck by that simple truth: everyone has a story, everyone has value, everyone is someone.

This man actually had a name- John Robert McGraham (this is him on left). He had a place he called home- 3rd and Berendo. He had friends- people who stopped to check in on him, who helped him with some necessities, who took him to clean up periodically. He had a story- he had once been a bellman at the nearby Ambassador Hotel before it closed. He suffered with depression and had been on the streets for twenty years. He, according to those who knew him, bothered no one, rarely asked for anything, and was a bright spot in the community. And I began to cry.

As I read his story and the responses of grief and love from those who knew him (some seen here at his funeral), I was torn within. How could something like this happen in our midst? Have we become so cold, so unfeeling, so cruel that we see no value in the lives of those we deem less than ourselves? These were (reportedly) youth that took John's life. What have we done that our children behave with no sense of conscience or morality? I cried a little more.

But John had great value in the eyes of his Creator. He had value in the lives of those who knew him. And he was no different than the many others we encounter on the corners and onramps of our lives as we hurry past. I know we don't actively seek their demise or destruction, but could our indifference, our lack of concern, or our own agendas potentially germinate within us the same kind of numbness found in these youth?

I'm not saying that we should necessarily go out and embrace all homeless (although Jesus did talk about giving a party and inviting those sorts, didn't he?). Only that when we pass by such people we acknowledge that they have value, they have a story, they have history. And that they matter to Someone, somewhere. And as He watches, I believe He cries.

For them. And for us.