whirlybird butterflies

"this is for you," he said, thrusting the flower into my face. "be careful," he said, "it's fragile. do you know what it's called?"

"no..." i replied, looking up cautiously from my book into the clear, sad eyes of the man who had awkwardly approached me at the bus stop.

"it's called a whirlybird butterfly flower. it's for you. and you can keep it, but i am homeless and it would be nice if you could spare a dollar..." he trailed off a bit, as if he was ashamed to be asking.

"i just so happen to have a dollar," i said. i stood up to rummage in my bottomless purse. but i paused, stuck out my hand and said "i'm elisabeth."

he kind of looked at my hand for a second, and then he looked at me and back at my hand, as if he was confused. he leaned in a little bit and took my hand, "michael."

as a fished for my wallet, michael leaned in a little bit more and handed me another flower, "this," he began, i looked up to meet his eyes, and he looked away shyly, "this one is for your name."

i found my wallet, and as i pulled it out and handed him the dollar i had in my wallet i made some awkward conversation, not sure if i was helping put him at ease or making him more uncomfortable, "are you down here often, michael?"

he shifted, "well, i'm homeless, so..."

"oh, yeah, i mean, do you hang out around the downtown area?"

"yeah, i sleep on the mall and stuff...where are you from?"

"i live in dc," i said, differentiating myself from the billions of tourists who were wandering around chinatown.

"oh, really? what do you do?" he asked.

"i'm unemployed..."

michael for the first time looked into my eyes and thrust the dollar back into my hand. "you need this, too!" he said.

"oh, no, you can have it, you gave me a flower." i said, and then went on to weakly, and in retrospect, unnecessarily, explain that my husband had a job, and i was lucky in that respect.

"well, i hope you like your flowers." michael replied, and he walked away.

he left me with two flowers and a whole lot to think about. as luke and i move closer and closer into solidarity with the poor and marginalized, this situation led me to think about what it really looks like to stand in solidarity with the poor. i will never be poor. i will always have a loving family to return to, who is able to support me in any way they possibly can. this is one of the blessings i have been given. but i was thinking about what ways i can and should identify with the poor, and what things will always separate me from them. these separations are things i will need to acknowledge and accept before we can truly thrive in the communities where God has and will lead us. i would be kidding myself and our current and future neighbors if i acted as if we were monetary equals. it would be, in some ways, making light of their situation. instead, i need to embrace my background, my privilege and my monetary wealth, and willingly lay it down at the feet of Christ in order to go fully to those with whom i wish to serve.

i was thinking about how absurd this all is, and how i'm not sure what it all looks like. i was thinking about what distinctions are necessary for me to make and which ones are not. for example, was it necessary that i tell michael that my husband had a job? it's true, i am not homeless because luke has an amazing job. that is a point of separation. but did that help or hurt our communication? and i'm not sure.

all of this thinking led me to Jesus (rightly so) and how He came down to us to identify with us. as craig puts it "Jesus moved from the most exclusive gated community in the universe to go to the worst ghetto in the world..." He was fully God and fully man, and yet the fact that He was fully God did not separate Him from us. Jesus spent His time holding children, touching lepers, hanging out with prostitutes and healing every kind of brokenness. He did not shy away from confronting sin or demons. He always did what was right. He loved people, and He did not let the fact that He was God get in the way. He identified with people in ways that they didn't know was possible. He spoke to their heart issues with words that they had never before heard.

i wonder what my own interaction with michael looked like to Jesus? i've thought through our interaction several times. how to michael my name was just as important to him as a dollar. how confused he looked when i held out my hand to him. i wonder how long it has been since someone had shaken his hand or asked him for his name. how long it had been since someone had looked at him like he wasn't invisible. and then if i ruined our own fragile interactions by pointing out that i am monetarily secure, and he is not.

i know that i am not nor will i ever be Jesus. but i want Jesus to love people through me. i have a long way to go before i am poured out enough to let Jesus fill me and overflow me with His perfect love. but one fragile whirlybird butterfly flower at a time, He is showing me what it is like to be human and to identify with and love the humans around me.