He is my friend. He is my neighbor. He has no home. We moved into his neighborhood and it didn’t take 48 hours before he rang the doorbell in such a unique way. He holds the button a half second longer than any person that has ever come to our door. When the ring comes, we know, its Clarence. He is about 45 years old and is always ‘looking for work.’ It was the first time in my life that I wrestled with the question: how do I love my neighbor, when my neighbor has no home? My worldview always defined my neighbor as literally living in the same context as me, in a home. I thought the fabric on our couch may be a little different or the choice for dinner may each be unique, but never imagined calling a homeless man my neighbor. It was a piece of the Gospel I never wrestled with in my life. He needs money and he needs food. What is my responsibility?
The doorbell rang and I instantly stepped into a new view of neighboring. At the start, I felt like the relationship was oppressive because I granted his request or I didn’t, it was dependant on my decision in the moment. It was my decision to feed him or my decision to give him money for work. I was pushing my decision down on him. That was unjust. What could I be learning or gaining from him? What could he possibly do for me? What would I gain by knowing him?
Clarence struggles with addictions and as he says ‘on the streets you have to look out for yourself.’ He is honest in a lying kind of way. His life is what you see. His story is what you hear. His future is not a question that he can even comprehend. The timeline he must live is looking for his next meal. His pride is great and will tell you about the house he painted by himself in the neighborhood. Clarence works hard and has the ability to focus on one project much better than I could ever do.
There was a break through in our relationship this past week with Clarence when he needed to use my phone. I showed him my iphone, ‘Your I-what?” He didn’t know how to use it and told me I need to get a real phone because the sound is too quiet. He was leaving a message for a woman that needed work and he said “Now you have my number, just call me back and my friend Jeff will find me.” I was torn in that moment, apparently I am now his personal assistant and Clarence considers me his friend. Dignity in our relationship has been reached.
The things I learn from Clarence are birthed from a frustration of him being different than me. The selfish way that I see the world is always broken when I have to consider him in conversation. Without Clarence I wouldn’t think about how people on the street feel when it rains. Without Clarence I wouldn’t know that all homeless people are not looking for handouts. Without Clarence I wouldn’t think about how the changing seasons and temperatures will influence the living conditions of the impoverished. Without Clarence I wouldn’t understand what it means to love my neighbor.
