Compassion for a Monk

 What moves you?

Perhaps it's the movie you watched last weekend, or the book you're reading, or maybe its the people you pass each day on the way to work...

A few years ago I was riding my bicycle on my usual path to work, and as I waited for the light at the freeway off-ramp, I saw a familiar face… one as consistent as the stoplights. Each morning ‘Monk’ stands at the off-ramp leaning over his cane and holding a sign asking for money. He had been wearing the same clothes for about a year. They call him Monk because he prays a blessing on the cars that pass by. He runs the business there and all the others who panhandle in the region know to 'schedule' their time and spot with Monk. It is serious business.

We’ve had some interesting conversations. Monk (his street name) keeps a massive knife on his belt. One day he told me about a man who had threatened a woman nearby, and Monk and “some of the guys” were going to “take care of him” when they found him. Monk and I had lunch one day and he shared with me about his dishonorable discharge from the military for his Heroin use in Vietnam. The drug has chased him ever since. My dad served in Vietnam. He shared with me about his dream of re-connecting with his kids someday, and I could hear the brokenness in his words about the pain he had caused them.

Our conversation this day was typical intersection chat. “Somebody stole my tent yesterday!” he said angrily, “and when I find em’ I’m gonna Cut em’ up!”

For the next few hours I couldn’t stop thinking about Monk. The weatherman was promising temperatures in the teens and likely snow. With no shelter I wondered how he would stay warm. He said he had been trying to get into The Hooper Detox Center for several weeks. For this and other reasons, I’ve never given him money.

As I thought about this man weathering the coming storm under an overpass, I couldn’t escape a sense of responsibility.

When Jesus saw the crowds of people I believe he noticed individual people like Monk, and it moved him. He knew their individual stories and spiritual condition. "When he saw the crowds, he had compassion on them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd." Matthew 9:36

But I couldn't bring Monk home. Most of the shelters would not take Monk due to his heroin use, and those that would, he would not go to because of the rules (rules like: you can't wear a 10" knife on your belt).

Then, I remembered an old backpacking tent I had that would suit him well. I set the tent by the door to take with me in the morning and put a small bible in the top of the tent bag.

The next morning the temperatures had dropped, and I found Monk dutifully holding his cardboard sign. He must have wondered what I was doing as I got off my bike. I handed the tent to him. I told him it was a faithful old tent that had served me well. Just then, and just a little, Monk began to cry.

He wasn’t saying anything, and then he said “come here”! He gave me a great big bear hug. “You don’t know how much this means…” he said. I told him I had put a Bible in with the tent, then I said something like “The only real hope I have is Jesus. He’s the one who helps me when I need it.” Monk said “Yeah brother, me too!”

Over the next few weeks I didn’t see him. I wondered how he was fairing with the weather. The snow came, the temperatures dropped, and then the thaw. When the roads were passable again, I rode my bicycle to work and saw him there at the off-ramp. He was so happy to see me. He said, “I’ve been looking for you! Thank you so much for the tent Brother! It really helped me and a buddy make it through, and thank you for the Bible! I carry it with me everywhere I go!”

I recently bumped into Monk at a local restaurant, and he was looking much better. He stopped by my table to tell me he had been clean for several months. He really looked it. When I think about Monk, I'm moved with compassion. I see a child who is lost. A veteran un-thanked. A man who wants to know his place. A father who loves his children.

com·pas·sion

Def. "a feeling of deep sympathy and sorrow for another who is stricken by misfortune, accompanied by a strong desire to alleviate the suffering."

What inspires you to be generous? Can you think of a time you felt joy by helping another person out?  Please share your story with me by leaving a comment below. Thanks for reading!