He has filled the hungry with good things but has sent the rich away empty – Lk. 1:53

Chicago’s Moody College, 2014

Twenty-four hours before registration, and the taxi pulled up at the south entrance. I had no idea where he would spend the night. I checked two hotels close by. One was full and the other was too expensive. Dragging my carry-on bag into the street, I tried to figure out my next move. The neon lights of a McDonald aroused my hunger and, in less than four minutes, I was seated in the restaurant reading “The Roots of Righteousness,” by A. W. Tozer, over a big chicken sandwich meal.

“Sir, you have to leave,” the security officer told the man who just came to sit at the next table by my side. His hair was tangled, and though his clothes were not that dirty, he had a pungent smell around him.

“Please give me a few minute to warm myself. I will leave shortly.”

Strangely, the officer walked away. I got uneasy as the man stared at me most of the time he was not checking out for the security officer.

“What does he want?” I asked myself.

I had an urge to buy him a meal, yet, I suppressed my feelings. What other sign did I need from heaven to tell me that the poor man was asking for a meal?

“Sir, I am afraid you have to leave now,” the officer said.

The man hesitated for a second, checked around, looked my way for the last time, and slowly walked towards the entrance. He stopped at the door, straightened his jacket, and walked into the late afternoon crowd. As I watched him slowly disappear, I couldn’t believe I didn’t offer him a simple meal I could afford.

Six hours later, I was like that man in the cold and windy Chicago afternoon, homeless and with no clue about where I was going to spend the night. I navigated the streets back to Moody and tried entering a hall. The door buzzed open after a third ring.

“I can only get you a room at one of the four hotels with discounted rates for the conference,” the receptionist said.

“Wait a minute. Did you say you are a Pastor from Senegal? Je suis Jose. Comment vous allez?” I worked through my broken French with this student and gained a bed for the night in his small apartment.

After breakfast and prayer in the school’s cafeteria, Jose left for his summer class. Did God bring this young man to teach me a lesson in sensitivity to Him and to the needs of others?

“How did things go with you yesterday?” The surprised question came from the first person I met when I arrived.

“Very well, thank you.”

As I told him about Jose, a repulsive feeling crept in me.

“The young Hispanic did for me what you didn’t give me.” But as the thought trailed away, I heard the Lord speak to me.

“How dare you complain? Remember the man in McDonalds yesterday?”

Isn’t that how we are most of the time? If Jesus were like me on that day, He would not have condescended to our level to lift us to Himself. But, filthy and smelly as we are, He still embraced us on Calvary and cleansed us with His precious blood.

It all started on a cold winter night, when we sat by Him in a manger where He was born. Unlike me in the Chicago McDonalds, Jesus “has filled the hungry with good things but has sent the rich away empty” (Lk. 1:53).

If only I could be like Him this Christmas season!