Round Rimmed Glasses

In they marched, wearing and carrying everything they owned in plastic bags and pockets. With longing in their eyes, burdens weighing heavily on their hearts, and hunger in their bellies they came to us and swarmed our heated bowls of pasta and trays of pastries. Drinks couldn't come fast enough as many said "thank you" numerous times while others' appreciation only shown in their eyes and tear-stained faces. One man in particular with round rimmed glasses and unshaven face just got one plate of food, picking up his belongings - everything he owned - in his free hand and fled through the door.

I wanted to go into the back and cry. I wanted to lie down and mourn for these people. How embarrassed they feel, and you can see it in their eyes.

But still, I pressed on, because my Jesus was one of these. I was waiting for Him to walk through the door and hold me and tell me it was all going to be alright because He was here now. It wasn't until after that I realized He was there. He was in each and every one of the peoples' eyes, begging for love, for compassion, from me. My Jesus, their Jesus, was inside of them.

But most importantly, he was with the man in the round rimmed glasses.