An Improbable Story Found Among The Homeless
On The Streets Of Savannah
Meet my new friend, Lonnie.
My new friend is homeless, physically weak, almost totally blind, and has a Christian faith that exceeds that of most people I know, including mine.
I met Lonnie (we didn’t share names immediately and he was very specific on its spelling (l-o-n-n-i-e) in Savannah, GA outside a CVS store. Marian and I were in Savannah as a layover in the final leg of our trip home after attending the graduation of two grandchildren from high school. We noticed Lonnie before entering the store and I immediately started to go through the classic options to (1) ignore him, (2) give some cash and be gone, or (3) engage. I was hoping that he would vanish before we left and I wouldn’t have to make a decision. But he was still outside when it was time to leave and it was obvious that God was challenging me take a stand. Marian suggested giving him come coins. I recited the philosophy of “don’t give anything because he will only use it for booze or drugs.” We walked a few more steps and I froze. Then I said, “We have to give him something. I can’t just ignore him.”
Lonnie sat in a wheelchair, hunched over, holding a plastic container for donations. There was nothing in it. He wasn’t aggressive or even asking. He didn’t even look up as I moved toward him.
As I went up to him I said, “I am so sorry to see you here in this condition” and dropped a dollar bill into his container. Then I asked him his name. In a lowered voice, as if not to be heard (yet there was no one around to overhear him), he asked me, “Are you Christian?” “Yes, I am” I responded and he said, “I knew it.” And so began our acquaintance.
It was not the response I expected or could possibly have imaged. In that instance I knew something important was happening, just not sure what.
Every word he said carried some sort of faith message or piece of hard-earned wisdom. He had no complaints and didn’t blame anyone or anything for his condition.
I wasn’t clear where to take our conversation but felt comfortable to ask him what his favorite Scripture was. At first he said the Psalms and I asked him which one. He thought for a moment, then said, “no, it’s Genesis.” He continued, “God created a beautiful world but I am worried now. Only he can fix it.”
There was so much more of value which he said, but I was so focused on really hearing him that most of it has been lost. Then it was time to move on. I put my hand on his shoulder, prayed over him, and we left.
I hadn’t walked more than a few steps when I asked Marian, “What just happened? That was the most incredible conversation and an opportunity to witness. And it all happened because I didn’t give into conventional thinking, took a chance, and dropped a dollar bill into his container. We’ll look for him again tomorrow.” She agreed.
Savannah has a series of squares laid out in the riverfront area. Originally 24 were built for public enjoyment but only 22 remain. The earliest was designed in 1733 and named for Georgia’s first Royal Governor, John Reynolds. In the center stands a monument to John Wesley, the founder of Methodism and the Anglican minister to the colony in 1736. Our hotel was opposite Reynold’s Square. Like all squares it is a destination for the homeless. In them landscape beauty and history are mingled with despair and destitution. They are safe enough, usually having police close by and, no doubt, informed by local knowledge not to mess with the tourists.
The next day we walked out of our hotel, a classic Savannah landmark called The Planter’s Inn, and scanned the people who were there. Who did see but Lonnie, exiting from a storefront* just opposite the Inn and across from the square. We immediately went over to him and called his name. He remembered us, we shook hands, and picked up on our conversation where we left it the day before. He struggled with his wheelchair, walking it to a place where we could talk quietly.
Again, there was so much to remember but it has been forgotten in the effort to focus on him and offer him the dignity of attentive conversation. One point I do recall is his reference to a female friend who he hopes to rejoin in North Carolina. He spoke with the sadness that comes with knowledge of her condition; she is blind due to diabetes.
And again, there is no bitterness in his voice. What I clearly heard him say was his hope that she will find strength in Christ to move beyond the loss of joy in her life because of the blindness. Recall that Lonnie is virtually blind himself and asks for no pity.
The world’s problems still concern and perplex him, said with his favorite expression, “You hear what I’m sayin’?” I heard.
There’s an inspiring feeling of doing what is right when you have a conversation with someone like Lonnie, whom most (like myself) would prefer to pass and ignore, where people walk by wondering, “what is going on?” I can’t describe it except that it is profoundly satisfying and self-affirming without being prideful.
It was time to leave. I put a twenty into his hand and said, “This is a twenty. (Because of his eyesight he might not be able to recognize denominations.) Don’t lose it.” Then he said the most touching comment. “You know what I appreciate? It was not the money you gave me but the friendly voice, the lack of judgement; you didn’t insult me but gave me your time.”
Prior to this trip, I was asking myself, “How do I defend my faith? How do I witness in this world?” The Lord works in wondrous ways. How could I have imaged that both of these thoughts were answered by the simple gesture of putting a dollar bill into the cup of a blind, homeless person in Savannah, and being guided by a force beyond myself.
*The building that Lonnie exited on our second day was managed by an organization called the Emmaus House (borrowed from the story of how the apostle Paul encountered the risen Christ on the road to Emmaus). This organization feeds, clothes, and offers facilities to wash clothes and shower for the homeless. It has a security guard to ensure safety. It was started in 1982 by a group of churches in Savannah led by Christ Church Episcopal. Emmaus House is a prime example of the outpouring of love to a community of Christ’s children who are homeless, hungry, and sometimes blind.
