Under the Overpass

Why put value in golden shimmer

And lack luster sparkles of porcelain silver

To what does wealth apply 

What cost is this greatest lie

That treasure is found in things

Maximized in subsidized financial gains

Brought from the diamond mines

Served with the lustful wines   

Wrought by unthinking hands

That do not proceed from the heart

Awake oh sleeper 

And the light of Christ will shine on you

Treasure is more than money, and money is what you make of it. At least that's what I learned from a good friend. I woke up on Monday and wanted more, but more is an interesting idea. I didn't want more things and I didn't want more time, not necessarily. So that kind of eliminated the American dream from my list. What I wanted, what I felt and yearned for was... well, life. I wanted treasure, like the kind that Jesus talks about in his parables. The kind that is hidden in a field and you sell everything you have just to buy that field.

I had herd about something a group of Christians are doing in Clyde the other week and it really intrigued me. They call it Treasure Hunts. Every weekend a group of believers from Kingdom Life Fellowship get together and pray. They ask the lord to show them his treasure. After they pray and meditate they start to write things down that come to mind. Like blue hat, or subway, or broken arm. Then they head out, find the person, pray for them, and give the glory to God. 

When I woke up our community had a time of prayer and I pressed in asking in my heart: "Lord why not have a treasure hunt here in Abilene right now?" As we left the house i felt pulled to the parking lot of the near by United store. I turned off the car and sat for a moment in the muggy stale air. The discomfort shrugged off as I pressed in once more. I sat and waited. After a while I began to think about the homeless people I see standing at the corner by Walmart. You know, the one with the signs that say homeless need money for food. Homeless people are my passion, at least that's what I'm coming to know in my heart, but its hard some times to know what's best with the cardboard sign holders. So often they ask for something and use it for something else, but maybe that's just my hard heart. The more I thought about it though the more I wanted to get out of the car.

Finally I decided I would walk over to Walmart. Why walk? I'm not sure I know the answer. I like walking better most times, but it just seemed like I should take my time getting there. You never know if you're going to miss something. There is a certain quality intrinsic in the little things around us, most of which whisk by faster than the eye can catch. The insulated bubble of car travel can shelter you from life little gifts. So I attempted to remain patient. It wasn't a short walk by any means, and the day continued to grow hotter as I went. When I reached the Overpass by I-20 I began to cross the street. Coming to the median an old man walked out in front of me. It was kind of startling for a moment because he wasn't there a split second before. I guess he came from behind the bridge support lingering to my left. Once I saw him I was compelled to follow. I don't know why, I just was. He crossed the street through the busy traffic and I followed. Some times crossing a major intersection can be like real life Frogger but if you've ever seen a homeless person navigate there is a strange and daring mix of fearlessness combined with excellent timing that seem to be an art. This was certainly the case with the old man in front of me.

A busy gas station lay ahead of us and he made straight for the bath room. I decided not to be a creeper so I looked around for some shade. A large air pump carved out a place in the curb next to me and delivered just enough canopy to sit under. As I sat I felt the soft touch of communication come silently over my heart. It said "wait." In fact I felt like I needed to wait ten minutes. After a while the man came out of the rest room and went in to buy a beer. When he came out I expected him to see me and say something, most homeless people seem to do that with me. To my extreme surprise he didn't look at me and he didn't say a word. In fact I got up almost as if to great him and then watched intently as he walked across the street and disappeared amidst the traffic. Honestly I grew a little impatient waiting on the lord's treasure. If it wasn't this homeless man, or I don't know maybe I just missed my chance. Actually the thought of that made me feel worse. I remembered the feeling that I should wait another couple minutes. So I did.

Not long after a family pulled up to get their fill of gasoline. The husband was yelling and the wife was biting her lip. I felt sad and began to pray for them. They left just as the ten minutes passed. It was only hours later that I would see this couple again, living in the house across the street from our friend Zelma. No doubt I should be in prayer for them. With the ten minutes past I got up and stilled my mind for a second. Suddenly I felt a strong sense that some one the Cracker Barrel across the parking lot needed encouragement. When I went in there I saw a cashier wearing a pretty somber face. I knew it was the one, but I wimped out because she came right next to me after I came in. Now I was losing patience with my self completely. Walking over to Walmart I wanted to check out the lost and found section. My wallet had been missing for a few days. The irony only strikes me now, that I looked for my wallet on the treasure hunt. It doesn't matter either way because I didn't find it. I will say this however: be nice to the customer service people, very few are and yet they seem to keep up a good bit of patience.

Ambling out of Wally World I found myself facing the overpass once more. This time I could see, at just the right angle to catch the glimpse of a backpack. It was resting behind the bridge's pillar on the right side. 

"The name's Dan" He said. He hates to stay in one place for too long, has everything he needs, and doesn't need much. All I had was a dime so I said he could have it, if it would help. He refused and reached into his pocket for a dollar bill. He looked at me with a wry smile, like the years of his life and experience were towering down on me. He said, "I'll make you a dollar bill Bowtie. Curiously I watched as he folded the bill over and back, out and in. His crusted worn hands seemed to touch the paper with such grace and care. Ten minuets passed and still he continued to fold the unending dollar bill. As the time passed we looked up at each other and began to laugh. "Takes a long time don't it?" he said "It does." I replied. "With patience good things come." he said.

Dan is a good friend. He's very wise and he taught me that the lord's treasure is us.... his children.