@powertochange:

The Beggar

Written by Eric Reynolds

October 26, 2011

He crouches, leaning against the concrete wall. He’s wearing a tattered tapestry of blankets: singular outfit. You don’t linger long enough to know how he smells, and you don’t want to. His face looks up with eyes that don’t see – never have seen. He is repulsive, just ask the people that pass him each day. “That’s Tim. He comes from a real rich family. Dunno how he ended up there… Must have done something pretty bad or pretty stupid. Just glad I’m not him!”

Each day is the same: beg, scrounge, get by. Except for this day. A man walks down the street and Tim feels it. He hears the whispers and knows that if anyone can really help him, it’s this man. The king.

Is he good? Will he care?

No one cares, why would the most important man be any different? It makes no sense, and Tim knows it. Against rational thinking, he starts to yell, “King! Help me, my King! Do you care about me? Show me some pity, some mercy! My KIIIIING.” His voice, hardly accustomed to conversation, strains with the newfound volume. The croaking clears into a shout and people that used to tolerate his presence begin to resent him. “Tell that man to shut up,” they whisper. Finally someone approaches. “Hey! He doesn’t care about you!” Nothing to lose, Tim begins to shriek in frustration. He knows the king is close, judging by the crowd he hears. But will the king hear? Is he close enough?

Tim reaches out for a passerby and grabs coat. “Can you lead me to him?” pleading with eyes that don’t know where to look.

“Get off me!”

He screams some more: “Help me, my King!”

His voice begins to tatter like the blankets that surround him. He hears a woman’s voice.

“He wants to see you. Follow me.”

Is she serious? He abandons his threadbare livelihood and takes a few steps toward the woman. “That’s right. Over here.” He bumps into someone. “Give me your hand,” she says.

She weaves her way through the crowd, blindness in tow behind her. He felt more blind than ever. What would he say to the King? Was he being publicly humiliated? Punished? He didn’t really have much time to think before his ears told him… he was before the king. The murmuring was low. A man nearby muttered what everyone was thinking, “Why him?” The king’s eyes gave the answer as they looked upon the man: undeserved compassion.

“You called for me. What would you like?” The man swallowed. Now was the time. Never in his life would he have this opportunity again. Hundreds watched. Thousands? It was hard to tell… they were silent in disbelief. He knew what he wanted more… than anything! But dare he ask?

“I want to see.”

Now it was silent. The poor man. The blind man. The beggar with nothing. Standing before the king without a gift, without a service, with only empty pockets and profound need. A need to be filled. With sight. The only thing more unbelievable than this audacity is the king’s response.

“And so you shall see.” As if to answer the crowd’s astonished ‘Why?’ the king finished simply, “your faith in your king has healed you.”

Q: Do we truly believe that our King is good and able to answer our prayers?