Greg

This is Greg. We met him in downtown Memphis on Beale St. - the typical entertainment street of a city - like Austin's 6th St., Nashville's Broadway, LA's 3rd St., San Diego's Gaslamp. He was asking for 50 cents...what for, I don't know.

Greg was from Massachusetts, but had wandered his way all around these United States. Austin, San Fran, Northridge, New England, and now, Memphis.

Greg had a big laugh and an even bigger smile. He was one part wit, two parts goof. He told a few jokes, and laughed hard at the inconsistencies of life. Greg was a straight-shooter - told it like it is, no pretense. He was a drink-in-hand drunk, though he was not drunk when we talked to him.

I wanted to avoid him at first, and was irritated when he came up asking for money. But there was no escape - a big group of kids standing in a circle, clearly not from Memphis, clearly lost, an easy target. And we got taken, more than once. I saw it all as it was unfolding, but still there was no escape.

Then I caught my selfishness, and fought a losing battle to defeat it. While trying to "protect" our group, and really myself, I defeated the purpose for which we came to Memphis - to care for and speak on behalf of the neglected, outcast, forgotten and broken. Though this was our purpose, here I was trying to escape from these very people, for sake of self-preservation. Oh the selfishness, the double-mindedness. Thank God for His grace and for my teammates, who were willing to talk to these neighbors of ours.