Digging in the Garbage Bin... At Panama City Beach

We were gassing up the rental vans and about to head home from our youth trip to beautiful Panama City Beach, Florida.  We had been there four days and by now I think we were all at our whits end.  Nonstop sand, surf, sun, late nights and early mornings, going all day long relentlessly pursuing beach fun, while intoxicating as it was, it has a way of becoming so wearing on our bodies that our dreams turn from hammocks on the beach to home.

I walk into the station to prepay for gas and hand the clerk a bajillion dollar bill in hopes to convince him to turn on the pumps and I see a dude rummaging through the huge garbage bin out behind the station. As I walk out, and begin filling up, I look to see if he's looking for cans or for food.  He leans out of the garbage bin with a Styrofoam take out plate, opens it up, sees no food and tosses it back into the bin.  One of our teens peeks her head out of the van and says to me with a tone of desperation in her eyes, "He's looking for food, Jeremy." I replied, "I know."

As I open the back of the van to our snack stash, another teen rescues a Wal Mart sack that seemed to be helplessly swirling in the cyclone of teen garbage from within our own rolling 15 passenger garbage bin.  We begin filling the bag with all kinds of crackers, chips, snacks, water bottles and can drinks. I head over to the man, a tall slender gentleman in his fifties. His long, unkept, dark hair was already drenched in sweat at about 9:45am from pursuant digging.  The warm, savory sea air switched quickly to the stale stench of hot, wet garbage.  I asked him if he can use the snacks and he says in a northern accent that reminded me of Michigan, "Brother, I tell you they won't go to waste."  He smiled at me a smile of relief.  He then offered to tell me in a somewhat sincere tone that he just can't find any work.

I wanted to say something to him... probably something religious, but I felt it disingenuous to preach at him coming from a position of priviledge.  Here I was in nice clothes, driving expensive air conditioned rental vans with a crew of well dressed teenagers shackled to iPhones, iPods and iPads.  The best thing I thought to say was just simply and honestly ask him, "You know God loves you don't you?"  His reply, "He must. He keeps sending me people like you."

I turn to walk away and he just points his finger straight to heaven as if to say, "You never fail me."

We drove off with the sea to our backs as salty tears begin to sting my sun burnt cheeks.  The thought racing through my head was, "God, you never meant for you children to live like that."  He whispered back to me, "Yeah, but I did mean for them to love like that."  Then His faithful words rang in my heart, "A bag of snacks offered in my name won't be forgotten in my kingdom."

I don't tell this story to pat myself or our youth on the backs.  We really didn't do much. I do, however, want to encourage us -- we who live in the lap of luxury and plenty -- to love like Christ. 

The guy refused to shake my hand because of the garbage on his hands.  I wish now I would have grabbed him anyway and hugged Him.  This is the image I see when I read in the scriptures how Jesus hugged the lepers He met in Panama City Beach.