Nobody is a Caricature

By Travis Jones

As we consider the topic of homelessness this month, and our attitude towards those who are homeless, let’s consider how we can change our hearts towards our neighbors experiencing homelessness.

I want to start by sharing some reflections from a woman during her 7 week experience living on the streets of Columbus, Ohio:

I’m just a lazy bum. I want a handout, a free ride. I’m a stupid drunk, a strung-out junkie. I’m violent, I’m schizo, I’m paranoid. I don’t care about anybody but me. I’m on the street because I want to be. I’m a lost soul…

Maybe I’m many of these things, maybe none at all – what do you people know? But my worst flaws and frailties aren’t so different from yours. Some of you are lazy. Some of you would like a free ride, buying your lottery tickets, going on game shows, leaping at frivolous lawsuits, obsessing over stocks. Some of you are addicts, grappling with hidden cravings, appetites out of control. Some of you are violent, especially at home, behind closed doors. Some of you are afraid, depressed, messed up in the head. Some of you are self-absorbed. Some of you have made tragic choices out of desperation, anger, overwhelming grief. Some of you feel lost, like I do.

You probably don’t like admitting these things. Maybe that’s why I, a lowly street person, offend you: I’m a public reminder of your own imperfections; your own shame, even. If you ignore me, maybe you can go on pretending you’ve got no problems.

But I’ll tell you something. Whatever problems you’ve got, whatever problems I’ve got, they’re not who we are. Nobody’s a caricature. You and me, we’re human beings. It’s just we forget sometimes, and need each other’s help remembering.¹

We are all multifaceted human beings. We all deal with the same problems that come with the human condition. So we must not make judgments about people whom we have never even spoken with.

There are many opinions on how we ought to respond to the person on the street corner with a cardboard sign, and many people make the case that we shouldn’t give them anything, assuming they’ll use the money to buy drugs, or trade the items you give to get alcohol. But by withholding the resources God has given us to steward because we are concerned with how they might be used, are we trying to exercise our control over another person? Are we trying to help them but only in the way that we want them to be helped?

I’m not saying you must give money or stuff to everyone you see living on the streets. If the Spirit has convicted you to be generous either with money or other items, such as socks, granola bars, or water, then do so. But we must also examine our own hearts in our giving or withholding. We must ask ourselves, “Are we honestly trying to help and empower them? Or are we just opting for the easy and comfortable thing to do?”

Ultimately, they not only need physical resources to help them, but emotional and relational support as well. Treat them with dignity and respect, look them in the eye and ask their name. You will find that when you talk to someone face to face, they become less of the caricature we first made them into. Having this conversation costs you nothing, besides maybe your comfort for a brief moment.

Let’s learn to look beyond our initial assumptions and judgments and recognize that these individuals experiencing homelessness are people, made in the image of God. They are someone’s son or daughter, brother or sister, mother or father. Let’s learn to be present with them, and through our presence with them, let’s be open handed stewards of all that God has given us and show the gracious generosity we have been shown by God.

¹Phyllis Cole-Dai, James Murray, The Emptiness of Our Hands: 47 Days on the Streets, 3rd ed. (Bruce, SD, Bell Sound Books, 2018), 103-104.