The Man of Little Faith: A Weary Traveler (August 2 [Kendall])

Faith in…
Faith of…
Faith because…
There was a man I knew once. He used to talk from place to place, seemingly lost and without worry.
Always the same place. Always the same time. Always the same black look on his face as if he was looking beyond this world and into something far more.
I don't know his name. I don't know where he came from. I don't know where he went. All I know is I saw him.
There are any number of questions have come popped into my mind about this man: where is he going? Where did he come from? What is he thinking about? Is he homeless? Does he have a job? Where is his family? What is his name? What does he see when he looks at the world? Does he believe in a god?
All of these questions remained unanswered, as I never took the time to talk to him. I merely saw him walking down the sidewalk, at the same time, the same place, and always with that gaze as if he were seeing things far beyond the normal eye of man. Mystical almost, the way he would seemingly be peering into the universe from the sidewalk; seeing the meaning of life play out before his eyes or seeing the creator create new things to be experienced in another world. I don't know, but it seemed magical to say the least.
To be able to gaze into the clear blue sky and see creation. To peer into a clear lake and experience creation. To walk down the street and be a part of creation. This guy had it. He saw, experienced and was a part of creation beyond what I could fathom. Walking. Looking. Being. Relating. Faith.
The day after I didn't see him, I got worried. What happened to this guy? He was a guidepost for my day, as I saw him at the same place and same time daily. He would be walking down the street, until the day he wasn't. I didn't think about it then, but it happened again. Same time, same place, no guy.
I had grown accustomed to seeing him in that spot. I always had new questions I wanted to ask him. I always came up with new reasons not to talk to him; new reasons not to stop and ask if he would like a ride; new reasons not to be a part of his world… until he was gone. I missed him, and began filling the regret bubble up in my soul. If only…
If only I had stopped.
If only I had talked.
If only I had asked.
If only….
Gone.
Day in and day out I drove by the spot. Different times, different speeds. Hoping, praying even, that maybe he just changed his schedule. Nothing. He wasn't there, ever.
As I was about to lose hope, to give up my search for the guy who became such an important part of my life. I decided to do something crazy… I decided to walk the path of this man, in hopes that I would find him there. Hanging out somewhere, sitting in a door way just out of sight. Just out of reach. I don't know where he came from, or where he went, so I just started walking.
I walked north to south.
I walked east to west.
Always finding a way to end up at the same spot, at the same time. Always with this feeling inside, that I was a part of something bigger. A story unfolding below my feet, but I wasn't sure what it was. So, I kept walking.
People passed me by: never stopping, never talking, never asking, and just watching. I walked, they watched. I walked, they watched. I walked, they watched. Same place. Same time. Watching. Walking.
I couldn't give up; there was a man out there that I needed to talk to, that I wanted to converse with. He was the key to making sense of all of this, but he was nowhere to be found. I continued to walk every day—same places, same times, always looking, never finding. People continued to pass me by, but never stopping, never asking, never realizing that I was searching for a missing person. I never stopped to ask if anybody had seen him. I was going to find him myself… by myself… for myself… me. It became my personal mission to track down this nameless man who always walked the same path, the same time, the same everything. He looked as if he was seeing the world beyond ours, where people actually cared. Where people stopped to talk to stranger. Where people were a part of creation as well as saw creation and experienced the process of creation. He saw a magical place that could never exist here—in this world.
He saw God.
I wanted what he had. I wanted to see what he saw. I wanted to gaze into the blue sky and see creation happening. I wanted to reach out and touch the lives of people who were hurting. I wanted to truly be a part of something awesome… but I became tired. There was no finding this man. There was no gaining what he had. There was no seeing what he saw. I could not be a part of the creation experience. I was too late… lost… without hope… without guidance… stuck… tired… done.