Sarah and I recently saw a great exhibit at the Washington History Museum: CAPTURE THE MOMENT: The Pulitzer Prize Photographs.

There were, of course, many awesome photographs — Classic images of wars, significant presidencies, international crises, as well as joyful moments, celebrated lives, and great accomplishments. As photojournalism should, these pictures not only captured the moment, but could often sum up the entire context and emotional state of an event, people group or nation. Each photo was presented enlarged, with the story of how the photographer got the shot, and her/his reflections on the picture.

I’ve been thinking about this one lately:

The description talked about how many of the people in this homeless community in Philadelphia viewed themselves as “The Last Free Men”, having broken free from social enslavement, corporate bondage, and conformative norms and pressures. I love how the man above is defiantly “parked” directly under the sign forbidding it.

The homeless woman standing outside my car window always make me feel a little uncomfortable. Why? It is not a matter of who they are or how they look; rather it is what being in proximity to another member of humanity (who has no car, home, clean clothes, job, bank account, etc) reveals about me. Her very life is a subtle judgement on what remains of my worldly value system.

While my mind works to defend my own levels of “social enslavement”, i have to recognize that there is some challenging Truth to their claim. I struggle to let tomorrow worry for itself. I seek to provide for myself (and nearly solely myself and Sarah) food and clothing. I am constantly tempted to value people based on how well they speak, dress, or otherwise perform within the social system. In too many ways, i have let the world conform my life and my mind, rather than my Jesus, who had no place to lay his head.

Jesus, as a transient, lived radically outside the repressive systems of his day. And even more radically, he called the world to join him.

So, while i am not about to take Sarah, and move out onto the streets, and while i’m sure most homeless people are not there by choice and would indeed love to re-integrate with society, I find that i am thankful that they are visible in my city and in my neighborhood. I’m thankful for the reminder that life can indeed be lived without all that i cling to — i am not my bank account, i am not my fucking khakis. I’m thankful that they make me uncomfortable. And i’m thankful that they provide a direct way for me to interact with and love the one i call Lord, who still identifies with the smelly, rag-covered, homeless of Seattle.