The guy with dreadlocks, Scripture-tattooed arms, and painter's pants with actual paint stains reads his well-worn Bible and looks up into the distance, considering. Across the aisle from him on the 6:45 #49 bus, I read mine on my iPhone. I am in fellowship with him, far more than I am in so many social diversions and amusements with God's people, because we are seeking Jesus together.
The homeless ladies get on at the stop in front of St. Mark's Cathedral, all their worldly possessions in tow as they break camp again, same as every morning. This is my Father's world.
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