Day 3, Sunday 
April 3, 2005

A good night’s rest at the home of Ron and Sondra Robertson, members of the Impact Church of Christ. Repacked my gear so Ron could transport some to the church later this morning and I can walk with a lighter load to give my beat up feet a break. Wearing hiking sandals instead of boots. Walker is ready to go. I’m hoping to cover my scheduled 10 miles before church at 10:30 AM so I can take the entire afternoon off. Resuming the walk from Woodridge and I45, traffic is very light. I treated my blisters and hot spots with moleskin and Band-Aid Advanced Therapy Blister bandages. Feet still hurt but are much more comfortable in hiking sandals. Feeling good, moving at a good pace.

Sky begins to lighten as I approach U of H campus. Give an early (and probably unwelcome) wakeup call to my daughter in the dorm. Over the bridge by the campus, the downtown skyline first comes into view. The sun, just peeking over the horizon, illuminates the reflective glass of the skyscrapers with an eerie glow. My mind wanders back to a scene from a movie and I turn to Walker and say, “Look, Toto, it’s the Emerald City!”

One interesting thing about walking an area with which you’re not familiar, if you can’t see far enough ahead to be sure you’re following the right path, you simply have to make a decision and hope you don’t have to backtrack. Traveling on foot is very unforgiving both in terms of time and fatigue - following a wrong path can cost many minutes, moving so slowly, and also drains precious energy from the body. As with spiritual journeys, traveling a wrong path diverts us from our true purpose and effectiveness.

Passing U of H and moving toward downtown on Pierce, I began to see the evidence of homelessness - several unattended shopping carts and a bicycle behind a building. The carts were full of scavenged materials obviously valuable treasure to someone trying to make their way, as best they can, day by day. Before long, I was skirting the fringe of downtown. I tried to make eye contact and speak to the people on the street. Early Sunday morning in downtown Houston was strictly street people. Several commented on my dog, a few were obviously cautious in his presence even though I had him on a leash. Looking ahead, there is a man coming towards me pushing a shopping cart and walking very tenderly. I stop and speak to him, “How’s it going?” “Not too good.” “What’s up?” “Somebody stole my shoes last night.” I looked down to see feet with only socks. The concrete was rough and I know every step must have been painful. Suddenly, the fact that I had blisters - and shoes - seemed completely insignificant. “My name is Jeff Robinson, what’s yours?” “Isaiah.”

“Do you know about IMPACT?” I asked. He looked puzzled and I explained about the Impact Church of Christ (an inner city congregation just northeast of downtown that supports “outdoorsmen” (a more respectful term for the homeless) and where they are located. “If you go there, they will see that you get shoes.” I suddenly felt so useless to this man. I considered offering my own shoes but I decided against it for I still had are least five more miles to travel. Was I wrong? I hadn’t packed my other pair for today’s journey. Could I make it five miles in stocking feet? Later, I wished I had at least asked him his size. I could have gone and bought him shoes and brought them back to him. I intended to return to downtown later that afternoon to find him and get him some shoes, but I chose to spend my time with my family instead. God and Isaiah, please forgive me.

Moving north again I got beyond downtown and into an area where I knew I had to make several turns to cross the river and reach Washington Ave. I had not memorized the map or route but knew generally the direction. I was entering a more run down area that did not look as safe. How easy it is sometimes to make judgments based on appearance and to forget Who is protecting us. It certainly wasn’t my turf. “I’ll ask someone for directions,” I thought, but will anyone here help me? Up ahead is a man and woman. As I approach, she asks, “Does your dog bite?” “Never has, although he might lick you to death.” Now why did I give myself away like that? I told the truth for sure, but maybe I’d be safer if they thought he might be protective. FEAR, FEAR, FEAR. “Monica” was very interested in what I was doing. “Howell” was more aloof. “How do I get to Washington Avenue from here?” Monica gave me basic directions and then Howell suggested I cut through a large apartment complex just ahead. I thanked them for their help and began to move ahead the two blocks to where I would have to decide right or left. Actually, my decision was already made. I would stick to the city streets. The thought of crossing through a large apartment complex in this neighborhood seemed a bit more risky - FEAR. I turned left. A few more blocks and a few more turns and I was heading north on Studemont up to Washington.

Studemont crosses over the river and Memorial Dr. It’s a greenbelt region. Looking down between the north and south bound bridges of Studemont, I saw an outdoorsman with a dog packing up his stuff to head out for the day. He did not see me above and I snapped a candid photo. As I was putting away my camera, he looked up and saw me. “Good morning, I said.” Good morning” with a smile came the reply. How can a man with no home be so happy? The answer would soon become clear…

I called Sherri (my wife) to make sure she was up and knew how to get to the pickup point for today’s walk - Washington Ave. @ I-10. As we finished our conversation, I rounded the corner from Studemont to Washington now on the last leg of today’s journey. It appeared as though I might finish the course before time for church.

Walker was ready for a break and I was looking for a nice shady spot. A few blocks up I spotted a place across the street with big trees. As we crossed and stopped to rest, I could feel the eyes of the guys at the tire shop across the street watching as they opened their store for the day. Soon, I heard, “I’ve got plenty of water over here if you need it,” from across the street. Thinking only of the fact that I was sufficiently supplied, I let this opportunity pass. His offer may have been an invitation or expression of a need. How many times do we miss what God places before us because we don’t recognize the package its presented in? This man may have been dying to know Jesus and yet, being unaware of the nature of his own need, did not know how to express it in any way other than an offer to minister to me. Or, maybe I am simply reading too much into it. Either way, it can never hurt to honor the man (or woman) who offers assistance and bless and encourage them for having had the courage to reach out. We simply don’t want to seem dependent or needy - PRIDE, PRIDE, PRIDE.

Further up the way, Washington split right or left -which way - I can’t remember. Hopefully, it will become clear just in time. I thought I saw what looked like a freeway intersection in the distance to the right so I crossed the street and headed north. Then I saw him just ahead - five gallon bucket full of earthly possessions in one hand, and an igloo cooler in the other, ball cap and long sleeve shirt that looked really hot for a day like today. We met at the corner. “How’s it going?” I asked. I don’t recall the exact dialog, but I could tell by his response and the subsequent conversation that he believed in God and Jesus Christ. “Do you know about IMPACT?” I asked. “That’s where I’m headed,” he said. “Me, too. Would you like to walk along with me and I can give you a ride to church, my wife is picking me up at I-10 and Washington. I’m going to stop at McDonalds and have breakfast. Can I buy you breakfast?” So, we walked along the half-mile or so to McDonalds. I had breakfast. He had coffee. He had already eaten. We talked for most of an hour. He told me about having been a painter. He told me about having been shot in the chest at nearly point blank range and walking out of the hospital five days later. He told me about meeting the man who shot him eleven years later. The man was sure he had died. Then he told me that he was forty-nine years old. I would have guessed sixty or more. His name was Mike Allen and after we arrived at church, I never saw him again.

At IMPACT, I had two opportunities to share some of the story of Dry Bones and walking to Denver - in class and again in the assembly. But the most joyful event that occurred that day was that my daughter’s boyfriend of two years had decided to be baptized and I had the great privilege of immersing him into Christ. Another answer to many prayers. As we were leaving, what appears to be an outdoorsman is headed my way. He looks familiar somehow, but I can’t recall ever having met him before. He walks up and speaks to me. He obviously remembers me from somewhere. He introduces himself, but I am so preoccupied with trying to recall the connection that I can’t remember the name he gives. “You look very familiar,” I say. “”Yes,” he responds, “you spoke to me this morning, I was under the Studemont bridge.” “Oh yes,” I said, “ and you had a dog (Walker had been with us in class and assembly that morning).” “He’s right outside,” he said. “I’m so glad to see you here, God bless you,” I said. He was very encouraging and we parted company each having been blessed by our two “chance” meetings. You never know about the strangers you meet. They may be brothers or sisters unbeknownst to you. Treat them with respect and kindness, lest they be disappointed when they find out whose you are. I certainly had no clue that this man was a believer when I saw him under the bridge, nor the circumstances in which I would soon find out. This would not be the last time such an event occurred.

My son, his wife and daughter drove to Houston that morning to be there, so after church, we all, including my daughter and new brother in Christ all had lunch together. I had made arrangements to attend The Heights Church of Christ Sunday evening with my host for that evening. Mike and Shelly Bennett and their one-year-old daughter Katy treated me like a king for the night. Please be praying for their church. It is a very old congregation that is on the upside of the cycle that many churches experience of prosperity and decline.

Also, be praying for IMPACT as they grow and face a rather unique transition. They entered a blighted area specifically to serve the outdoorsmen and underprivileged of the inner city. Over the past ten years, the area they serve has become very attractive for redevelopment. It appears that in the coming months and years, more and more of the residents of this area will be displaced as economic development will make it impossible for them to afford to remain in their homes.