A wasting, wretched, dehumanized shell

I saw a man this evening, obviously a bottomed-out addict, his head scarred from beatings and sutures, sores on his face and back from disease, his frame wasting, the skin of his face and neck dark from flagging health, barely cognizant of his place in line, receiving his insulin and pills, and my heart broke for the shell of humanity that I saw. My initial disdain at his willful wretchedness and the bother of his presence melted into heartache for the sadness of his condition and the dehumanizing acts which he most certainly performed to maintain his chemical fugue state. I hung my head in sorrow and I wondered if a tear might fall. That’s probably how Jesus dug so deeply within himself to invest in such profound prayer and fasting so as to acquire the heart of God and the curative, restorative power that flowed therefrom.