Tattooed

'Just another thug'.

That's what I thought at least. This young man, baggy pants, shaved head, black socks, area code tattooed on his neck. I knew the type. I had seen them a hundred times before, and usually I make sure to walk on the other side of the street. Not because I hate them...more like I'm afraid of them. But today this thug was taking the same bus as me so he couldn't be avoided.

Up walks a little old man...wheezing, limping, leaning on the bus as he waits his turn to board. My heart goes out to the old man but it's loud and crowded. I don't take the time to say anything. But to my surprise, thug boy does.

"Hey, how you doin'? You alright? You holdin' up?" The old man smiles and nods. The young thug says 'You take care now," and gets on the bus.

Oh Father, forgive me. My eyes saw, but my heart was closed. My mind reacted, but my spirit remained silent. That boy is someone's son...someone loves and prays for him. He is a human...a soul that needs a savior.

I pray that I can look past the marks of sin that are branded on mankind, and see the spirit within. I pray that You give me Your sight Lord so I can see what You see, so I can love like You love...

...so I can perhaps smile at a thug at a bus stop, and maybe even let him see You in me.