The molester down the hall. Should I ignore him?

It was nothing short of appalling. Twenty years ago something unspeakable happened at a sleepover. A stupid thing really, but a child was damaged. A family torn apart. A community horrified.

A permanent label was applied to this once upstanding citizen. And he rightfully suffered through the humiliation, stood before the condemnation of a jury of his peers and went to prison where who knows what happened. It’s hard to feel sorry for the guy.

The good news is that somewhere along this tragic journey he found a Savior that yes, died for and loved such a wretched man as he. The man had made amends as best he could, righted his ship and found the narrow road again.

The bad news is that he works down the hall. Someone had heard a rumor and a quick google search confirmed the wagging tongues. The state had him on a list that warned all the neighbors that he once was a very bad man. And the assumption that goes with the label is one not easily shaken.

He eats alone. He works hard, head down just doing his job. Doesn’t laugh out loud.

It’s obvious, he needs a friend.  

But that can’t possibly be me, because I’m pretty busy these days and a guy with that kind of label comes loaded with lots of issues.

Surely there’s someone better qualified to do this. That’s a great job for my pastor, because he’ll talk to anyone. Or Mary Ann because in her The-Spirit-just-told-me-you-needed-a-good-word-today way, she might just be perfect.

Or not. 

I was reminded about a woman who stood at a well. She had her own label. Wrong race. Had a string of husbands behind her and was shacking up with another guy. Probably had dirt under her nails. And God in the flesh asked for a cup of water without any qualms.

I forget that I have my own label and I was asked for a cup of water, too.

Please, share with a friend if you feel moved.
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