These aren’t sermons. They’re scenes — what was said, what was eaten, what was given back. The rest of the book is built the same way.
He took the sandwich without looking up. I asked his name and he said it twice, once for me and once for himself, like he was checking the spelling. Then he asked mine. We stood there on the sidewalk for a long time, two people who had just remembered they were people.
I had twenty dollars and a list of reasons to keep it. He had a story I didn’t entirely believe and a hand that was steadier than mine. I gave him the bill. He folded it once, slid it into his sock, and blessed me before I could decide whether I’d done the right thing.
Joy lived under the overpass and read aloud to anyone who’d sit. Her voice carried better than the traffic. She said the words like she had written them herself, and on the days I needed it most, I almost believed she had.
He stood up. He took a step. He took another step and looked at me like I was the one who needed an explanation. I didn’t have one. We laughed because there was nothing else to do, and then he walked away down the block, slower than the miracle deserved and faster than he’d walked in years.
Jesus said the kingdom was within. This is proof.— Step Harmon
A six-week Bible study built around stories from the memoir, shaped for groups of four to fifteen people meeting once a week for about ninety minutes. Each session pairs two lessons the streets teach: stopping with seeing, listening with trusting, waiting with going, giving with receiving, returning with suffering, and wonder with sending.
Available on Amazon in Kindle and paperback.