Perspectives: Testimony DOULOS Testimonies: Real Stories. Real People.
George Miaoulis, Ph.D., Professor of Marketing at the University of Maine lines. I must help and when I do, I believe I’ll be all right. What is it, then, that stops me from this ministry? Why don’t I live my life as though I have lost everything? The simple and perhaps profound answer is fear. Fear of not being seen, noticed, acknowledged, and rewarded in my professional world. Yes, I believe the true rewards will come both here and here after, but I’m stuck. I am stuck to the house and the cars and the lifestyle. Stuck to the ego and the prestige of success. Stuck with the fear of not having enough. Oh Father, hear me call out. Help me to love them, and in so doing learn to love myself and to release myself from fear. It is amazing that all of this began on a business trip to Rhode Island. I was going 85 mph on the Maine Turnpike when a state trooper drove up behind me with his blue lights flashing. My first thought was, “I’m going to get a ticket.” As I pulled off to the right, he passed me probably going over 15 more than what I had been doing. Saved in that moment, I wondered where he was going so fast. I saw his parked car 10 minutes later. He was the state trooper standing a bit back from the homeless man – the one postured for action. Little did I know that the flashing blue lights in my rearview mirror were God calling. Perhaps He was saying, “There goes George speeding through life. Maybe George can help another man, and maybe, just maybe, they’ll both be all right.”
“Why don’t I live as though I have lost everything? The simple and perhaps profound answer is fear.”
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Engaging Culture from a Biblical Perspective
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“I’ll be all right.” His words still haunt me six months after I heard them. They were the only words I heard him speak. He was sitting, looking down at the pavement, a man about 50 years old – my age. His T-shirt did not cover this stomach. He was a large man, over six feet tall, with a short, bristly beard. His eyes were down, looking lost and sad, as though his soul had left his body. He spoke again – “I’ll be all right” – and once more I heard him say, “I’ll be all right.” I had been on my way to the men’s room at a rest stop in Kennebunk. This confused and apparently homeless man was sitting on a bench to the left of the entrance to the Burger King/restroom building. Sitting down, looking lost, he seemed dwarfed by the two uniformed state troopers standing near, one back a bit but looking ready for action. The closer of the troopers was explaining in a kind, but firm voice, “Sir, I think it will be better for you if we take you to...” at which point I heard him plead again, “I’ll be all right.” I continued up the steps, into the building and to the men’s room. Walking down the three steps toward my car, I saw the man and the troopers were gone. I walked back to my car with his words ringing in my ears. I began asking myself, who is this man? Does he have a family? Is he mentally ill? Why was I spared his fate? Where were the troopers taking him? Did he have someone who cared about him? How sad I felt, to see this man lost, confused, and empty, with the two troopers standing over him, and people – 20, 30, 40, probably more – walking past. Was I the only one who heard his words, “I’ll be all right”? Was I the only one to see and feel this indignity? Should I have tried to help? How could I have helped? I didn’t know. I have known for some years my calling is to help middleaged men in crisis. Homeless men, I think. What souls seem more lost than those of men without a home? I have never felt this calling more strongly than that day. I believe God was speaking to and for me. I must do more than stand on the side-
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