Last week I went to Las Vegas for a work trip. It's a crazy, crazy place. It's a place of contradictions. They want you to think that its a great place to bring your family on vacation. They offer beautiful hotels and excellent food and experiences for all ages. But when you walk down the street, men try to hand out cards for strippers and prostitutes and of course the casinos are never-ending. The people who work at the hotels are so nice and helpful. They even give you directions on how to steer away from the seediness. I have to admit, I had a great time there. Maybe it was because our hotel was having a Star Trek convention and I got to see Leonard Nimoy in person. Maybe it was because our hotel staff spoiled us. Wouldn't you like it if someone brought you a free latte every morning?
But on to my story. The last evening I was there, I was out on my own. The monorail system in Vegas makes it very easy to go out on your own. I was exploring the shops at Caesar's Palace looking for some trinkets to take home. Shopping in Vegas is not for the poor that's for sure. Hugo Boss, Escada, Dolce and Gabana, Burberry. Everything is high end and name brand. Honestly, I am not sure how they make it. The sun was going down as I was crossing a bridge from Caesar's Palace to the Bellagio. The sign ahead of me said Gucci. There were streams and streams of people making their way from one place to another. Most didn't even notice the sunset over the mountains to the west. Some took note of the fifty-something black man playing the guitar and singing. I don't remember what song it was, but I remember thinking he was pretty good to try that on an acoustic guitar. His voice was definitely worth all the money that filled his guitar case.
As I approached the doors to the Bellagio, a man sat Indian style with his head down and clear plastic cup in front of him. He looked at little dirty and very sad, the sign in his hand read "Help Me." I'm not sure half of the people even saw him or took note of him. I continued my way through the revolving door thinking how sad it was that the guy playing the music was getting attention but he wasn't and of the irony of the excess and the need. And then God spoke, "For you who know the good you ought to do and don't do it, to you that is sin." Ouch. At first I tried to ignore it, but it resonated in my head again. So I stepped out of the crowd, went into my wallet and pulled out a bill, I folded it up tiny and turned back to door. I almost didn't go through with it, "maybe he'll use it for drugs or booze or a prostitute," I thought. I hesitated. But pushed through the door to the outside. He was maybe 10 steps outside the door. I hurried over, dropped the 10 and scurried away like a scared little mouse. "Please don't let him follow me, " I thought. I looked back over my shoulder as I made it safely into the Bellagio. He was looking back at me with a look of amazement.
I don't tell you this story because I'm proud of what I did. In fact as I think back on it, I am ashamed that I didn't get down on the ground and talk with him. I guess I just wanted to remind you and to remind me that God does speak all the time, even in the worst of places. We just need to listen.
