Years ago I flew to Minneapolis to give a speech at a conference at the Minneapolis Convention Center. Near downtown Minneapolis, my taxi was stopped at a red light four cars back from the crosswalk. I noticed a homeless man lurching between the cars in the middle of the street. When he got to the front of my taxi, he fell and landed on his chin--I could hear the thud. His chin split open, and there was blood all over the place.

I got out and looked over the top of the door at this man six feet away, and these thoughts went through my head:

1. I have a brand new suit on that Gail just bought me. I can't afford to get it messed up.
2. I have to get to the Minneapolis Convention Center to speak in 15 minutes.
3. I'm in a strange city, and I don't know what to do.
4. I don't have any medical training. I wouldn't know how to help this guy.

I wonder if underneath there wasn't a fifth thought: If you're dumb enough to get yourself that drunk, why should busy people stop and help you?

I'm ashamed of this. I can't believe a Bible-believing Christian could find those thoughts in the filing cabinets of his soul. For a few seconds those thoughts militated against any movement on my part. Before I could come to better senses, other people came rushing to this man's help, and I was able to get back into my taxi and go on to the convention center to speak about sensitivity and caring for the needs of other human beings. Isn't that stupid?