How can we reach a world we never touch?

  "Blessed is the one who considers the poor! In the day of trouble the Lord delivers him; the Lord protects him and keeps him alive; he is called blessed in the land; you do not give him up to the will of his enemies." Psalm 41:1-2
  I've been thinking alot about the poor lately. I keep running into people as I go about my days the past while (don't worry, I don't mean literally), and I've seen for probably the first time the reality of the masses of people who have at the very least alot less than I am used to living with.  
  Last week I was on my way to teach sewing class, 45 minutes from home. As I was driving through the town of Honeybrook, a older lady crossed the street, right in front of my vehicle. At first I didn't notice her, in my hurry to get where I was going. But something made me look twice ...
  That lady was at least older than my Mom.  She was wearing obviously well-worn clothing. She was limping. No jacket, in spite of the cold weather. Carrying a large bag filled with what was evidently all the belongings she owned.  Her hair hung limply on her shoulders.  Her expression was blank.  She stumbled across the street and back behind a building. Nowhere to go; no one who cared.
  I went on my way, filled my tank with gas, got where I was going, and promptly forgot about the whole thing. Life is easy. I have what I need, and if I don't have it, I can go buy it. I have a job. I have a family. A home. Food with plenty to spare. Everything! And it's inevitable that I'm going to forget that there's anybody out there who has next to nothing of the joys I take for granted every day.

  I was in the city, doing what I do every week. Only, again, I ran into someone who was evidently destitute; what I carried in my purse would be riches to this dear lady. I see her weekly, making the same rounds: she walks across the street at a certain place, carries two large bags, and wears less-than-warm clothing even though the wind is blowing and it's icy cold.  I saw her last week, sleeping under the overhanging roof at the gas station.  It was raining, and I was shivering after standing outside for only a few minutes.  This lady is elderly ...

  I've been finding my heart burdened for people like the people I've described above. I've been asking myself alot of questions ... looking at Christ's example, how He humbled Himself.  Actually identified Himself with people that we'd, frankly, be disgusted by.  People who were waaaaay below His standard - in more ways than one. 

 Can I do that? I mean for real - can I identify with some of the people that I run into? The homeless person on the corner? That old lady who perpetually mutters to herself, has repetitive habits, and walks endlessly - what about her? Can I identify with her to such a extent that I would stoop to wash her feet like Jesus did?

  It's questions like that, that keep running through my mind.  I think God is trying to tell me something.  I want to have deep love and compassion for the poor around me - but I don't just want a emotional "I feel so sorry for them!" kind of a response.  I want something that's going to make me stop and reach out a hand of love to that dirty, homeless individual.  Something that goes beyond my natural reaction of withdrawing.

  I think of a article that I read recently, regarding alot of the same things.  He said a rather radical statement that I won't repeat here ... but he was trying to get the idea across about Jesus' incredible identification with us.  I mean, to become what we are - from the high and exalted place of God's right hand? That's incredible. That's divine.  And I think God is calling me to that same identification, that same humility, that same love that's not afraid to touch a world madly on it's way to eternal separation from Him.

    Anyway, that's some of what I've been thinking of the past while.  Maybe it makes some sense to you all too.  I've been challenged, and I'm looking to the Lord to show me ways that I can follow His example, as I interact with people in my everyday life.