by Pam Kumpe
Most of you know by now that I love the homeless and love street ministry. Most of you don’t
know that the man you read about who died across the street from the Salvation Army on
Saturday evening was a friend of mine.
When I heard, I was undone, because I feel horrible, like I failed him spiritually—not sure, not
knowing, if my friend, Josh, was saved. If he was a follower of Christ.
Sure, last week, I watched two homeless friends drag cardboard boxes down the street like they
were carrying paneling fit for a king. Their smiles had welcomed me to their unshapen
cardboard-castle-world.
I happened to have a couple of bedding pads (plastic ones made out of hundreds of little white