Steve

Some people walk into your life for a season.

Others leave footprints on your soul forever.

Steve Crosby was one of those people.

I haven’t seen Steve in years, but I think about him often.

Steve attended New Venture Church, where my good friend Pastor Pete faithfully taught God’s Word. Steve had been homeless for many years. From what everyone shared, that was simply the life he chose. It was familiar to him, and despite opportunities to live differently, he seemed content where he was.

Every Tuesday morning, a group of us gathered at 6:30 for a men’s Bible study in University Heights.

Whenever Steve showed up, the room changed.

He knew the Scriptures from Genesis to Revelation. Verse after verse would flow from his heart. Sometimes it wasn’t easy to follow exactly where he was going, but no one questioned his love for Jesus. His passion was contagious. You simply couldn’t get enough of Steve.

There would be stretches where we wouldn’t see him for weeks or even months. I’d ask Pete or Mark if they’d heard from him.

“Oh yeah,” they’d say. “He was at church last Sunday. Sat in the back.” Or, “I saw him downtown a few days ago.”

And then one day, something happened that has stayed with me ever since.

As I was getting ready to drive away after Bible study, Steve knocked on my car window.

“Andy,” he said, “I want to give you something.”

He reached into his pocket and handed me a twenty-dollar money order.

It wasn’t much by the world’s standards.

But I knew what it represented.

It was likely all he had.

He wanted it to go toward the ministry so more men could be prayed over, more men could hear about Jesus, more men could be fed, encouraged, and loved.

I couldn’t bring myself to cash it.

I still have that money order today.

Every time I see it, I don’t see twenty dollars.

I see the widow whom Jesus watched quietly approach the temple treasury.

While others gave out of their abundance, she gave two small coins—everything she had.

Jesus wasn’t impressed by the amount.

He was moved by her heart.

Steve taught me that same lesson.

The world often measures generosity by how much is given.

Jesus measures it by how much love is behind the gift.

Steve had very little.

But somehow, he possessed an abundance that many wealthy people never discover.

He was rich in faith.

Rich in Scripture.

Rich in compassion.

Rich in generosity.

Rich in Jesus.

Over the years, I’ve met people from every walk of life—business owners, professional athletes, CEOs, pastors, doctors, and men and women who have accomplished extraordinary things.

Yet one of the greatest teachers God ever placed in my life was a homeless man named Steve.

He reminded me that the Kingdom of God turns our values upside down.

The first are often last.

The last are often first.

The poor become rich.

The weak become strong.

And those who seem to have nothing often possess everything that truly matters.

I don’t know who the “Steve” is in your life.

Maybe it’s someone living on the street.

Maybe it’s a lonely widow.

Maybe it’s the quiet man who sits in the back row at church.

Maybe it’s the person everyone else walks past without noticing.

Don’t miss them.

Sit down.

Listen to their story.

Buy them a sandwich.

Pray with them.

You may think you’re there to bless them.

But don’t be surprised if God uses them to change you instead.

Steve certainly changed me.

His twenty-dollar money order is still tucked safely away after all these years—not because of its monetary value, but because every time I see it, I’m reminded of what Jesus said:

“It is more blessed to give than to receive.” (Acts 20:35)

And I’m reminded of something else.

The greatest wealth a person can possess isn’t found in a bank account.

It’s Christ living within them.

“Greater is He who is in you than he who is in the world.” (1 John 4:4)

Steve was full of Jesus.

He was full of His love.

He was full of His joy.

He was full of serving others.

And because of that, he left me—and so many others—far richer than he could have ever imagined.