Steps of Faith

I've watched him Sunday after Sunday.  He slips in, always in the same seat; always wearing the same clothes, no matter the season.   I don't know his name, but I watch him praise our Father, so I call him brother.  He doesn't look like the others in the room.  He savors the free coffee a little more than the rest, which caused me to wonder his story, his plight.

A few weeks ago I learned that he is homeless.
I don't know the circumstances, but I do know that he is faithful to worship each week.

This past Sunday, I was brought to tears when I happened to see him pull out his wallet.  As the offering plate passed by, he dropped in a few dollars.
A homeless man, offering himself.
He doesn't have a home, yet he offers the Lord a true sacrifice.
A man who worships in a church with a soundboard that costs more than my home is willing to be faithful and know that his giving is a step of faith, an act of obedience... regardless the amount.
His couple of dollars was most likely more of a sacrifice than most of the crisp twenties that landed in the plate.  The widow's mite.

As I pondered his obedience, I had to reflect upon my own soul.
How much of a step of faith am I willing to take?