The other night, I was in Atlanta, GA to watch some wrestling.  While I was there, I came across some people who had my stereotypical wheels spinning.

One of these people was a street preacher.  Technically, I guess he was a parking lot preacher, but you get the drift.  He was across from Centennial Park, and I caught what I believe to be the end of his message.  He presented the Gospel and was telling any listening ear what they could do in order to not go to Hell.

I also came across a couple of people in the city with plastic cups in their hands looking for spare change.  Just change.  No big speech or build up. 

In both of these instances, I assumed the worst.  What were the endgames of the preacher and the other men?  Was one motivated by condemnation and the others by a need for a fix?  Those were the judgments I rushed to.

What if . . . [read more at http://www.mattamesblogs.com/]