SermonStudio
To Any In Need
Stories
56 Stories For Preaching
White Boy shuffled down the street. His run-over loafers
slapped on the pavement with every step. His breath made thin
white streamers, and his hands, stuffed in his pockets, were
purple with cold. Hunger gnawed at him, and there was a rawness
in his throat that he knew was getting worse. He needed a bowl of
soup. And a place to sleep.
White Boy didn't look around him as he walked. He tried to
look like a man, with someplace he was in a hurry to get to. To
look aimless was to attract attention, and attention meant
slapped on the pavement with every step. His breath made thin
white streamers, and his hands, stuffed in his pockets, were
purple with cold. Hunger gnawed at him, and there was a rawness
in his throat that he knew was getting worse. He needed a bowl of
soup. And a place to sleep.
White Boy didn't look around him as he walked. He tried to
look like a man, with someplace he was in a hurry to get to. To
look aimless was to attract attention, and attention meant
