Grace for everyone.

Yesterday on my way back to the office, a homeless woman aproached my open driver's side window. She said she just needed a quarter to make bus fare. I have a little cubby hole on my dashboard next to the steering wheel where I keep loose change, so I reached in and gave her one. Then she said if I have her two quarters, she could get all the way home. I knew she was probably lying, had seen all the change I had and was taking advantage, but I gave it to her anyway. She started to walk away, then came back and reached into my car and grabbed a handful of change out of the cubby. I grabbed her hand. It was a reflex - if I'd been thinking I wouldn't have done it. She wasn't letting go, though, and after slamming my hand into the window she took off running, yelling at me to drive away and leave her alone. The whole thing really upset me. I rolled my windows up and drove away, and my eyes started welling up with tears. Why did she think she could just take my money, money that I had worked hard for? Why does she spend her days walking around asking for money? What is she so desperate for that she will steal from someone right in front of their face? What would she have done to me if I'd said no? I have always struggled with how to relate to homeless people and panhandlers. There are countless cheesy Christian songs about how that guy on the corner could be an angel, he just needs a friend, as you do to the least of these, etc. They're very dramatic and certainly succeed in making you feel bad about yourself. Then you hear about how there are guys who make $80K a year panhandling, and go home each day to a big house in the suburbs. What are we supposed to do? Avoid eye contact and mentally urge the light to change? Or roll down the window and put ourselves at risk? Ironically, this week I've been studying about God's grace. About how without it, we're all screwed, because we will never be good enough on our own. The best of the best of the best will never be able to do it for themselves. We are inately sinful and evil, and only by His grace can we even lift our heads every morning. I have every capability inside of me to be that woman on the street, stealing money out of people's cars. What makes me better than her? Why do I have a job and a house and a bed and a car with spare change inside that doesn't make a difference to my life? Why does she need those couple of dollars so badly she would steal for it? I don't have the answer. All I have is a sick feeling in my stomach thinking about what happened yesterday. What should I have done differently? What should my attitude be towards her? Will I be wrong to roll up my windows next time I approach a red light in a bad neighborhood? In Blue Like Jazz, Don Miller says he has a hard time accepting grace because he doesn't want to be charity. He wants to earn it, to do good things on earth for God, and in return God will give him His grace. Like they are buddies, doing favors for each other. I think I feel the same way sometimes. Sure, I need grace, but not like SHE does. God's grace is for everyone, and everyone needs it just as badly as everyone else. No one is above it.