Humble Steps, Eternal Reward—The Story of Steve Adams
Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints." —Psalms 116:15
Steve… where do I even begin? I’ll never forget the first time I saw Steve—sitting on a curb outside Starbucks, eating beans straight from a can. Our eyes met as I drove by, sipping my overpriced, overly indulgent coffee. At that moment, something stuck with me.
Immediate guilt consumed me as he looked as happy with his opened can as I was with the freshly made latte in my hand. I pulled over, and my son and I got out and introduced ourselves to Steve, shaking his hand and looking into the bluest eyes I had ever seen. I can’t explain the immediate connection we had, but from that moment forward, Steve was no longer a stranger but, indeed, my friend.
Since 2017, he has become one of the greatest influences on my path, and I will forever be changed because of him. The term witness doesn’t give him enough justice for how he served the Lord. Steve completely separated himself from reality to better hear His word, feel His love, and know His desire. He chose to live the life he did. According to Steve, God took care of him.
Through the years, I learned not to push Steve to have more than he did or to give himself more comfort than he allowed. He was living the life that he wanted and, more importantly, the life he said God wanted for him. I can’t imagine the harsh reality of living in the circumstances he did, not even for spiritual reasons. But Steve did it with a humble heart. He truly gave up every comfort of this world for solitude with God. Most importantly, Steve was a servant, and his walk forever changed the lives of my family.
Steve was the gentle soul you would see on Richmond Road picking up trash, putting buggies back where they go, and minding his own business. He never asked for a single thing, never panhandled, and would sometimes even turn down assistance.
Some just passed him by.
Some befriended him.
Some gave him money, food, or clothing.
Some even prayed with him.
Some were kind.
Some were worried.
Some judged.
Some were generous.
Some were curious.
Some were oblivious.
Some watched.
Some learned.
Steve never looked up to notice any of it. He marched forward, backpack on, head down, and always on a mission—to serve God.
Because he did, and because the Bible says that the meek shall inherit the Earth, on December 24th, my dear and treasured friend left his makeshift shelter he called home and moved into the most glorious mansion on a street of gold with the One he has relied on solely for decades. Steve Adams gained his wings, and I’m certain God said to him, “Well done, my good and faithful servant.”
Reflecting, it’s funny how, initially, I thought perhaps I would be someone who could help this stranger God brought into my life. I pondered how I might possibly provide him with shelter, clothing, food, and even witness to him. Now I know… I was the one receiving these gracious gifts from him.
At first, his hugs were timid because he’d likely not received one in a long time, but the shelter of his arms when we’d see one another turned into a refuge of solace from the busy walk of everyday life, and it taught me to slow down and appreciate the small things.
His words of reassurance when I’d worry out loud about his health, well-being, living conditions, comfort, and needs were steadfast and trusting. They embraced my soul like warm clothing on a winter’s day, reminding me to be anxious about nothing but to trust God.
His uplifting presence of positive energy, when, by all accounts, for someone walking through life in what we would call poverty, should have been the opposite, was food for thought. I witnessed him do without nourishment to ensure his furry friends ate before and better than himself. His actions of putting everyone, including animals, before himself reminded me to be selfless and to serve others.
The way his eyes beamed and that crooked little smile that appeared across his face as he spoke about his faith, his God, and his blessings were his testimony that I needed to hear. I was the one being taught. Not just putting it in my heart, but showing me how merciful God’s peace is, and we are not here to indulge. That happiness does not come from things. It comes from moments and the unconditional love of others—whether it be humans or animals, but most importantly, the unconditional love from our heavenly Father that none of us deserve but can claim because of the sacrifices made, not just for us but despite us.
Undoubtedly, our meeting was God’s plan, just as I suspected. But our vessels were merely disguised as to who was in need. You see, I WAS THE ONE WHO NEEDED SHELTER BECAUSE MY OWN WAS LEAKING. I WAS THE ONE WHO NEEDED TO BE CLOTHED IN A ROBE OF HUMILITY. I WAS THE ONE WHOSE HUNGER PAINS WERE DEBILITATING. I WAS WHO NEEDED TO HEAR HIS TESTIMONY BECAUSE MY OWN PALED IN COMPARISON.
So, Thank YOU, Steve, for giving me everything you did when you thought you had nothing to give. I will forever strive to carry everything you placed in my heart just as diligently as you did. Because of you, I will see the world through different eyes. I will never forget the words you shared, the example you showed, the love you showered, and the living testimony you were. I will treasure our memories and the lessons you taught when you did not even know you were teaching.
I saw you.
Texarkana and Richmond Road, the people whose lives you touched, your furry Forrest friends, and even those who never got to meet you at all, will hopefully NOW HAVE SEEN YOU TOO.
Fly high, my friend.
Much love and respect always.
Until we meet again.
In loving memory of Steve
