How Dare I?

There is something truly painful about feeling like you have developed a deadly disease in which people wish not to speak to you, nor look at you, nor acknowledge your existence. I can't say I know what a leper feels like, but I can say I know what it feels like to feel disowned. I know what it feels like to be treated like I don't exist. I know what it feels like to have people who you were once close to treat you as though you have never met, and they do not desire to speak to you or know you. Is this what a homeless person standing on the street corner feels like? Do they feel invisible to the world? Do they feel as though death is radiating from their skin, and everyone passing by is too afraid of catching death to even glance in their direction? Do they feel as though their voice is unheard when they speak out loud in a crowd of people?
I do not wish to say I know how someone else feels, but I wish to say I know similar feelings, if not quite to that degree. And I started out writing this blog to help release the feelings of hurt in my heart from all these emotions... and yet, here I am, realizing I have no right to complain. I have no right to feel sorry for myself. I am disgusted with myself even, for ever having treated someone in such ways as I have just described. My heart is broken for the many people I have walked by without a second glance as though they were not even there. I am ashamed of the many people standing on the corner asking for food that I came upon and chose to look the other way. What have I become? What have WE become? We are such a hateful, selfish world. My heart is broken because of the person I have been. How dare I stand before THE GOD who created everything and everyone and tell him I just didn't feel like giving away twenty dollars to someone who may not have had a warm meal that night, or a warm bed. How dare I ask God for more when I can't even share what He has already given me? How dare I ask God to mend my heart, when I can't even remember to ask Him to mend people's souls? How dare I ask God to help me to have a good day, when I haven't ask Him to use me to save a dying world? How dare I ask God to bless my food, when I am too greedy and stingy to share it with a hungry man living under the bridge?
My heart is broken for the things I done, or HAVEN'T done.... but I feel Christ stirring me to be better. I feel Him molding me to look more like Him. It is a painful, sad, and yet beautiful process. I pray that He never stops molding me into what He wants me to be.