"I can do anything better than you can, I can do anything better than you...." Remember that song? Know anybody who sounds like that? I sensed that kind of attitude last week when I read the comments of a bunch of people responding to a question about schools in the 60's. Most of the respondents seemed to think that schools were better back then. They were convinced that they got a better education that the children of today who no longer have to memorize times tables or recite the pledge of allegiance. I sensed this unspoken smugness in their words about whether they were better people because of it.
"Come on folks", I thought. "Let's stop sneering at the younger generation over the minute details of life. In the blink of an eye our lives are going to be over and none of that stuff is going to matter anymore. When we get up to heaven the Lord is not going to ask us if we can memorize the time tables or recite the pledge of allegiance. He is only going to be concerned about one thing: 'When I was hungry, you gave me to eat...'. That is going to be our final test - and the one that scares the hell out of me because it is going to be the hardest to pass!" Wow, that would make a great reflection! I planned to write something up about that, as soon as I had the time. However, the joke would be on me about how the story would end.
Sunday morning I was driving home from church. We had just heard a gospel and homily about the Parable of the Sower, and the four types of ground that his seed fell on. I headed for Redner's to pick up a few items. As I pulled into the lot, I saw a man standing next to the path of cars that were leaving the lot on the opposite side. The man was holding a sign that read, "Homeless. Willing to work for food." He was standing there with the sun beating down on him in the summer heat. "Oh no," I said to myself, knowing that a real-life, spiritual challenge was in the making - one I didn't feel like dealing with at the time. It wasn't that I didn't want to help, or couldn't afford to give him anything. There was just something about approaching strangers in that type of a situation that scared the hell out of me. I have no idea why. I really didn't think that he would try to hurt me. Somehow, I still felt myself wanting badly to run in the opposite direction as quickly as possible.
I went into the store and did some shopping, forgetting about the stranger on the corner. Later, when I started driving out of the lot, I saw him again. I think at that point I said something a little stronger than "Oh, no." There were three cars ahead of me and two behind me. I had to keep moving. There wasn't the time to stop and pull anything out of my purse without obstructing traffic. I got to the street and sat there looking for cars coming to the right and the left. At that point I had absolutely no excuse. My car was stopped for what felt like an eternity. I knew the man was standing there not far from me, but I couldn't even look at him. I felt so uncomfortable that I just wanted to get the hell out of there! Finally, there was a break in traffic and I was able to pull out into the street. The second I felt my wheels turn in the opposite direction from where the man was standing, the following words flashed across the screen in my mind: "Lord, when did we see you hungry and not feed you?" The answer was blatantly obvious! I started to drive up the street, doing a combination of swearing and praying. I was swearing because instead of enjoying a pleasant drive home I had to struggle with a heavy moral dilemma and I wasn't happy about it. I was praying for guidance and help, knowing that if I kept driving away it would violate everything that I believed in and stood for.
Still swearing, I stopped at a municipal parking lot about a quarter of a mile away. I pulled a twenty dollar bill out of my wallet. I then walked back to the trunk to pull a bottle of water out of the six pack that I had just purchased. A swarm of butterflies were mingling in my stomach as I suddenly realized that I was probably going to go back. I had to go back into the parking lot and circle around to get back to where the man was standing. Reaching through the open window on the passenger side, I handed him the money and the water. "Thank you," he said, adding, "God bless you!" I noticed then that someone on the other side of the lane was stopping as well.
I love writing and one of my favorite topics is what it means to be a Christian. The problem is that writing about it is a lot easier than living it. Writing about it without living it is like trying to nurture those seeds on rocky and thorny grounds. Being the good soil means doing what Jesus taught even when it is not easy, pleasant or convenient. It means doing what he taught even when it scares the hell out of us. It means being willing to do it not just once in a while but every single day, and that is incredibly difficult. The positive thing about it, though, is that when we find the courage to do it, it may become easier for others to follow.
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