Monday, September 19, 2011

Crumbs from the Table

It's happened a lot in the past few months: people coming to the church door, hat in hand, asking for help. Sometimes it's shelter to escape an abusive spouse. Sometimes they need money to have the utilities restored. At other times it's a request for food vouchers for the grocery store or perhaps just a few dollars' worth of gas to get them back on their way.
We help them whenever we can and we try to give at least something to everyone. Sometimes they seem truly grateful while at other times they're upset that there isn't more.
Sadly what they never seem to understand is that what they ask for is the least valuable thing we can offer them.
They come looking for enough to help them scrape through another day when Jesus the Christ wants to shower them with blessings for a lifetime.
They want to fill their stomachs with the bread that will leave them just as hungry tomorrow while they pass by a full plate of the Bread of Life.
They come to scrounge for the crumbs that fall from the Master's table and refuse the invitation to the feast of paradise.
They arrive – and leave – full of misery and hopelessness when the church lives to share the joy and hope of redeeming love.
They cling to filthy rags of independence when God longs to clothe them with robes of righteousness.
Days like today I cry for them and wonder why it is that so many refuse the gracious hospitality of God's love. Then I am reminded that God cries over them daily and always has and I leave them to the One who cares for them more than I ever can.

God of mercy and hope, help me love them the way you do. Help me serve them in your name. Amen.

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

Walk, Drag or Carry?

Last week, Max, one of my dogs went to the vet to have a growth removed from his foot.  He came home the same day and the next day he seemed not to want to walk anywhere - and who could blame him?  So I left him at home and walked the other two days without him.

The second day, Max seemed much better.  He seemed anxious to go out for his morning walk but before we had gone 100 yds., he sat down and refused to go further. 

Obviously, I had a decision to make: 1) I could insist we finish our walk and drag him along hoping he might change his mind or that his foot would stop hurting; 2)  I could pick him up and return home with the other two dogs and none of us would get our morning walk; 3) I could pick him up and carry him the half mile or more that our morning walk usually takes us.

I picked him up and we went on our way.  Max got his fresh air and a look at the neighborhood sights from a new angle while the other two dogs and I got our usual walk in.

I've read that 'footprints in the sand' thing a number of times and it always seems too 'cutsey' yet there on that morning was an example of just that kind of love. 

That morning Max was feeling somewhat better and was trying to make it on his own in spite of his injured foot.  He doesn't know how to ask for help but I confess that too often I don't ask for help either.  When we're hurt, our first thought (like Max) is to stop in our tracks or go back somewhere safe.

Or perhaps it seems that God is dragging us forward into a world we want no part of - a world that hurts too much - when we'd rather just give up and go back.

Or - we might let God carry us for a while.  We'd move forward with a new perspective and a helping hand and God would show us the path.

Maybe I'll reread that 'footsteps in the sand' thing again...

Lord, help me learn to trust you enough to let you carry me when I'm weak.  Amen