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.
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