Jul 28 2019 Matthew 25: 31-46

Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry and gave you food, or thirsty and gave you something to drink? And when was it that we saw you a stranger and welcomed you, or naked and gave you clothing?

This has always been one of the most compelling draws for serving others. Jesus is telling this parable, about the king who sorts people into the righteous and unrighteous. To the righteous, he says that when he was hungry, they gave him food, a stranger and welcomed him, hungry and fed him, imprisoned and freed him, naked and clothed him. Their response was to question when they’d seen him hungry, thirsty, a stranger or naked. His response? When you do these things to the least in my family, you do it me. Alternately, to the unrighteous, he said that they’d seen him hungry, thirsty, a stranger and naked and they did nothing. They protest that they’ve never seen him like that, and he responds that when they saw people like that – hungry, stranger, thirsty, naked – and did not help, they did not help him.

I live in an urban area with plenty of people who are hungry, thirsty, needing clothes, imprisoned, and needing welcome. It is seemingly impossible to serve them all – every child of God on the street, every imprisoned brother and sister, every sick and lonely precious creation of God. I cannot do it all. But I can do something. To serve the least of Jesus’ family is to serve Jesus.

So what do I do, when I cannot do it all? When I cannot serve or feed or be kind?

Yesterday, we went out to dinner with my sick loved one. They were in a foul mood, or maybe just exhibiting how hard it must be for them. In either case it wasn’t a pleasant outing for me. By the end of the dinner, I responded in a less than gracious way. I wasn’t as welcoming or loving or caring as I’d started out, but they were still a loved child of God, and beloved by me.

It happens. Both with people I know, and strangers. Need exceeds my capacity to help. Either I say no intentionally, like when I pass the panhandler I don’t want to help at that moment, or unintentionally say no, like when I had no resilience at dinner last night. 

This morning, I’m thinking about what to do with the balance of need, or people in need, that exceeds my ability. The people at the border, and in prison. Hunger in this country and beyond. The frustrating people in my house. In all cases, I could fall in the category of the unrighteous. I saw Christ and didn’t feed or free.

I think, or I hope that intention matters. I hope that my well-intentioned efforts count. And I want to acknowledge that in these cases I am not serving Christ well. But perhaps I can do something. I can be respectful in my declining to give my spare change, acknowledging the Christ in that other person, even without my contribution. I can read about and support others who are feeding and freeing others. I can encourage those who are welcoming the stranger.

Today, I want to see Christ in the people I feed, clothe, free and welcome. More important, I want to see Christ in the people I cannot.