This past weekend, I discovered that I am indeed called to more.
Here’s the background:
Well, there was some background…a lot of it. For the sake of length, I will refrain. Basically, I have been battling my own pride and selfishness in the realm of sacrifice, living as I truly long to live. I’ve been passing people by when I’ve had the urge to do or say something. For fear of physical provision, fear of nothing happening when I pray, I’ve nearly given up.
Here’s a recent little story:
On Sunday, I stopped at McPherson Square on the way home from church for some watercolor supplies. My artist grandmother would be so proud. My phone was beyond dead (if this is possible), so I bit the bullet and stepped into Cosi for some hot chocolate and a little surge of battery. I headed up the stairs to the balcony where I opened my Bible to my last stopping point in 1 Samuel. I was grappling still. The combination of my reeling mind and forgotten journal was making me insane.
So on the back of my receipt I wrote, “I need closure. I feel like I should have answers, but I don’t.” I was thinking, “Where has my faith gone?”
Gazing unswervingly out the window, watching the snow fall slowly, people stroll across the intersection.
A short, balding, white-haired, wrinkled man trudged up the stairs with a large sack and a rolling suitcase. Undoubtedly, he was homeless. I watched as he pulled out four excessively dirty plastic cups from his sack, setting them on the table. He had some sort of powder. I was confused and curious. Drugs? Kool Aid? Emergen-C? Regardless, I couldn’t just watch. Without thinking, I closed my Bible, walked up to the man, and asked if he’d like some soup or a sandwich. Grinning large, he replied, “I like chicken.” “Perfect,” I said.
I went down to the counter and ordered some sort of panini combo meal. When I extended my credit card to the cashier, he shook his head and said, “you’re good.” I was nearly knocked over. Had he seen me talking to the man? Did he know what I was doing? I questioned, but only for a brief moment. Whatever his reason, I knew why the meal was covered. I thanked him genuinely. Amazement, gratefulness, wonder consumed my thoughts. I felt His presence rest upon me. “I will take care of you as you care for my children.”
When I placed the tray on the man’s table, he didnt say much. Another wide smile and a nodding of his head was the extent. I think he had finished his powders. Whatever the case, I truly praise the Lord for sending him my way.
The thoughts were still reeling, only now, I had a piece of that clarity that I so longed for. I left the cafe, feeling small against the colossal buildings, but feeling dearly loved, knowing that my Dad had my back in there. I was restraining tears as I looked upon each person I passed…His kids.
The best way I can explain it is this…
Some may call this scenario coincidence. It could happen to anyone. Anyone can buy a homeless person a meal. Any cashier can wave the fee. But everything was aptly orchestrated to show me some things. Why then would God not want me to do these sorts of acts, live in this mindset all of the time? The events of Sunday afternoon were all I needed to convince me of this.
Brothers and sister, we MUST live in such a way in which we act on our faith. Do we not see the ultimate example of Jesus? Is this not the Gospel? We have to “do” this justice because then, “[our] light will rise in the darkness, then [our] night will become like the noonday (Isaiah 58:10).
Talking, thinking . . .it’s what I’ve been doing.
We can’t always linger until it “feels” right or until we get our lives in “order.” Yes, God might urge us against something in particular, but we must be willing no matter the cost.
The costs of time, money, human humiliation are to be relinquished.
You and I are both called to more.
He will make His face known to those we love…and ourselves.