service
"When he finally arrives, blazing in beauty and all his angels with him, the Son of Man will take his place on his glorious throne. Then all the nations will be arranged before him and he will sort the people out, much as a shepherd sorts out sheep and goats, putting sheep to his right and goats to his left.
"Then the King will say to those on his right, 'Enter, you who are blessed by my Father! Take what's coming to you in this kingdom. It's been ready for you since the world's foundation. And here's why:
I was hungry and you fed me,
I was thirsty and you gave me a drink,
I was homeless and you gave me a room,
I was shivering and you gave me clothes,
I was sick and you stopped to visit,
I was in prison and you came to me.'
"Then those 'sheep' are going to say, 'Master, what are you talking about? When did we ever see you hungry and feed you, thirsty and give you a drink? And when did we ever see you sick or in prison and come to you?' Then the King will say, 'I'm telling the solemn truth: Whenever you did one of these things to someone overlooked or ignored, that was me—you did it to me.'
"Then he will turn to the 'goats,' the ones on his left, and say, 'Get out, worthless goats! You're good for nothing but the fires of hell. And why? Because—
I was hungry and you gave me no meal,
I was thirsty and you gave me no drink,
I was homeless and you gave me no bed,
I was shivering and you gave me no clothes,
Sick and in prison, and you never visited.'
"Then those 'goats' are going to say, 'Master, what are you talking about? When did we ever see you hungry or thirsty or homeless or shivering or sick or in prison and didn't help?'
"He will answer them, 'I'm telling the solemn truth: Whenever you failed to do one of these things to someone who was being overlooked or ignored, that was me—you failed to do it to me.'
"Then those 'goats' will be herded to their eternal doom, but the 'sheep' to their eternal reward."
—Matthew 25:31-46
I believe Jesus’ message in this passage to be a simple one: serve others. Help the helpless. Take care of the ones who cannot take care of themselves.
I do not interpret this message as a call to our government or even as a call to the church. I believe Jesus is calling the individual to serve. After all, he plans to hold individuals accountable. The parable clearly states that he will separate individuals based on their individual actions. In other words, attending a service-minded church or dutifully paying your taxes (and thereby funding welfare programs) is not enough. You have to be nice to people, too. You have to care and serve and give, especially to those who are in real need of help.
This passage has been on my heart for a while now, kind of haunting me. I think about Jesus separating people based on their service and I ask myself how many I’ve clothed or fed. Not many. Not enough.
And here’s the thing—I don’t think Jesus spoke this parable because he wanted a clever writer to come along 2000 years later and role out a church model that advocates a balanced approach to dealing with hunger, homelessness, neediness, sickness and imprisonment. I don’t think the story is about a checklist. I think the story is about a heart condition rooted in an understanding that people are, well, people, and that we should care about them.
When I pass a homeless person, for example, it should break my heart. I should think about how they are someone’s son, someone’s brother and I should imagine how I would feel if it were my brother out there on the street and what I would do to help him. I should feel genuine compassion and that compassion should prompt action. And, yeah, that action could be a prayer. But if “you come upon an old friend dressed in rags and half-starved and say, ‘Good morning, friend! Be clothed in Christ! Be filled with the Holy Spirit!’ and walk off without providing so much as a coat or a cup of soup—where does that get you? Isn't it obvious that God-talk without God-acts is outrageous nonsense?” (James 2:16-17).
I’m tired of saying I care and acting like I don’t—and yet, the very expression of that thought provokes fear in me. To say such a thing obligates me to action, and action scares me. I mean, what does it look like to drive past a homeless person and actually care? Am I going to have to start talking to these people? Giving them food? Eating with them? Imagine the time commitment if I respond every time I see someone in need.
And then I consider what Jesus has said. To refuse help to anyone in need is to refuse help to him. Could I drive past Jesus without a thought? And if I cared about Jesus standing there, needing my help, would my caring prompt action?
You can dodge the reality all you want—God knows I’ve avoided it for a long time—but my willingness to serve others is a clear indication of my love for Jesus. I can say I love him but it is my heart, proven by my actions, that speaks the truth.
I do not interpret this message as a call to our government or even as a call to the church. I believe Jesus is calling the individual to serve. After all, he plans to hold individuals accountable. The parable clearly states that he will separate individuals based on their individual actions. In other words, attending a service-minded church or dutifully paying your taxes (and thereby funding welfare programs) is not enough. You have to be nice to people, too. You have to care and serve and give, especially to those who are in real need of help.
This passage has been on my heart for a while now, kind of haunting me. I think about Jesus separating people based on their service and I ask myself how many I’ve clothed or fed. Not many. Not enough.
And here’s the thing—I don’t think Jesus spoke this parable because he wanted a clever writer to come along 2000 years later and role out a church model that advocates a balanced approach to dealing with hunger, homelessness, neediness, sickness and imprisonment. I don’t think the story is about a checklist. I think the story is about a heart condition rooted in an understanding that people are, well, people, and that we should care about them.
When I pass a homeless person, for example, it should break my heart. I should think about how they are someone’s son, someone’s brother and I should imagine how I would feel if it were my brother out there on the street and what I would do to help him. I should feel genuine compassion and that compassion should prompt action. And, yeah, that action could be a prayer. But if “you come upon an old friend dressed in rags and half-starved and say, ‘Good morning, friend! Be clothed in Christ! Be filled with the Holy Spirit!’ and walk off without providing so much as a coat or a cup of soup—where does that get you? Isn't it obvious that God-talk without God-acts is outrageous nonsense?” (James 2:16-17).
I’m tired of saying I care and acting like I don’t—and yet, the very expression of that thought provokes fear in me. To say such a thing obligates me to action, and action scares me. I mean, what does it look like to drive past a homeless person and actually care? Am I going to have to start talking to these people? Giving them food? Eating with them? Imagine the time commitment if I respond every time I see someone in need.
And then I consider what Jesus has said. To refuse help to anyone in need is to refuse help to him. Could I drive past Jesus without a thought? And if I cared about Jesus standing there, needing my help, would my caring prompt action?
You can dodge the reality all you want—God knows I’ve avoided it for a long time—but my willingness to serve others is a clear indication of my love for Jesus. I can say I love him but it is my heart, proven by my actions, that speaks the truth.
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