I am not ashamed to use personal stories in sermons that show my own need for grace, and hopefully to help others see their own. And so for my sermon this morning on Matthew 25, the sheep and the goats, I used a story from this past week in which I silently judged a person in need and drove off without helping him - ironically on my way to lead a Bible study on this very passage from Matthew in which Jesus tells us, "I was hungry and you gave me something to eat... as you did to the least of these, you did it to me," and more profoundly in this case, "As you did NOT do it to the least of these, you did not do it to me."
I see such people in need nearly every day, and the fact is I can't help every one of them, but this particular one really stuck with me. What a hypocrite I was, to stand up in that pulpit and tell people to see Christ in their neighbor, to help people in need because that is where you will see Christ... and then to drive off and not do the same. It's no surprise that my sermon was a little heavy on law and little light on grace today - I guess I hadn't really found grace for myself yet.
On my way home, I kept thinking about my own words: "If you have not seen Christ in 'the least of these' whom you encounter, is it possible it is because you haven't really tried?" As I got off at Carter Street, as I usually do, of course there was a man there with a sign, asking for help. "Here's your chance, Jo," I said. "Practice what you preach." I watched as someone else handed him something, and he was grateful. But soon enough, the light changed, and I had done nothing.
I was hungry and exhausted and wanted to go home, but I guessed he was much hungrier and more exhausted than I was, and didn't have a home to go to. What should I do? Should I swing into Walmart and get a gift card for him and go back? Maybe just grab him a bowl of soup at Wegmans? A banana? And then I was home, and had done nothing.
But it wasn't too late - I went inside and made a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, filled a baggie with carrots, grabbed the rest of a bag of pumpkin seeds, a bag of chips and a ginger ale, and got back in the car. I parked near the corner he was at, and got out of the car.
Is this stupid? I thought. A single woman, a man I don't know... I figured on a busy street corner, nothing too bad could happen. I left my purse in the car just to be safe, and grabbed an umbrella, which could double as a stick if needed. And as I walked toward the corner, I prayed, "God, please keep me safe. Come with me."
The man was beyond grateful for the lunch. He thanked me profusely and repeatedly. I said, "I saw you here, and didn't want to give you cheap food from Walmart, so I went home and made something nice. I'm glad you were still here." I asked him how he had gotten to this point, and he shared his story with me. The gist was that his girlfriend of 12 years had kicked him out, and he was trying to find work, and hoped he could get a job instead of apply for social services. He didn't want to just get lost in the system. He'd had some luck with daily work, but nothing permanent yet, though he had applied to one about which he was hopeful. I confessed that I am a pastor and had preached on Matthew 25 this morning, and wanted to practice what I preached, so when I saw him, I wanted to help. He knew the passage - in fact, he was a Christian, and cited several of his favorite verses, including from Proverbs 3:5-6: "Trust in the Lord with all your heart and do not rely on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him and he will make your paths straight." He said his name is Michael, and asked if I would pray for strength for him. I said of course I would. He thanked me again for the food and said he was going to eat it right now. I said, "I meant to put a chocolate bar in there for you, but I forgot." He feigned dismay. I thanked him for not being a weirdo. He said, "Nah, I'm not a weirdo. A bit strange sometimes, but not a weirdo." I said, "Well, Matthew 25 says to welcome the stranger, so even being strange is okay with me." We laughed and bid farewell.
As I walked down the sidewalk, he spoke to me again. "You know, I sometimes think in the Bible, 'What if Joseph hadn't done that? Or what if Moses hadn't done that?' I just think, you know, everything happens the way it does for a reason." I agreed. Again we bid farewell and parted ways. As I waited for the light to change so I could cross, he said from several feet behind me, as if to himself but loud enough for me to hear, "Man, what kind of Christian doesn't include chocolate..." I turned around and laughed out loud, and apologized again. He grinned and waved, and thanked me again. I had half a mind to go buy him some chocolate and come back to give it to him. But by the time I got to my car and came back through the intersection, he was gone.
Did I see Christ in that young man? I did. It was in the opportunity and ability to serve, of course, but it was elsewhere, too. I had been kicking myself all week for my selfishness, and as I mentioned, I think that resulted in a lack of grace in my sermon today. But in that brief encounter, I experienced God's grace. It was in the opportunity to serve placed before me again, a second chance. It was in the reflection this has inspired in me today and all week - I have thought and prayed about this a lot more as a result of first falling short. It was in the laughter we shared. It was in the knowledge that God loves me too much to let me fall short every time, and that when I'm ready to come around, Christ will be there, too.
I helped a man named Michael today. I gave him food, and I connected with his spirit, which I hope gives his more lasting sustenance than PB&J. But more than that, he helped me to see the face of Christ. Thank you, Michael, and thank God for you.
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