The weather had turned on us like an angry toddler, the icy winds a startling surprise as we crossed the parking lot that morning. But we were soon warm and comfortable, seated in the soaring lobby of a beautiful church building. The secretaries were bustling about, answering phones and printing stacks of bulletins, and one of several pastors of the flock was making small talk as he headed into the fellowship hall for a meeting. The hall’s squawking mics were turned to blast, so even from our lobby seats, we could clearly hear the topic being announced. “Today, we are focusing on our community and how we can help one another,” the voice reverberated. “Let’s enjoy some coffee and get our name tags on, and the pastor will join us soon.”
The foyer doors whooshed open, bringing in not only the wind but a new arrival. The weary man was layered with jackets and bore a large backpack. It was clear that he had been in the cold for hours with no warm place to rest. He quietly stepped up to a secretary and asked to see a pastor, by name. He was told that the pastor was busy with the fellowship hall gatherers, so the man asked for another person, by name. That person was also busy. The gentleman reassured the secretary that he only needed a few minutes of time and that he had an emergency, and the secretary asked him to take a seat.
Minutes passed as she made a few calls. All the while, the community-helpers continued their meeting, unaware that their actual community was waiting in the lobby.
The ending of this story is one you could probably write: The man was told to come back Monday, when the pastor had time. He thanked the secretary, picked up his heavy bag, and left. As he did so, the very busy pastor began his fellowship hall exhortation, his words bouncing off whitewashed walls, reminding his hearers to care for those outside the church, to help those in need.
His words never reached that man. His helpers never helped the person in need, right in front of them. They were too busy discussing and planning how they would help.
That church isn’t the only one missing the point. Just down the road from this building, the local city government has put up a sign instructing drivers not to encourage those waiting in the median, holding signs and asking for help, by giving them money. But the truth is, a greater commandment tells me differently. It tells me to love, to give, to care for those in need. It never tells me to ask someone if they will be careful with the aid I give them. It never tells me to ask for receipts.
Over and over again, it does tell me to never consider myself better than another. It tells me to treat a person like a person, not a project with a particular goal in mind.
It tells me that I am in just as much deep need as that man. Perhaps I cover it up with cute shoes and a Starbucks coffee, but those are just the trappings that hide the truth. We all need help. We all have emergencies. We all are in need of love that doesn’t instruct or question or examine. Love that gives freely. Love that doesn’t wait until we’ve climbed out of the pit to help us but, instead, stretches out a hand to help pull us to the light above. I have been the undeserving recipient of that kind of love, and I will be again. Maybe, someday, so will you. But all of us can be that for someone else right now.
Without an agenda. With only love attached instead of strings. Remembering that our community is never really that far away.
