Do Something!

It’s like one of those dreams where your child is about to be run over by a truck and you desperately want to reach her in time… but your feet are leaden and you seem to run in place. Where the car is careening toward the cliff and you cannot find the brake. Where your spouse is entering mortal danger, oblivious, and you scream out a warning… but no sound issues forth.

Anguished – but powerless to respond. Isn’t that how many of us feel when we think about situations like Haiti? We are grieved for that country, frustrated by the many hindrances to aid, and perplexed by Haiti’s history of victimization and betrayal and self-inflicted injury.

It’s often the same, on a smaller scale, with the poor among us - the poor who “will always be with us,” as Jesus said. We’re paralyzed by our inability to effectively fix things for them and the knowledge that poverty is, in general, here to stay. It’s tempting to turn to situations we can solve. To endeavors that look productive, that will really shine before men and elicit an enthusiastic “Well done!” when we stand before Christ. For if we can’t heal a nation or even wipe out poverty in our local community – if the Lord Himself promises the poor are here to stay – why spend our energies and prayers and money on them?

Because God cares about individuals. When Jesus lived on this earth, He personally touched a relatively small number of people. There were certainly famines and weather-related tragedies and struggling countries beyond the realm of His circuit. But He ministered to His neighbor and did what God directed Him to do on a day-by-day basis, and made a difference where He was.

That’s what we need to do.

The story is told of a man who was standing on the beach amid hundreds of starfish that had washed ashore. He was throwing them back in the water one by one. Someone approached and asked “Why bother? What does it matter? There are so many.” The man looked at the starfish in his hand. Just before he tossed it back he replied, “It matters a lot to this one!”

And it matters a lot to God. So look prayerfully around for someone in need and do something… today.

The Real Thing

It was a feast for the eyes and the taste buds, too. I just couldn’t hurry past without pausing for a second glance. Bins of luscious fruits – peaches, apples, bananas, pears, and many more… and not an unripe piece in the bunch. The peaches blushed, the apples shone, the grapes fairly burst their skins, and even the closest inspection couldn’t turn up one bruise or scab or worm hole. This was fruit-lover’s heaven!

If looks were edible, that is. For this was Michael’s, the arts and crafts store, and these bins were piled high with inviting imitation. While there was nothing here that could wither or rot, there was also no scent, no sweetness, and no nourishment, not one drop.

Give me a succulent peach fresh-picked from a North East orchard, fuzzy and aromatic and yielding slightly to the pressure of my finger. Or give me one of their McIntosh apples (what is it about North East and fruit?), with a smell that says autumn and a flavor that can only be improved by a bit of caramel dip…

Give me something real, that delights the taste buds and satisfies the stomach. Hold off on the hollow stuff, the plastic stuff, the look-but-don’t-sample substitutes. I don’t want those imposters rolling around on my plate – and I don’t want to serve them to others, either.

Dr. Aderholt challenged us Sunday to be real with people. To stop offering plastic smiles (shark-smiles, I think he would have called them) and quick fixes and surface attraction, and to become Christians of substance, filled with the juice of humble servanthood and the sweetness of compassion and the freshness of joy and the firmness of perseverance.

The Michael’s variety… the North East variety… if you were an unbeliever, which peach would you reach for?

Across My Path

There was once a man who heard a mini-sermon on compassion: “Love your neighbor as yourself.” He felt a little uncomfortable with that statement and he wanted to get rid of those pesky little barbs of conscience. So he asked the Preacher, “Who is my neighbor?” And the Preacher replied with the story of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10:30-35).

By definition, a “neighbor” is one who is near. The man who lay helpless along the Jericho road, robbed and beaten, became the Samaritan’s neighbor when their paths “crossed” and the Samaritan’s ears heard his moan and his eyes fell on him and saw his need.

Maybe the story of the Good Samaritan teaches, among other things, that first and foremost the people we need to love as our own selves and empathize with and reach out to and give to and sacrifice for are the people that personally cross our paths on our daily walk. These are, in the strictest sense, our neighbors. They’re our responsibility, as God leads us.

Why is it so tempting to mimic the Levite’s response and cross to the other side of the road – to get far enough away that they are no longer my neighbor? Three reasons come to mind:

I’m desensitized. I don’t feel their pain. I’ve watched enough pain on TV, I’ve said “No” enough times to my conscience, I’ve got priorities more pressing than compassion, I’m distracted by other concerns, I’m too focused on the past or the future to pay attention to who’s laying alongside my road.

I’m selfish. I don’t want to feel their pain. I’ve already felt enough of my own. I don’t want to feel any more myself, and I don’t want to share anyone else’s.

I’m passive. I don’t want to do anything about their pain. If you twist my arm or wring my conscience, I will act. Otherwise, I’m for doing what I’ve always done on this trip to Jericho – staying to the time schedule, sticking to the MO as usual, not getting involved in messy and open-ended situations.

I don’t mean to say that every need that crosses our path is a call to action. We must be Spirit-directed. Spirit-sensitized. Spirit-quickened. (I also don’t mean to say that we shouldn’t get involved in global needs – we should.) But if we begin each day with a declaration of love for and commitment to God and our neighbor, we’ll be more sensitized to both of them. And as we walk through the territory God has mapped out for us that day, the priest and the Levite and the man in the ditch will all know that we are Christians… by our love.

Election Benediction

As I head out the door in a few minutes and make my way to the Summit Township Municipal Building to vote, I’m keeping in mind the principles from Sunday morning’s sermon. I’m not voting my pocketbook or my party or my personal preferences; I’m voting, prayerfully and as best I understand, after God’s heart – after the things that matter most to Him.

But after I exit the polling place, I want to turn from the sermon to the brief but weighty benediction offered by Pastor Dave following the first service:

“In God we trust. Amen.”

How hard that sometimes is! Especially in these days when the economy is unraveling and the stock market is ricocheting about and the scaffolding we have erected for the future begins to wobble, until the economy has become the biggest issue in this presidential election. In truth, it’s likely to remain a major issue for some time. That’s why Sunday’s benediction will remain so relevant to our situation, and so vital to remember.

Thankfully, our wise forefathers had “In God We Trust” inscribed on our country’s pennies and nickels and dimes and quarters and bills. Maybe they realized we would need it on the currency in which we instinctively place so much of our hope and sense of well-being. Silently, unceasingly, our coins and greenbacks proclaim that wonderful benediction… we just need to listen to it a little more closely. To agree with it a bit more frequently. To accept the reminder and let it increase our faith.

Perhaps it would help us to inwardly repeat those words when paying the parking lot attendant at the hospital ramp, or swiping our card at the supermarket, or putting money into the church offering. Maybe we should have those words imprinted on our checks and posted prominently at the desk where we pay our bills and balance our checkbooks.

However we do it, let’s not forget. In matters of elections and economics and all things earthly, our God is sovereign and all-powerful and He watches over His own. And should you ever waver in your trust, take out a penny and once more receive the benediction:

“In God We Trust. Amen.”