Today I’m going to tell you about two very special people: my parents.
My
parents aren’t the type who would cause you to immediately conjur up
trendy social justice pictures. They’re more covert in their care for
the least of these.
They like to take care of people. Particularly people in the fringes of society.
Exhibit
one: a teenage boy showed up at a local homeless shelter. I don’t
remember how, although my parents could tell you. Filled with
Christ-like compassion, they took him into their home and treated him
like their own son. There were frustrations, of course–there always
are in these situations–but my parents loved him through it until it
was time for him to move on.
You know, I debated telling you the end
of that story. I’d like to tell you that he is now an upstanding member
of society, on his way to being a pastor or congressman or something of
the like. After all, these are "Mentor" Mondays. They’re supposed to
encourage you to follow the examples of these people in caring for the
hurt, and wouldn’t it be easier to care for the hurt if you knew,
I mean absolutely knew that your efforts wouldn’t be in vain? But life
isn’t always Hollywood. Sometimes we labor in what feels like futile
effort. I’ll tell you what I know: God works your efforts for good in
your life, and we don’t always know the end of the story. In this case,
though my parents fought the ish in this boy’s life, he returned to
some yuckiness. Today, his life doesn’t look pretty. But it’s not the
end of his life, now is it? We don’t know how God’ll use my parents
demonstration of love someday.
Okay, enough of that. Moving on.
Exhibit
two: a young, single, pregnant woman showed up at their church. This
woman–a girl, really–has little, but has a desire to know God. My
parents show her God every week. She doesn’t have a car, so my mom
picks her up for church, though it’s out of the way, and drives her to
other places. They’ve helped get her situated. They’ve welcomed this
woman’s family.
I could share other exhibits, about how their church
has reached out through the youth group to the outcast teenagers. My
parents have been there for that. About how they’re involved with the
local homeless shelter. About the hospital visits they’ve made time
after time after time. About the times they brought home someone to
share our Thanksgiving meal so that no one would be alone.
Caring
for the hurt, for the orphans and widows and homeless starts in your
own community. It often means setting aside your own preferences. It
often doesn’t have some big pay-off, for our reward is in heaven. It’s
often messy, bringing people into your life. Sometimes you won’t like
it.
Enough preaching now. I’m convicting myself.