The last, the least, the lost

Last night, Angels Ministry (a homeless ministry in our church) came and spoke about an outreach opportunity for our shepherding group. As we spoke with David and Mary Anne it was clear that they love serving in this way, because they have an opportunity "to be Jesus in skin and bones".

Mosaic is asking that every person in our group volunteer on April 20th. We are going to prepare, serve a meal and fellowship with the homeless on this night from 3-6pm. We discussed and answered questions about what this will be like, what to expect, what we need etc. Pray about where God is leading you to help serve.

Last night I remembered a portion of a book that we read previously in Mosaic. The excerpt below is found in "Dangerous Surrender" by Kay Warren.

The bottom line "proof" of our love for Jesus is a surprising measurement. It's not found in the ways we've typically used to evaluate our spiritual maturity. Proof of our love for Jesus is found not merely in attending church, reading the Bible, singing praise songs, being part of the choir, teaching a Sunday school class, or serving as an usher or an elder (although each of those activities is an important part of a growing spiritual life), but in loving and serving the sick, the poor, the weak, and the marginalized.

You can't physically give Jesus shelter, fix him a meal, or put a clean shirt on his back; you can't visit him in a prison cell or offer him a drink of water. But when you do it for them - for the least - you are doing it for him. And when you're not doing it for them, you're not doing it for him.

Ouch.

This teaching was brought home to me in a powerful way during the visit to Mother Theresa's Home for the Dying in Calcutta. It seemed as though everywhere I looked in the "Mother House" and in the Home for the Dying there were crucifixes on the walls with a plaque above them, reading "I Thirst". Teresa has these words affixed to the crucifixes as a constant reminder to the sisters and volunteers why they were
serving the poorest of the poor. You can I cannot go back in history and give Jesus a drink of water to quench the thirst he experienced as he hung on the cross, but we can certainly quench the thirst of the "least of these" on a daily basis. I cannot stop the pain Jesus felt while the nails ripped his flesh, but I can kneel next to a woman in
excruciating pain and wipe her brow. I cannot cover Jesus' naked body, left exposed to ridicule by soldiers, but I can clothe a child whose only shirt is torn and filthy. If, as Teresa said, Jesus is seen in his "most distressing disguise" of the poor, then when I meet their needs, I am offering love to my Saviour. Conversely, when I do not chose to meet their needs, I am neglecting him.

Deliberately choosing to enter into the experience of a fellow human being sets the stage for God to make an entrance. As Sister Dolores says "The dying are moved by the love they receive.... Because of this, they believe that God must be even kinder, more generous, and so their souls are lifted up to God." Choosing to suffer with
proves our love for our Saviour and at the same time proves to the least, the
last, and the lost that there is a Saviour who loves them.

Are you beginning to understand that compassion is about making a decision? It's
not an emotion that hits you out of the blue; expressing compassion is a deliberate choice. When you stop changing the channel and stop denying the evil and suffering, you can begin to cultivate some new habits, some new Christlike patterns of response.

We are most like Christ, when we choose to offer the gift of our presence and chose to absorb within ourselves the suffering of the least, the last, and the lost. Are you looking for Jesus? That's where you'll find him.