For The Least Of These

"Then the King will say to those on his right, 'Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.'

"Then the righteous will answer him, 'Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?'

"The King will reply, 'I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.' Matthew 25:34-40

I can remember lots of times in my life when I've cried. Moments of salty, wet, emotional release spilling down my cheeks in rapid succession. Yet for all the pain I felt at those times I can barely remember the core of my pain. Most of the situations have resolved themselves or become less painful with the passing of time.

In that vein, God has prompted me to do some serious thinking in one particular area of my life. What it all comes down to is this:

Has there ever been a time when grief washed over me simply because someone didn't know Christ? Essentially, when was the last time I wept for the lost?

I'm not talking about people halfway around the world, though certainly they matter too. I'm talking about people like my next door neighbor. Or, the nurse who takes my kids' vitals when they visit the doctor. The clerk at Wal-greens, the stranger in line with me at the bank, the parents of my daughter's classmates. But that's just my neighborhood.

What about those who are seemingly invisible? The single mom across town who can't make ends meet. A runaway teenager who will sleep beneath an overpass tonight. Or even the college student whose faith couldn't withstand the pressure of life on his own. The depressed man who lost his job and can't bring himself to tell his wife.

Is there anything in my life that would prove that I give a damn about any of the people I just mentioned?

The cursor flashes, waiting for my answer. Waiting for the truth.

For the most part my answer is no. Lately I've locked myself inside a Christian bubble. I've watched TV instead of prayed. I've thrown out clothes instead of donate them. I've eaten out instead of donating that same amount of money to a food pantry. And worst of all, I've hidden behind the guise of "busy" to excuse my lackadaisical use of the gifts God has given me.

I've been idle in the worst way, fat and happy in the bounty of God's grace.

Meanwhile, the city of Louisville hums. People of all ages, races and socioeconomic profile slip into the chaos of life as usual. And I, along with them, adjust my blinders and throw myself into the mix.

It hasn't always been this way for me. God's telling me He's ready for me to rediscover my love for the lost. And I'm taking you with me on the journey.

From time to time, starting next week I will begin profiling grassroots ministry organizations that are rooted in my highest traffic cities. Together we will explore the ins and outs of taking the Gospel to what Jesus called "the least of these." Together with these ministries you'll be given opportunities to pray for and partner with their mission: taking Jesus Christ to a lost world.

In the meantime I could use your help. Tell me about the ministries in your area that are taking the Good News to others. I'll add the organizations to my list and we'll profile as many of them as possible. I'm looking forward to this journey. I'd love to know what you think, too.