We have a wonderful new family night that somehow gets pulled off at our church each Wednesday. Although our harvest is plentiful, the laborers are sometimes few, yet still miraculously we all are ministered to in some way, shape, or form on these wild and crazy nights.
There is a beauty in the madness and chaos. It can't be measured in attendance or perfection in our presentation.
It's measured in sliced oranges being thrown into a pot of cider on the stove, and the laughter that is shared as it's being sipped.
It's measured in the words spoken in the midst of the busy-ness of gathering scissors and crayons - "There's a man here who just came in off the street. He's hungry."
One of our amazing staff members, Megan, sent me his way as she went to dig through the pantry and freezer to find something to meet his need.
As I approached him, I asked his name, and after answering he looked at me with a bit of embarrassment and begin to share his story once again... "Ma'am. I'm sorry to bother you, but I'm hun..."
I have the best job ever. Because I'm surrounded by people who have hearts for mission, I was able to interrupt him and say, "Jeff, come on in! We're having our family meal right now. Let's get you a plate!"
I can't express to you in words what shone in his eyes as he heard me speak. The tears began to well up in mine.
Jeff shared spaghetti with us. And Megan sent more home for later.
But it was more than spaghetti. It was love and dignity and humanity and community and Jesus.
The amount of sacrifice it takes to make these Wednesday nights happen week in and week out is significant. It's a whole lot of collaboration and a whole lot of reliance upon the Lord's power.
But I'm pretty sure if Jesus returned bodily to Earth tonight and was walking down SE 44th Street hungry, He'd expect His Church to be having spaghetti together and waiting to invite Him in.
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...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.’