Hands

“For suppose a man comes into your meeting wearing a gold ring, dressed in fine clothes, and a poor man dressed in dirty clothes also comes in. If you look with favor on the man wearing the fine clothes so that you say, ‘Sit here in a good place,’ and yet you say to the poor man, ‘Stand over there,’ or, ‘Sit here on the floor by my footstool,’ haven’t you discriminated among yourselves and become judges with evil thoughts? Listen, my dear brothers: Didn’t God choose the poor in this world to be rich in faith and heirs of the kingdom that He has promised to those who love Him?” (James 2:2-5).

Sunday mornings are my favorite time of the week. Besides attending a wonderful church, it’s an opportunity for me to see my friends and buzz all around the lobby. I talk, I smile, I get hugs, I plan playdates. When I get back to the car, I always feel loved. Not only have I worshipped the Lord and heard the Word, but I have had a nice social time as well.

(What I’m about to say is hard for me to write. It feels too honest, somehow.)

Yesterday morning in church, I sat on the front row with my husband. As we sat down after worship, I noticed the man. I have seen him a lot at church, and I’ve talked to him a few times. He’s come up to my volunteer table several times and asked me if I could help him get in one of our small groups. He’s always friendly, never pushy. I’m friendly back as I write down his email and tell him I’ll contact him soon.

We usually plug new people into small groups right there at the table, but he is someone that goes on my list. I have a list of people I need to personally follow up with because they need a little more time and thought. He needs more time and thought because he is severely disabled and in a wheelchair.

And he had gone on the bottom of my list.

I plan on emailing him. I plan on talking to him. But I have so much else to do for church. Besides, I don’t know if I will be able to find a small group that can accomodate his wheelchair. So I have basically forgotten about him since October.

Since October.

God help my selfishness.

Yesterday morning, he, too, was in the front row. He listened and smiled and I could see that he was drinking in the sermon. Without warning, I felt the conviction of the Holy Spirit come. I needed to go and make the time to talk to him after the service. Instead of talking to my friends in the lobby, instead of planning yet another fun coffee night, I needed to use that time and talk to this man.

After church, I walked over to him holding my Small Groups noteboook. I smiled and asked if he had a few minutes to talk to me about getting in a small group. His two friends that bring him every week beamed at me, “Oh!” they exclaimed, throwing their hands in the air and looking at me as if I was the most amazing gift, “You have no idea how wonderful it is for you to say this!”

Amazing gift? Wonderful? I felt like a worm. Because the five minutes I spent talking to him and the twenty minutes I’m going to spend today writing some email to our group leaders…that is so easy to do. It’s something so easy, but it means so much to him.

I want to impact my sphere of influence. I want to change my world for Christ. I want to be His hands in a hurting world. I want to see Him move in mighty and powerful ways in my life. But I have forgotten that the ways in which He uses me most mightily are in the smallest ways. That the cup of water, or the kind word to my son, or the greeting to my husband when he walks in the door, or talking to this man at church… this is how Christ wants to use me to change my world. This is how I can impact today.

After I talked to the man at church, I wrote my email address down for him. “Look,” I said, slipping the piece of paper in the bag on the back of his wheelchair, “You call me if you haven’t heard from me in a couple of weeks, o-kay?”

“Wait,” he said, “I don’t want anything to happen to your email. Can you put it under my hand?”

I lifted up his limp fingers, slid my email under it, and lingered just for a second on how it felt to touch his small, cold hand.

“I’ll be in touch.” I said.

Father, give me your perspective this day on what it means to serve in the name of Jesus. Help me to focus on the things that have eternal perspective, not just the fun things of this world. It is an honor, Lord, to serve in your name. Please make me a woman who serves you with integrity and joy. In the name of your Son, Amen.