April 26
Saying, "Yes!" to the Least of His People
I tell you the truth, anything you refuse to do for even the least of my people here, you refused to do for me.
Matthew 25:45 (NLT)
Quiet footsteps enter my study and I hear my eight-year old’s inviting, melodic voice, “Dad, it’s time for karate….” He has finished practicing with his Tommy Nitro Karate DVD and now he wants to practice on me.
I look at my desk and the projects I’m falling behind on: bills to pay, accounts to balance, important correspondence to answer. The urgent, growing pile screams at me, pulling me away from the cute, sandy-haired, blue-eyed boy dressed in white.
By comparison, my older sons are teens now and pretty much past this stage. It’s I who seek them out, but still, probably not enough. My heart aches as I think of the missed opportunities. It is enough. The thought stirs me.
I smile at my son, drop my pencil and follow him upstairs to the playroom. For thirty minutes we duel in a happy, slow-motion dance of preposterous maneuvers. His Rocket Fists of Fury streak straight toward me. I cup my mouth and begin exhaling my Indomitable Blow Dryer of Death attack only to be countered and overcome by Alex’s Atomic Elbows of Destruction and his Sweeping Sidekick of Pain. We tumble, tussle, and laugh, and I am thankful for not missing this. For I am doing this for my son, and I am doing this for Jesus. And in the bigger scheme of things, I am doing it for myself.
Lord, give us sensitive hearts to what may seem like smaller needs but really aren’t. Help us say “Yes!” to the least of Your people. Amen.
Saying, "Yes!" to the Least of His People
I tell you the truth, anything you refuse to do for even the least of my people here, you refused to do for me.
Matthew 25:45 (NLT)
Quiet footsteps enter my study and I hear my eight-year old’s inviting, melodic voice, “Dad, it’s time for karate….” He has finished practicing with his Tommy Nitro Karate DVD and now he wants to practice on me.
I look at my desk and the projects I’m falling behind on: bills to pay, accounts to balance, important correspondence to answer. The urgent, growing pile screams at me, pulling me away from the cute, sandy-haired, blue-eyed boy dressed in white.
By comparison, my older sons are teens now and pretty much past this stage. It’s I who seek them out, but still, probably not enough. My heart aches as I think of the missed opportunities. It is enough. The thought stirs me.
I smile at my son, drop my pencil and follow him upstairs to the playroom. For thirty minutes we duel in a happy, slow-motion dance of preposterous maneuvers. His Rocket Fists of Fury streak straight toward me. I cup my mouth and begin exhaling my Indomitable Blow Dryer of Death attack only to be countered and overcome by Alex’s Atomic Elbows of Destruction and his Sweeping Sidekick of Pain. We tumble, tussle, and laugh, and I am thankful for not missing this. For I am doing this for my son, and I am doing this for Jesus. And in the bigger scheme of things, I am doing it for myself.
Lord, give us sensitive hearts to what may seem like smaller needs but really aren’t. Help us say “Yes!” to the least of Your people. Amen.
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