It Was I

Read Matthew 25:31-46

After Jesus' disciples privately ask him to explain the end of the age, he reveals to them how the final judgment will work. I've seen elaborate, analytical charts and heard frenzied shouting about what is to come, but both of these approaches have seemed weird and somehow increased my discomfort with what is already an uncomfortable topic. No one I know wants to talk about God judging them. It is terrifying. I have to decide what is more uncomfortable: God will bring justice for all people, or there is no justice in the end. If I cannot count on God to care about the poor, needy, hungry, sick, and imprisoned, then what hope do they have? It would be as Macbeth despaired, "Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player...It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing." When we look to the future, we either look into the void, or we see Jesus in his glory. But Jesus has a strange idea of glory. Imagine God in all his splendor. Are you thinking about a hungry woman begging for food? A naked man pleading for a blanket? A sick child coughing for medicine? A lonely prisoner staring at his cell wall? In a line that no one would dare invent, Jesus told his disciples that "whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me." Who but God would imagine that loving the neediest person would be an act of worship? I often talk with my Christian friends about how God is with us, and we thank God for sending his Spirit to live within us. But the doctrine of "The Body of Christ," the idea that the church is Christ's own body, isn't a theoretical or sentimental doctrine. If Jesus is with us, then he is with all our brothers and sisters. It's easy to say, "God loves the poor." But it's much harder for us to do the same. Jesus gives us a test that reveals what we love. If a Christian friend has a nice house, it's easy to say, "Let's hang out at your place." But if they don't have a home, we learn what we really wanted. Best of all, if we read this when we are the ones in need, we learn that God is not looking down on us, but calling his people to join him in our troubles. The modern appeal of a daily quiet time is obvious: some peace and quiet amidst a busy, stressful day. It's one reason I write The Daily. Why not start the day with a cup of coffee, seated in a recliner, while contemplating some thought-provoking writing? But if our desire is to be with God, then Jesus says he will see if we visited his people in prison. Do we want to be with Christ, or do we want to be comfortable? For many years, I dismissed the plain meaning of Jesus' words. I said to myself, "You can't earn your way to heaven, so I don't need to worry about this. I'm going to heaven because Jesus died on the cross for me." I still think that eternal life is a gift received by faith, but I'm no longer confident that I can ignore what Jesus taught. How can I be sure that I've received the gift of eternal life? Jesus tells us that the righteous ones are identified by a life of habitually serving those in need, and the true nature of the wicked is revealed by their lack of compassion. Jesus is telling us how to evaluate our faith. At times, I think that continuing to serve those in need will be miserable. It will mean deprivation and discomfort. But every time I've served in my community, or visited those in need overseas, I've found that I had it wrong. Every year, when I coordinate a pop-up salon that provides haircuts and esthetician services to those in need, I know I'll probably go home sunburned and sore. But I never adequately anticipate the joy and hope that God gives as I look his people in the eye and invite them to come in. Martuin didn't recognize the gift until after it happened. One day soon, Jesus will tell us when we ate with him and then invite us to eat with him forever.