[Great Verses] Love the Lord Fullyনমুনা

Do I love people, as if they were Jesus?

And the King will answer them, “Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did to me.”


In a sermon at the Richard Mauthe Center for Faith, the writer and college professor Anthony Campolo tells this story: I walked down Chestnut Street in Philadelphia. There was a filthy bum, covered with soot from head to toe. He had a huge beard. I’ll never forget the beard. It was a gigantic beard with rotted food stuck in it. He held a cup of McDonald’s coffee and mumbled as he walked along the street. He spotted me and said, “Hey, Mister. You want some of my coffee?” I knew I should take some to be nice, and I did. I gave it back to him and said, “You’re being pretty generous, giving away your coffee this morning. What’s gotten into you that you’re giving away your coffee all of a sudden?” He said, “Well, the coffee was especially delicious this morning, and I figured if God gives you something good, you ought to share it with people.”


I figured, “This is the perfect set up.” I said, “Is there anything I can give you in return?” I’m sure he’s going to hit me for five dollars. He said, “Yeah, you can give me a hug.” I was hoping for the five dollars. He put his arms around me. I put my arms around him. And I realized something. He wasn’t going to let me go. He was holding onto me. Here I am, an establishment guy, and this bum is hanging on to me. He’s hugging me. He’s not going to let me go. People are passing on the street. They’re staring at me. I’m embarrassed. But little by little my embarrassment turned to awe. I heard a voice echoing down the corridors of time saying, “I was hungry. Did you feed me? I was naked. Did you clothe me? I was sick. Did you care for me? I was the bum you met on Chestnut Street. Did you hug me? For if you did it unto the least of these, my brothers and sisters, you did it to Me. And if you failed to do it unto the least of these, my brothers and sisters, you failed to do it unto Me.”


In The Jesus I Never Knew, Philip Yancey relates the story of Mother Teresa talking to a rich American visitor who could not comprehend her fierce commitment to the dregs of Calcutta. She said, “We are a contemplative order. First we meditate on Jesus, and then we go out and look for Him in disguise.” This statement by Jesus astounds me, convicts me, and challenges me. Do I see people, do I treat people, do I love people, as if they were Jesus?