Humble Pie: It’s Not About Us — Wednesday
Acts 5:42
And every day, in the Temple and from house to house, they continued to teach and preach this message: “Jesus is the Messiah.” (NLT)
“So, how does this work?”
The giant box truck door flew upward. Inside the back of the U-Haul sat row upon row of paper bags, filled to the brim with groceries.
“Grab a bag and start knocking!” the volunteers said cheerfully. For many of them unloading the truck, this wasn’t their first rodeo.
But for a 25-year-old who had stumbled his way onto a launch team of a church plant, this was the furthest thing from normal—or safe.
The Casalinda efficiency apartments weren’t as much “apartments” as they were a monthly-rate hotel. But for many of the convicted felons and drug rehabilitation patients living there, it was home. The complex was nestled a few miles south of downtown Nashville, an area I had never been to before this particular night.
“What am I supposed to say?” I squeaked, hesitantly grabbing a bag.
“Just say you have some groceries for them, and that Jesus loves them,” someone smiled. “Wish them a Happy Thanksgiving… and try not to get shot!” she teased.
Ha-ha.
Nervously, I knocked on my first two doors. Neither answered. But on my third try, a young woman finally answered. Her bleached hair was frizzy, and her eyes were red. I couldn’t tell if she’d been high or crying.
“Hi… My name is Connor, and, uh… these are for you.”
She shot me a blank look.
“They’re just some groceries!” I said, nervously explaining. “We just… want you to know that Jesus loves you.”
She held the groceries but said nothing. Then, after a moment, her lip quivered. Suddenly, she fell into my chest, sobbing, crying into my shirt. Not knowing what else to do, I hugged her back.
Sometimes hugs say the best prayers.
It’s tough for me to believe that a woman like her would feel comfortable showing her face in most churches. Sadly, I can think of some churches where someone like her wouldn’t even be welcome. But that night, through a bunch of nervous believers, the church came to her.
As I thumb through the book of Acts, one thing is clear: This is what the Church has always been called to do.
Early believers went from house to house, door to door, proclaiming the message of Jesus to those who may have never had the chance to hear it.
And if I had to guess, they gave out a few hugs, too.
Wednesday’s Reflection
This holiday season, what are some ways you can be the church in your neighborhood? Who can you share the gospel with that doesn’t know Jesus?
