I’d been running behind all day, and on this particular Monday afternoon, I found myself racing through the grocery store near dinnertime. I wasn’t even sure what we were having yet but knew I needed to finish my shopping quickly to get home to my hungry family.
While speeding through the frozen food section, I was suddenly forced to slow down and maneuver my cart around that of an elderly gentleman who was parked in the middle of the aisle. I quickly glanced at the sparse contents of his cart while I worked around it. The cart held a few crates of nutritional breakfast shakes. He was carefully leaning in to one of the freezers and pulling out frozen dinners that he stacked on top of the crates, one right after the other. A week’s worth of microwavable dinners. A walking cane with those bright green tennis balls attached to the feet lay across the top of the cart. I glanced at my own cart filled with fresh produce and meats, spices and herbs–the makings of fresh, nutrient-rich dinners that I prioritize for my family.
Something squeezed tight around my heart, but I kept going.
I wheeled my cart to the check-out center but couldn’t get the elderly man’s week of meals out of my mind. I couldn’t call his face to mind because I never looked directly at him. How hard would it be to go back and ask him if you could bring him dinner one night this week? I asked myself. I scanned my items at the self-checkout counter. You could just go back and find him and ask. His cart clearly reflects a lack of human involvement in his meals. He probably lives alone. I’m sure he’s lonely. Just go back and see. The inner dialogue continued even as I placed the last bag of groceries in my cart and exited the store. It persisted while I loaded my shopping bags into my van and put my cart away.
On the drive home, I thought about what I’d done in doing nothing. I pondered the intersection of faith and kindness. I wondered if I’d missed a major opportunity to befriend someone who needed the love of Christ displayed to him through food and friendship and an intentional space for sharing the gospel. The frozen dinners, the generic crate of nutritional shakes, the cane–I figured him to be a widower. If he were a member of a church, surely the church would help meet his needs. Surely he wouldn’t be buying a week’s worth of TV dinners if he had a faith community, so I surmised that he must not be a part of a church. Following my logic, I thought it likely that he didn’t know Christ. All this from a basket of pre-prepared foods. It’s all conjecture, I know, but it’s possible.
I walked away from him because I was running late. I could have reached out with a meal, a relationship, my family, my home, my faith, my church, my Jesus. My life might have intersected with his for one moment or for years to come, but now it certainly won’t at all because I ignored the compassion pressing against my chest. I resisted the knowledge of the precise steps I should take. And I quieted that voice I recognize so well because I was in a hurry.
Listen to His Voice.
I’m not here to debate the ways that the Holy Spirit works in our lives; plenty of people I respect disagree on this subject. But every believer in Jesus should recognize His voice because we should be familiarizing ourselves with it when we expose our hearts to the Word every day. After a while, you recognize His promptings because you see the opportunities to be obedient to His commands and exhortations of Scripture. This is the way. Walk in it. Jesus said to His disciples, “These things I have spoken to you while I am still with you. But the Helper, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in My name, He will teach you all things and bring to your remembrance all that I have said to you” (Jn. 14:25-26). One of the ways the Holy Spirit works in our lives as believers is to remind us of the words of Christ. He teaches us and brings to mind the commands of Jesus. And Jesus was clear that obedience to His commands was essential for loving Him. “If anyone loves Me, he will keep My word” (Jn.14:23a). The proclamation of our love for Christ means little if we don’t obey Him.
The proclamation of our love for Christ means little if we don't obey Him. Share on XSo where does that leave us when we ignore the things we absolutely know in our hearts are good and right for us to do? And not just because they’re good and right things for the sake of being good and right but for the sake of welcoming the world into our homes, for the hope of generously giving away the gospel along with a bowl of soup, for jumping at the opportunity to live out the gospel that has transformed our hearts? What do I do about the moment where I chose my convenience over the opportunity to express the love of Christ to someone who likely needed it, even if for just one meal or one conversation?
Tears welled up in my eyes while I cooked dinner for my family. It’s too late. I should have gone back. Why didn’t I go back? I thought of the cart and the frozen dinners and the tennis ball feet of the walker in the middle of the night when I got up with a restless child. I saw it all again when I opened my Bible to 1 Peter 3 this morning and listened to the Spirit speak through Peter, “Now finally, all of you should be like-minded and sympathetic, should love believers, and be compassionate and humble,” and again when I went for my early morning run and prayed through the ways I’ve failed the Lord.
But also, Obey His Voice.
There’s grace for the failures. This morning’s rising sun reminded me that there are mercies brand new for me today, and the blood of Jesus at the cross was sufficient to cover my every refusal to obey His voice. But new mercies don’t mean I should presume on God’s kindness. These new mercies and this new day are the Lord’s provision because they are new opportunities to listen to His voice and look for opportunities to be sympathetic and compassionate. The words I read and study, tear apart and put back together every morning are not for merely accumulating a pile of knowledge in my head. At some point, I have to walk in obedience to them. This is what loving Christ looks like: obedience. And not just reactionary obedience but intentional obedience. Jesus’ brother, James, said that the man who listens but doesn’t obey is like one who looks in a mirror and then immediately forgets what he looks like (Ja. 1:22-27). It’s illogical. Obedience to the Lord is the logical next step after hearing His voice in His Word.
Perhaps you are reading to the end of this post because you want to see if I rectified the situation, to see if I tracked down the man somehow and made good on the conviction that wrapped itself so tightly around my heart. I’m sorry to disappoint you. I missed my chance. I hate that I purposefully missed my chance. I will always wonder what might have come if I had chosen compassion over busyness. I learned from the experience that sometimes there is expediency bound up in the conviction the Lord puts in our hearts. Open-handed living and compassion driven by the good news of the gospel is always the right way to live. I missed the opportunity to love the man with the cart and the cane, but I will not miss the next opportunity to look for the way Jesus would have generously doled out compassion and truth. Every morning I hear the voice of the Lord as I read His words and pray through them. I know His voice well after listening so closely all these years of following Him. But I cannot, cannot stop at listening when it comes to His Word.
We’re generally not good at listening. I write often about studying the Word because we do not listen enough to the voice of the Lord. We let everything else in life take priority over Bible intake. But what I’m learning is that following Christ isn’t just listening; it’s obedience. Obedience is the step after listening. When you’ve been listening, then you’ll know what obedience looks like. And hopefully, you’ll choose to obey.
Hopefully, by the Lord’s grace, we both will.
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Photo by Kai Oberhäuser on Unsplash
Glenna Marshall is married to her pastor, William, and lives in rural Southeast Missouri where she tries and fails to keep up with her two energetic sons. She is the author of The Promise is His Presence (P&R) and Everyday Faithfulness (Crossway), and Memorizing Scripture (Moody). Connect with her on Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter.
Hi Glenna! I’m new to your blog. A friend of mine posted your entry titled Is Christ Enough! The first time I read it there were tears and much conviction! The second time I read it through to my husband I could hardly get through it! I’m so excited to be a part of your blog! The Lord has surely given you much wisdom and I’ve already shared that first entry I read with some of my gal friends! I too am so thankful for His Word, His grace and mercy and faithfulness! I often think of Psalm 130 verse 3&4!! If He marked our transgressions who could stand! God bless you Sister!!
Wish I could say I liked your post, but it’s too convicting! I pray all the time to not be just a hearer, but a doer. Sadly, I fail way to often. And I agree with Eva. I’m so thankful our sins are as far as the east is from the west. Love you.