Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry and gave you food or thirsty and gave you something to drink? And when was it that we saw you a stranger and welcomed you or naked and gave you clothing? And when was it that we saw you sick or in prison and visited you?’ And the king will answer them, ‘Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did it to me.’
- Matthew 25:37-40
“How you can you see that and not believe in God?”
That’s a sentiment you’ve probably heard from a fellow Christian, or even said yourself, when dazzled by the beauty of the natural world. Maybe it was a particularly colorful sunset that inspired the thought. Perhaps the words came on a mountain’s peak as you gazed out at the magnificent vista below. Even something as simple and serene as a morning on the beach, watching the waves crash in the distance and the tide roll in and out, can inspire the sentiment.
But what I can almost guarantee is that whatever you saw that prompted the thought was something majestic, something awe-inspiring, something bigger than yourself. “How can you see that and not believe in God” is not something we say when we’re looking at an armadillo or listening to a cricket; the routine and the simple do not often point us toward spirituality. It is grandeur, not humility, that makes us think about the Lord.
But the gospel story ought to give us pause in that respect. Jesus came to earth as a baby in a manger, not a king on a throne. He grew up in a carpenter’s home, he called fishermen to his side, he spent his ministry among the poor and the marginalized. And when he brought salvation to this world, he did so on an old rugged cross, dying so we could have life. The gospel is the story of the Word becoming flesh and living among us, of Jesus trading the glory of heaven for the suffering of earth, all so that we could know eternal life with God.
So it’s no wonder that, in his startling picture of the judgment to come, he calls to mind the hungry, the stranger, the naked, the sick, and the imprisoned and associates himself with them. Just as you treated them, he says, so have you treated me. When you ignore or disdain or reject them, you do it to Jesus. When you help them, you help Jesus.
So maybe it’s time for us to see the world a little differently, to rely less on sunsets and rainbows for our spiritual inspiration and turn our attention instead to the places we’d rather not look at all. See the wild-eyed man at the intersection holding his cardboard sign that insists “Anything helps.” See the frazzled mother in the checkout line trying to determine whether she can afford formula and diapers before her next paycheck. See the angry teenager trying so hard to hide his fear and confusion with misbehavior.
See
the people the world tells you to ignore. Because, Jesus asks, how can you look
at them and not see me?
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