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Our Finest Hour: Me, myself, the coronavirus, and my neighbor…

My mom, who lives in the UK, is active and well. She is, however, by dint of her age, classified as “vulnerable” for the purposes of the Coronavirus threat. This week, she received a note through her door, from her immediate neighbor (a young mom with kids). The note read, “We just wanted to let you know that we are here to help in any way we can. Just in case you have mislaid it – here is my cell number. Please text me with your groceries and it would be our pleasure for me to fetch them for you. We can leave them on your front doorstep if you prefer. And if it is not raining on Saturday, why don’t we stand with a cup of coffee on our respective sides of the garden fence and let’s catch up! Shall we say 10:00am?” My mom was so blessed by this gesture. It was such a simple thing to do but it meant the world to my mom that someone would choose to take a moment out of their own busy day to bless her day.

In Jesus’ teaching about the sheep and the goats (Matthew 25: 31-46), Jesus communicated that there will be eternal consequences to the choices we make. Get it right and we follow the way of the “sheep” (“Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance…” – verse 34). To get it wrong is to go the way of the goats — what C.S Lewis calls, “the other thing.” This is Jesus saying that we are going to be held directly accountable for something that we might not even notice or recognize. (“Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or needing clothes or ill or in prison, and did not help you?” – verse 44). Where is the love of God in the whole sheep and goat thing? Where is the grace of God in that? To which Jesus is saying: well, where is there grace in any of us walking past the sick, those vulnerable to the Coronavirus, the hurting, the poor, the prisoner, the destitute or the hungry — without a second look? Where is the grace in us concluding that it is okay to ignore people who are suffering or vulnerable because we are stronger, healthier, younger, and better fed than they are?

And after all, Jesus’ instructions in this teaching are very straightforward: welcome the stranger, feed the hungry, give the thirsty something to drink, tend to the sick and visit the prisoner. So, what do you do?

Well, you could try to dial it down. The first response might be to say: Well, when Jesus said this, He did not really mean it literally. He’s just stirring us up a bit. Let’s give that a fancy theological name to satisfy our intellectual pride and call it “rabbinic hyperbole” — a little bit of ancient near-eastern sensationalism to catch our attention and make us think! Yes, that’s what we’ll call it. Except that it is not rabbinic hyperbole. What Jesus is describing here is the shape of God’s heart. “There will always be poor and vulnerable people in the land. Therefore, I command you to be open-handed towards your brothers and towards the poor and needy in your land.” (Deuteronomy 15:7) And it’s a heart that we find throughout the whole Bible.

So, what standard of care toward the poor is going to make me fit for the afterlife? Jesus is again offering very little comfort here when He tells us that the standard is perfection: “Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.” (Matthew 5:48) and “Jesus answered, ‘If you want to be perfect, go, sell your possessions and give to the poor.’” (Matthew 19:21.

Which brings us to the second response: dialing it up. We say, well, if this is what it is going to take, then I had better get on with this. And so, in our own strength, we begin to take on the world and the Coronavirus. The problem is that this is way beyond any of us to fix, and we end up with an unsustainable counterfeit version that ultimately leads us to any number of reactions: sick, overwhelmed, disappointed, burned out, apathetic. Or we may even become legalistic or self-righteous. We recognize that perfection is out of reach and apathy is not an option — and yet we are still called to this standard of excellence. So, what do you do?

What is left for us is to step into a process of spirit-led transformation. This begins with our acknowledging our own poverty — we simply cannot do this in our own strength. We do not have the moral fortitude to do this. This is about recognizing our powerlessness to change ourselves or this world in our own strength. And from this place, it is about coming to the Cross of Jesus Christ. Here, we willingly submit ourselves to the Holy Spirit to be transformed into the image of Jesus who is perfect. We accept that this is a process. A process that is mapped out one person at a time, one kind note at a time, one cup of coffee across a fence at a time. Quite rightly, we have made a lot of plans and taken a great deal of trouble to prepare virtual worship, but this is not a virtual crisis. We are dealing with a viral threat that is passed person to person.

This is also about allowing Jesus to give us the gift of faith that, together, in the power of God, we can make a difference. The problem is when we read the Bible and it says “you” we have a tendency to take it as “me” when we should take it as “we.” In God’s power and leading, we are supposed to work together. Up and down New England we are a family of churches on mission together.  And because of Jesus, because of the Cross, we discover our place on a trajectory that says that the heart of God will prevail. Healing, redemption, peace, hope and justice will all prevail.

My mom’s neighbor is a follower of Jesus and she knows that my mom loves the Lord too. My mom’s neighbor concluded, “We will be praying for you. I can’t help but think that the Lord would take this opportunity to wake us all up, to encourage His church to be His love in action.” That handwritten note is the best sermon I have heard for a long time! Let’s not pretend that loving our neighbor in this time of fear is an overly complicated action. It really can be this profoundly simple and beautiful. And imagine what we can do together in the power of the Spirit.

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Let This Be Our Finest Hour

Margaret Mead wrote, “Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.”

In the wake of so much fear, confusion, disquiet, and sickness, as members of a network of thriving and dynamic, spirit-filled churches up and down New England, we have in the power of God, a great opportunity to transform our culture. As Jesus’ agents of His peace, hope, love, and healing we have the gift to re-shape troubled and harried hearts. In the outbreak of sickness, we can be the carriers of the greater outbreak of Jesus’ love. Please, let’s not look back at this time and lament that we missed such an opportunity. Indeed, let us take such action, that we might recall with godly pride (where we celebrate the glory of God in each other’s lives) that, by His grace, this was our finest hour!

Andy Crouch (executive editor of Christianity Today) gives this helpful direction, “This crisis presents an extraordinary opportunity to fortify small communities of love and care for our neighbors. That will only happen if we lead in a way that reduces fear, increases faith, and reorients all of us from self-protection to serving others.” I am receiving the most remarkable calls from our ordained and lay leaders whose testimony is that this is indeed happening.

Father Len Cowan and his wife Hallie are leading the way to be salt and light in their neighborhood. The Abbey of the Way hosted the community in a Q&A session with local doctors and medical experts who were able to provide a balanced and reasonable account of the health crisis. “Like the Celtic houses of prayer and hospitality, The Abbey of the Way is a refuge.” commented Father Len, “It was a good opportunity to serve the neighborhood with reliable medical testimony and for us to assure residents that, as followers of Jesus, we are praying for them. We intend to open our home in this way on a weekly basis and if people are troubled by coming inside – we shall meet on the lawn!”

Reverend Craig Vickerman in Attleboro is working with his church on plans to provide daycare for local children whose schools have been temporarily closed but whose parents still have jobs they need to attend to. They are also considering ways to bring food and provisions to older members of the local community. These innovative and spirit-led projects are typical of the servant heart that is pervading the Diocese.

Andy Crouch continues, “We have become accustomed to culture being shaped “somewhere else” — by elected officials, especially national ones; by celebrities; by media. But we are dealing with a virus that is transmitted person to person, in small and large groups of actual people. This is not a virtual crisis — it is a local, embodied one.” What we need, therefore, are local, embodied responses to the wider community. I am so encouraged by what I see across New England through the agency of our Diocese.

This week I wrote to the Diocese about the implications of the virus, our responsibility to conform to recommended hygiene practices, our call to serve in love and the reality, that on a community by community basis, we may find ourselves having to close our church doors for Sunday worship and larger gatherings. I will not repeat that letter but suffice to say, if we have no choice but to suspend Sunday worship let us not imagine that we are suspending the ongoing life and ministry of the church.  “Let us consider how to provoke one another to love and good deeds, not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day approaching” (Heb. 10:24–25). Crouch comments. “The author of these words, who lived in a world that knew the danger of plagues very well (though not the exact mechanism), who urged his congregation to meet even when they expected an imminent Day of Judgment, would hardly have said that we ought to stop meeting for worship under the conditions of an infectious disease.”

So, if we must suspend our larger gatherings, let us be intentional and creative about how we might continue to worship and pray together. Let us re-imagine small groups, the family unit and let’s not forget the plethora of social media that makes worship and virtual prayer meetings not only possible but free of any risk of infection. Reverend Michael Kafeero of St. Paul’s Waltham has, for a very long time, led his congregation in conference call prayer meetings, twice a day, Monday to Friday. These are well attended, lively worship and prayer events that provide real sustenance to his church family members through the week.

Let us not forget that worship is an integral and vital piece of our human flourishing. We were made for His presence. We cannot take the difficult decision to close our doors on Sundays and then imagine that, as followers of Jesus, we are on some kind of extended “Snow-day.” In these circumstances, we must be ready to ask God how He might have us use our resources and time to demonstrate His presence in service and to draw us into His presence in worship. Have no doubt, He has great plans for us, and they will be life to us. [LINK TO LETTER – WITH LIST OF WAYS TO SERVE]

COVID-19 is the cause of much pain and suffering but it is not the end of the world. It is, however, exactly the kind of event that Jesus prepared us for in these end times. (Matthew 24:6). So, by His grace and in the power of His Spirit, let us be the non-anxious presence in the community distinguished by His presence in our worship and in service to others. When we allow Jesus to lead us in the reality that He will never leave us nor forsake us, we can rise above anxiety and we can stretch out our hand draw others into His embrace. It is never helpful to say, “You are overreacting.” Jesus would say and does say, “…fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” (Isaiah 41:10).

We have every reason to trust that this epidemic will pass. By God’s grace, the human immune system has a remarkable capacity to adapt and resist viral threat. Furthermore, the grace of modern medicine is not a second-class miracle. Pray for all those globally in the medical field including those in research programs. This is indeed good news, but it is not the focus of the hope we have in Jesus. The Apostle Paul reassures us, “Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?” The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God! He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. Therefore, my dear brothers and sisters, stand firm. Let nothing move you. Always give yourselves fully to the work of the Lord, because you know that your labor in the Lord is not in vain.” (1 Corinthians 15:54-58)

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No trace of a path and the sound of wild boars who can smell my blood…

So, I am on the mountains of Southern Italy, hazardously near the edge of a six-hundred-foot precipice. All that’s behind me is deep, dense, dark forest with not the faintest trace of a path. For three hours I have been alone: lost, with no cell phone and a solar operated wristwatch that has stopped because the leaf foliage is blocking out all sunshine and all conceivable hope of rescue. I might also add that my legs are torn to shreds and I am remembering a guidebook that warned me that these remote parts of Italy are inhabited by wild boar who, like sharks of the deep waters, are the sharks of the deep woods and can smell the blood pouring down my legs from quite some distance.

This episode (which is unfortunately all true) began with a family vacation and my waking at 5:00am with a notion that I could run to the top of the mountain that was directly behind our guest house. Fabrice, the owner of our accommodation, had mentioned something about mountain paths and the idea was lodged. It all started out well enough. The sun was rising, the birds were singing, and I congratulated myself as I spotted all of the little painted red and white painted markers that identified the trail. And when these ran out, I remembered my Cub Scout Training and made a few little crosses out of twigs in the unlikely event that I should lose my way. And when the path really narrowed, and it got really dark (and everything inside of me said “Turn back!”) I pressed on up the mountain. 

What happened next is what I shall refer to as an “herbaceous mirage.” That is, as I looked through the dense forest, it looked like a rough kind of path was in front of me but as I ran toward it and then looked back, it was clear that there was no path at all. At this point I still didn’t realize I was nowhere near any path! This went on for about an hour and a half by which time I was completely disorientated, and only then did it begin to dawn on me that I might be just a little bit lost. So, I just kept on running… with progressively more stumbling, tripping and full-on falling over. It won’t be a surprise to you to learn that I did pray a bit. My prayer was something along the lines of, “Please Lord, this is not going terribly well, my family is expecting me for breakfast, so please could you bless my best attempts to get myself out of here!”

And then I came up against a wire fence with barbed wire curled around the top. Hallelujah! This was the first “non-thorny shrub/tree” I had seen in over two hours. I quickly imagined a scenario that somebody must have built this fence so there must be a road nearby and if I can find a road and I can make it home. That was when I noticed that my legs were bleeding into my running shoes from all the thorns that had embedded themselves into my calves. This was also the moment when I was pretty sure I heard the ominous snorting of wild carnivorous boar. And this was absolutely the moment that I witnessed the six hundred foot precipice that was just on the other side of the wire fence. These circumstances kind of kick-started a new kind of prayer.

The curious thing was that while crashing into this dead-end certainly felt like the absence of God, it was actually the beginning of being found. I had now stopped running. My prayer had changed from simply a petition that the Lord bless my best attempts to fix the situation myself, to a desperate cry for rescue. It was only then that  I noticed a single white polythene strip tied to a tree: just maybe someone had put it there? So, I walked in that direction for about ten minutes (which was indeed a kind of test of faith) until I found a second little white plastic tree ornament. It was like following plastic breadcrumbs and when these dried up, I suddenly spotted a little red and white painted marker, and then another one and then another and then an opening. I felt sunshine on my face for the first time in over three hours. I now recognized a small dirt road that was just five minutes from our guesthouse. Had I been able to jump with joy I would have done. I looked up to say, “Thank you” and saw, for the first time, that this entire debacle had taken place under the shadow of the cross. I know that is the kind of thing you expect me to say – but literally – on the top of the adjacent mountain was a very large cross!

As I walked free of those dark woods it was so clear that God had come looking for me. In all my naiveté, I had radically underestimated the extent of the danger I was in.  Jesus said, “My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me.” [John 10:27]. That is so gracious. He could so easily have added, “but not always,” because we both know that I ignored a very keen sense of His wisdom to turn back long before I got into trouble. The Bible reassures me that one day I will be united with God and I will never get lost again. In the meantime, however, neither Jesus nor the apostle Paul ever promised me that I would be perfect (and this is not an invitation for reckless living, but rather a hard reality).  He is gracious, and I see that day by day He, regularly saves me from myself.

The Lord knew that this trip was important to me. After a period of too much illness and too many surgeries, I wanted to reassure my family that I was fully present, alive and well, and that I loved them. As I stumbled out from the woods it struck that my heavenly Father is led by exactly the same desire!

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What About The Meek?

In his newspaper column, Bill Farmer (the voice of Disney’s Goofy) reported that a certain J. Upton Dickson was writing a book entitled Cower Power. Mr. Dickson had also founded a group for submissive people called DOORMATS – the mnemonic for “Dependent Organization of Really Meek and Timid Souls — if there are no objections.” Their motto was “The meek shall inherit the earth — if that’s okay with everybody” and they selected the yellow traffic light as the group’s symbol. This might be funny except the word meek is open to exactly this sort of misunderstanding. Because the words rhyme, “meekness” gets unfairly linked to “weakness.” Supporting that premise, the Merriam Webster definition of meek includes “deficient in spirit and courage: submissive.” Synonyms include “submissive, yielding, compliant, tame, biddable, tractable, acquiescent, deferential, timid, un-protesting, unresisting… like a lamb to the slaughter.”

And yet Jesus tells us, “Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.” (Matthew 5:5). What does meekness have to do with God? I want to offer three Biblical portraits of this word in action that I hope will bring us closer to a Godly understanding of this quality.

We can be reasonably certain that the beatitude described at Matthew 5:5 (“Blessed are the meek”) is an allusion to this verse in Psalm 37: “But the meek shall inherit the land and delight themselves in abundant peace.” (Psalm 37:11). Psalm 37 describes what God requires of us in terms of meekness. Meekness begins with trusting God (verse 5b). Biblical meekness is securely rooted in a deep confidence that God is for us and not against us. Second, we are to commit our way to God (verse 5a). The Hebrew word for “commit” means literally “to roll.” To exercise meekness is therefore to decide that God is trustworthy and to roll all our affairs to Him — all our problems, relationships, health, fears, and frustrations. Third, Psalm 37 adds to the definition of meekness the quality of stillness before the Lord, the capacity to wait patiently for Him, to be free of frenzy. John Piper wrote this of such a stillness: “a kind of steady calm that comes from knowing that God is omnipotent, that He has [our] affairs under His control. He is gracious and will work things out for the best.” And, finally, meekness does not give way to anger and fretfulness when faced with opposition and setback (verse 8).

These qualities that come to define meekness can be seen in evidence in the life of Moses. Numbers 12: 1-4 records Miriam and Aaron’s harsh and outspoken criticism of Moses on an issue. What is noteworthy here is that sandwiched between their accusations and the Lord’s vindication of Moses is this line: “Now the man Moses was very meek, more than all people who were on the face of the earth.” (Numbers 12:3). Why this insertion? Why bring up Moses’ meekness at the precise moment before the Lord intervenes and defends him? We are being shown (as we learned in Psalm 37) that meekness is committing your cause to God and trusting in God’s vindication. Moses doesn’t say a word. Instead, he waits for the Lord. And the Lord does not disappoint him. J.I. Packer made an interesting observation regarding the strength of Moses’ meekness: “Moses was a man with a fierce temper — it was this which had betrayed him during the time in the wilderness — but when God said, in effect, ‘Now look, Moses, in order to teach the whole world how much loss sin can bring, I’m not going to let you enter the land; the people will go in, but you won’t,’ he did not curse God in furious protest; quietly, if sadly, he accepted God’s decision. That’s meekness. Meekness, for a child of God, means accepting uncomplainingly what comes, knowing that it comes from the hand of God who orders all things. What He sends, we accept in faith even if it hurts, knowing that it’s for our and others good.”

Finally, I want to turn to the book of James. We read, “Know this, my beloved brothers: let every person be quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger… receive with meekness the implanted word, which is able to save your souls.” (James 1: 19, 21b). The quality of meekness that is being referenced here is teachability. John Piper adds, “To receive the Word with meekness means that we don’t have a resistant, hostile spirit when we are being taught.”

Meekness does not mean that we will never get angry. James 1:19 encourages us to be “slow to anger,” not that we should never experience anger. Jesus said of himself, “I am meek and lowly in heart” (Matthew 11:29) yet the New Testament includes references to His righteous anger (Mark 3:5). And, of course, Jesus famously drove the merchants out of the temple and turned over their tables (Matthew 21: 12-13). Meekness is not the absence of righteous passion and a desire for justice. Biblical meekness would guard against our developing hair-triggers!

Fortunately, meekness is not a quality that we are supposed to conjure up ourselves or pull up from within us. It is a fruit of the Holy Spirit. In writing to the churches of Galatia, Paul knew that the community was deep in personal conflict. Indeed, he referred to their behavior as “biting and devouring each other” (Galatians 5:15). He did not urge them to simply pull themselves together. His exhortation was that they “walk by the Spirit” (Galatians 5:16). Paul went on to describe how the Holy Spirit would transform their hearts and lives. “But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance: against such there is no law.” (Galatians 5: 22-23 King James Version)

This blog causes me to ask myself how I respond to difficult truth, challenge or opposition. How teachable am I? Where am I placing my trust? The answer to these questions (when I see my shortfall) should not prompt me to simply try harder. My response is to accept Jesus’ invitation to acknowledge my fault, receive His mercy, and in stillness and quiet, trust Him to fill me with His Spirit. That would be a response directed by Spirit-led meekness.

Let me give the final word to A.W Tozer: “The meek man is not a human mouse afflicted with a sense of his own inferiority. Rather he may be in his moral life as bold as a lion and as strong as Samson; but he has stopped being fooled about himself. He has accepted God’s estimate of his own life. He knows he is as weak and helpless as God declared him to be, but paradoxically, he knows at the same time that he is in the sight of God of more importance than angels. In himself, nothing; in God, everything. That is his motto.”

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One of the Largest & Most Vibrant Churches in Our Diocese

The Anglican Diocese of New England remains full of extraordinary God-centric surprises! Canon Brian Bethke and I drove 130 miles yesterday to visit a church that meets on Saturdays. With a congregation of over 200 people, this is one of our larger ADNE church families. It was so good to be with them. They worshipped with all of their hearts. They shared bread and wine together, praying the liturgy with real conviction. They read the word together and the word was preached with passion. The entire congregation leaned in and audibly sounded their agreement. They took up an offering. They prayed for their city. They prayed for each other. And at the close of the service, they had lunch together – some really good soup and fresh bread. I have to add that their coffee was spectacular. I learned later that a local supplier had sourced and provided the best coffee in the city. I am a something of an expert on church coffee and let me tell you, this really was exceptionally good!

In many ways, I am sure that our own Sunday experience is not entirely dissimilar.  Except this church has no roof, no walls, no pews or chairs. Instead, they meet on the steps of City Hall in Hartford every Saturday morning come rain, freezing rain, snow blizzard, hail, or blistering heat and the large majority of its members are homeless.

Sharing Holy Communion with our church family in Hartford that morning was deeply moving. Bruised and cold hands, shaped by the harshness of the elements, reached out for the sacrament. Prayer pervaded every moment of their time together. At one point in the service church members were encouraged to huddle up in groups of three, laying hands upon each other and praying with power and compassion. Prayers of this nature broke out all of the time; in the coffee line, standing together with soup or in the line for clean clothing.

At one point, they invited me into the middle and prayed for me as their Bishop. The man who prayed for me had recently given his life to the Lord. My intercessor was homeless and had given his life to the Lord in prison. The presence of the Holy Spirit was profound. There was a particular quality of glorious silence that fell, as we celebrated communion, that spoke to me of the inbreaking of heaven.

As the service drew to a close, spontaneous worship broke out as a young man called Eric (whose father had died that week) sang, “You are here, touching every heart, I worship you, I worship you. You are here, healing every heart. I worship you, I worship you. You are here turning lives around, I worship you, I worship you. You are here Mending every heart. I worship you, I worship you.”

The entire operation was seamless. I met two members of the leadership at a U-haul storage facility, just a few miles outside the city. A U-haul truck was packed to perfection with open-sided tents, tables, coffee, food, and clothing. As we arrived in the van, the volunteer set-up team had already assembled in front of County Hall in readiness. We stood in a circle, introductions were made, and we prayed together.  Many of the set-up team were themselves home-less. Within fifteen minutes the contents of the truck were unloaded, and the church rose up out of the cold, concrete sidewalk. A sound system was assembled together with a fold-out communion table complete with chalice and patent that was set before a small iron cross. Tables were unpacked, unfolded and positioned under the open tents to keep coffee, soup, and sandwiches dry.

And in this simple but extraordinarily thoughtful process, the Lord established a place where his Spirit began the work of recovering the beauty and nobility of the image of God, in each person. This included the simple grace of holding out the dignity of choice. What kind of sandwich would you like? Would you like cream and sugar with your coffee? I was helping distribute new underwear to the guys. They got to choose – boxers or briefs? The simple task of asking someone who feels forgotten and has lost sight of themselves, what they would prefer, was a simple but beautiful act of recovering God’s image buried within them.

This remarkable ministry started with just one-man, ADNE clergyman, Reverend Bryan Bywater.

This one man, with one fold-out table, and a broken heart for the forgotten and the marginalized also had faith that, if we came together, in the power of God, we could really can make a difference. The problem is when the Bible says, “you” we have a tendency to take it as “me” when we should take it as “we.” In God’s power and leading, we are supposed to work in this together. This is now gloriously evidenced by the large number of volunteers, including students and older children, who now come each Saturday to worship and serve as part of this church family.

One lady told me that she had felt God’s call to join this church fellowship for some time and yet Saturday was always crowded with other demands. At the same time, she asked the Lord, “But if I came, what could I possibly do? She prayerfully sensed the Lord encourage her, “My prayer, poured out upon your heart and lips – is the prayer that keeps them alive until you pray for them again the following week.” She is now there every week and men and women wait patiently in the cold to have her pray with them. She knows them by name and by heart.

If Hartford were not quite such a drive, do you think you might be persuaded to be a part of one of the largest churches in the Diocese? And yet, maybe we don’t need to drive 130 miles to be part of a church like this? What if we let the Spirit take the lead and asked him where to set up His table? What miracles is He longing to perform through His presence in us – if we had the courage to step out in faith? How many more might know His life, through His prayer, poured out upon our hearts and lips? Is it possible that God is calling us to build church family for the outcast, the prisoner and the homeless up and down New England? Can any of us think of a city or town in New England where this kind of vibrant street church is not desperately needed?

Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you drink? And when did we see you a stranger and welcome you, or naked and clothe you? And when did we see you sick or in prison and visit you?’ 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 it to me.”

As I was headed back to the welcome warmth of my car (my feet so cold, I could no longer feel them), I noticed three Street Church members sat on a low wall. A young man with an older man and woman. The older lady asked me if I would pray for her arthritic knee and so we stopped. After we had prayed, she asked me if I had anything to eat. I said we had given everything away but before I could say another word, the young man (also homeless) reached into his back-pack and reassured her, “Don’t worry you can have my sandwich. I was saving it for later, but here, you take it.” Here is the church of Jesus Christ, alive and serving on the streets of Hartford. Jesus is where He always said He would be. The only question is, are we willing to join Him?