The lasting impact of simple acts of kindness

I like the five questions in Bible storytelling. What do I like about this story? What do I not like? Which character do I most identify with? What does this story tell me about God? How can I apply this story to my life?

I've been thinking about a story Jesus taught just before His arrest and crucifixion. He speaks of coming again “in His glory” and gathering the nations as a “shepherd separates the sheep from the goats.” He tells the sheep to “inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world.”

Then come the familiar lines — "I was hungry and you gave Me something to eat; I was thirsty, and you gave Me something to drink; I was a stranger and you invited Me in; naked, and you clothed Me; I was sick, and you visited Me; I was in prison, and you came to Me.”

The people in the story are incredulous. They ask, “Lord, when?” Surely, they would remember doing these kindnesses for Him. He answers in a way no one expects. “To the extent that you did it to one of the least of these brothers of Mine, you did it to Me.”

The goats had the same opportunities, but they did nothing. Jesus has strong words for them — something I never want to hear from Him — “Depart from Me.” There comes a moment when even a patient, loving God rejects those who have rejected Him.

I also see that the ones the world labels as “least,” Jesus calls His brothers — even uniting in such a way as to say if I have helped them, I have helped Him. Here I learn there is no loving act too insignificant in God's sight. There is no person who is too insignificant.

As I consider this story, the obvious questions are do I have an inventory of looking out for others? How often does it occur? Do I pick and choose? The answers are "yes," "not often enough" and "sometimes."

When my husband and I moved to Minnesota, I asked at our new church if there was a widow who was alone and would like regular visits. I met Delores on a blustery September day, walking from her modest burgundy house to her mailbox, a scarf over her ears. She and I had 12 years together — until she was 88 years old. Our friendship is one of the highlights of my life.

There is a work to which I contribute in Kenya. I heard the story of Joseph — one of the original children in Open Arms Village. He was orphaned at 6. For five years he survived on the streets, sleeping in a tree at night. He'd never been to school when he came to live at Open Arms at age 11 where he attended their Academy. Last fall, he graduated from Nairobi University, testing in the top two percent of Kenyans nationwide.

There is so much need to meet “for the least of these.” And while I am at it, I cannot overlook that I am one in this crowd. I like how Jesus zeroes in on the sheep in this parable. He's all about the heart — and they have huge hearts. I am deeply saddened for the ones He describes as goats — the ones with scarce, even empty hearts.

It is hard to envision Jesus' declaration — “inherit the kingdom prepared for you” — from earth's hazy view. But the fact that He said it makes it true. And the fact that it is populated with the “least” — His brothers — makes it a place I want to be.

Carol Shirk Knapp is the author of "The Preacher's Kid" column.