Least of These

Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you clothed me, I was sick and you visited me, I was in prison and you came to me…Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me.’” Matthew 25:34-40

I used to read this passage and identified with the “strong” side of the equation, for lack of a better word. I saw myself as the beholder of food, drink, clothes and energy to tend to the sick and imprisoned. And for the most part, I was. Although I knew everything I had was from God, I didn’t feel the constant awareness of how much my life (and others’) depended on His gracious provision. And so my job was to reach out to the least of these as Jesus commanded me to do.

Now I realize, I am the weak one. I am the least of these. I am dependent on others for food I can’t cook correctly, for water carried up huge hills from the valley stream, for appropriate clothing to cultural events, for energy to host visitors for my recovering host mom (she had to go to the emergency room on last Sunday, but praise God she is well now) and even for grace to see genocide perpetrators as my family in Christ. I think this passage was meant to be applied literally.  

I used to interpret this passage as calling me to help the least of these. But now I think it means to be the least of these. If being a Christian means to literally be a “mini-Christ,” then traveling and relying on the grace of fellow Christians is apart of our calling, never mind the Great Commission to go to all the nations.

Now, I’m not saying if you don’t live in another country, you’re not following God’s will. On the contrary, I’m even more convinced now than ever before that there is so much need and injustice in America, and I think Christians need to be engaged in those issues. But I think it’s important to note that no matter where we are or what position in life we are at, it’s so much more dangerous to live in our comfort zone than to live by God’s provision. It’s so, so difficult to live by faith when we feel comfortable.

In many ways, life here is just like back home: it is really tempting and even natural to get into a rhythm and not want to stray from it. Becoming complacent will always be my inclination and my biggest struggle to reject.

I am more and more convinced, however, that living outside of our perceived abilities is how God calls us to live. I always laugh to myself as I read what I prayed for in the morning, and see in the evening how God answered my prayer in a way I never actually wanted.

For example, last Saturday night I prayed God would help me to shift my sense of community to here in Rwanda; that my Rwandese family’s pain would be my pain, and their joy my joy. The next morning I woke up to my host dad telling me my host mom needed to go to the emergency room, so I jumped in the car and spent the next 9 ½ hours with her in the hospital. The next day, I prayed I would learn to love from God’s strength and not my own. That whole day was spent entertaining visitors I couldn’t remember, small talking in Kinyarwanda, and making constant tea runs. My life is filled with these moments where I want to look up to heaven and say, “God, I know you’re just doing what I asked, but really, you had to answer my prayer with more exhaustion?” I guess I keep hoping for a rush of energy that I know is from God, or the gift of speaking in tongues and understanding Kinyarwanda instantly. But instead, God meets me in the struggle. He provides daily, but doesn’t take the strain away. He provides laughter when all I want to do is cry. That is how He gives me strength, by showing me that I have none of my own to give.

So, I am the least of these. We, as human beings, are the least of these. We are all weak. But we can all choose to live by faith with the promise that we will be made strong not in our own abilities, but in the sustaining and healing power of God. I’m learning, through the pain of my pride being scraped away, that God is enough.

This is a song my parents used to sing to me, that becomes more and more relevant to my life:

“What a friend we have in Jesus,

All our sins and griefs to bear!

What a privilege to carry

Everything to God in prayer.

Oh what peace we often forfeit;

Oh what needless pain we bear;

All because we do not carry

Everything to God in prayer!”

**Side note: Theologically speaking, I also know that in many ways I am not the least of these. I have a very privileged life and do not live in extreme poverty as a majority of the world does. The very fact I can choose to live in Rwanda shows how much material wealth I have. So I don’t want to take away the blessing given to the poor. I do want to express my humility in realizing how much I rely on my own inexistent strength.