The Lesson of Love

By Robert Conard

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     My wife and I were eating in a small town restaurant recently. We visit the little town quite frequently. This particular day as we were eating, a middle-aged woman and three teenagers entered. The restaurant was crowded, as usual, which left only a table next to ours at which the group was seated. My attention was completely captured by the meal, therefore I failed to notice anything different in these people as compared to the others seated about.

     My interest was soon diverted, however, as the woman began to talk in a loud

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voice. Her tone and conversation were somewhat like those of a person who has had too much to drink. The subjects spoken about were quite foolish and childish and quite out of place in a public eating establishment.

     I soon was overcome with the feeling that people were staring at me, or rather in the direction I was sitting, for it seemed that this foolish woman with her three teenagers had attracted the attention of everyone in the building. It embarrassed me to be close by. I found myself crowding in my seat as far from them as possible, as if to say, "Hey everybody, don't associate me with that crazy woman." I also felt sorry for the teenagers, who were surprisingly, very neatly dressed and possessed a politeness and gentleness that is seldom instilled in today's youth. I assumed that they were her children, for why else would they be there?

     The waitress soon approached, immediately recognized them, and to my surprise, spoke to the teenagers rather than the woman. "Will there be any more today?" she asked. "If this isn't all," I wondered, "what was the rest of the family like?" She took their order and left them again to their conversation, or rather to the woman's loud oration; and I crouched slowly in my seat, not being satisfied with the distance between us.

     As their food was set before them the conversation stopped, and to my complete surprise they bowed their heads to thank the Lord for their meal. With this startling event I began to pay close attention and soon the realization came that made me crouch even lower in my seat, not with embarrassment at being close to such a person, but in my own shame.

     Had I been so busy in the past with the legal operations of the church, and attacking doctrinal windmills with the zeal of Don Quixote, that my eyes were blinded to a display of Christ's love not more than a few feet from me? Had I fallen so far away that I couldn't even recognize the work of my Lord? These three teenagers were not her children, but were Christians! And this woman was not foolish or drunk; she was mentally ill and in need of understanding!

     Now paying much closer attention I learned that these teenagers, seeming to care nothing about the eyes staring at them, were from a local Christian congregation; and that each week they took as many people as would come or as their budget would allow to this restaurant to give them a nice meal and to break the monotony of nursing home life. Yes, these kids were giving up their Saturday to be with this lonely person. They were giving her a day of happiness, a day she could look forward to all week long. All I had given her was silent rebuke.

     It's hard to explain how it feels when you realize that you are on the wrong path, or that something very important is missing in your service for the Lord, but that feeling engulfed me now. These kids had overcome the pride and resulting fear of embarrassment that we all possess, but I had not. And the most obvious reason why they had and I hadn't was the now glaring difference in the amount of love displayed.

     The thirteenth chapter of First Corinthians began to filter into my mind. I had taken care of all the formalities and technicalities I thought necessary for the Lord's work, but I had actually left out the very thing He came here to show us: "For God so loved," the gospel writer records. But I had forgotten. I, in my rush to find scripture defending my doctrinal views, had skipped over my own Lord's words, "If there is this love among you, then all will know that you are my disciples." How many times in the past had I done something completely out of love for my brother, forsaking all other considerations? Where was my compassion, my kindness, my understanding? Did I really grasp the significance of my Lord's love?

     While we finished the food set before us I pondered these thoughts; a spark long dead had finally been rekindled. As my wife and I were leaving the

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restaurant, I looked into the faces of the three young Christians, and I could see a peaceful calm. I looked at the woman, still talking as she ate, and I could see happiness-- wonderful, loving happiness.

     I know very little about what will take place when the Day of Judgment comes, but I think I do know three of God's servants who will never have to ask as those in Matthew 25:45, "Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or ill or in prison, and did nothing for you?"