I Had a Visitor

When I was a child I loved to read biblical stories.

On many a Sunday morning, while the preacher droned on and on, I would flip my bible to the Old Testament and read amazing stories of adventure, intrigue and miracles. I loved reading about Samson's amazing strength, or Daniel's steadfast faith in God. Part of me wondered whether those fantastic stories could be true, but the faith drummed into my mind since birth made me believe.

The New Testament never interested me as a child. Sure, I now view it as a treasure trove of life lessons, but back then, the New Testament seemed like a bunch of confusing stories and long speeches. Jesus did a lot of miracles and spoke many parables, but their storylines didn't have the same panache of those in the Old Testament.

However, even in my youth, the New Testament did offer me many things to ponder. I've always struggled with Christ's call to love my enemies and make myself a servant to all. No matter how much I pray, my natural mind rebels at the idea of loving people who despise me or wrong me.

In fact, there is one New Testament passage that has puzzled and frightened me for a long time. In Matthew 25, Jesus teaches that in the time of judgement, God will speak to many righteous people and tell them that when he came to them for succor, they turned their backs on him. As the text states, most people will protest that they would never do such a thing to God, but then God will point out that whenever they turned their backs on anyone in need, it was the same as doing so to God.

See, that really bothers me.

I am typically not an evil or unkind man, but I must admit that my heart can be hard when it comes to assisting panhandlers or others who seek monetary assistance. I'm not sure whether it's just my stingy nature, or if I have a real issue with beggars, but I rarely give money to strangers.

But, a recent occurrence made me question that mentality. This weekend I was visiting my parents, and late Friday night there was a knock at their door. That was an abnormal occurrence because my parents were not expecting visitors, and they live in a semi-rural area that makes it highly unlikely that anyone would be knocking on their door by mistake.

As I walked to the door, I called out asking "Who is it?" In response, I heard an unfamiliar male voice cry out "It's me."

That response kind of pissed me off. I thought it was ridiculous that someone would knock on the door that late at night, and respond with "It's me" when questioned. Having watched far too many bad action movies, I am always skeptical about looking out of the peephole because I expect someone to shoot me through it. Consequently, my only option was to open the front door to a stranger.

Anyway, at the door, I saw an older white man, somewhat disheveled, standing on my parents' porch. I asked the man what I could do for him, and he launched into a spiel about how he and his crippled friend, who was "right outside", needed assistance. He wanted my family's help.

I must admit that I lost it a little bit. I found it insulting that at 10 p.m., this man had the audacity to walk up to my parents' house, walk through their screened in porch and knock on their door requesting money. I thought it was rude and unacceptable behavior, and I told the man that he knew better, and knew he was wrong to do something like that. The gentleman sputtered something else about his friend before sheepishly leaving the porch.

And I've felt bad ever since.

As soon as my parents asked me what was going on, God touched my heart. He brought to my remembrance that passage from Matthew 25, and He pricked my soul to the point where I openly wondered to my family whether I had just turned Jesus away from the door. I walked outside with my father to look for the man, but, as we peered up and down the dimly lit street, he appeared to be gone.

I don't know whether I turned away God or a brazen beggar, but in my heart I feel like I betrayed all the Christian ideals I hold dear. It's just like when I pull up to a red light and refuse to meet the eyes of the homeless people panhandling at intersections in New Orleans. Mentally, I struggle with determining my duty as a child of God.

What is the Christian thing to do?

Does God require that we open our wallets to anyone that asks? If we are supposed to make decisions based on the spiritual cues n our hearts, how can we be certain that our own personal preferences aren't overriding God's will? If the Bible tells us to be good stewards over all of our possessions, does that include handouts?

I'm looking for some clarity, tell me what you think.

(Those of you who aren't Christians are welcome to reply based on your own personal guidelines.)