Tom looked through the glass doors at the old man. There could be no mistaking the glimmer of hope in the leathery old face. A large pale moon struggled in vain to light the sky behind him, as lightning streaked to the ground on the distant horizon.
"Crazy old codger," he mumbled, looking down at the tattered note he’d removed from the bulletin board. Smudged with ink-stains, it read:
"Room and board needed by homeless man.
Will work hard in return for keep.
Please meet outside between six and seven any evening."
Tom turned around, nearly colliding with Helen Wren, and her seven-year-old daughter, Denise.
"Evening, Ladies. Enjoying your respite from the mission fields?" Tom smiled at Denise.
Helen laughed. "Good evening Tom. Yes, thank you. Denise is struggling to adjust to the time change and of course, the culture. But we’ll get there."
Denise looked out the door at the old man, and back at Tom. She stepped forward and took the note from Tom’s hand.
Tom and Helen exchanged glances, as Denise hurried over and pinned the note back on the cork board .
"So, that’s how it keeps getting back up there." Tom shook his head and chuckled.
"I’m sorry, Tom, but you know Denise. Down Syndrome children have a lot of love to share."
"It’s no problem, Helen. I’ll take care of it later. Goodnight."
Turning to walk out the door, he stopped, feeling a tug on his coat.
"King Jesus sad," Denise said.
"What’s that, sweetheart?"
Folding her arms across her chest, she inclined her head toward the old man standing outside the church.
"King Jesus very sad."
Tom grimaced. "Because we won’t help the old man?"
Denise frowned.
"Okay, Denise, you win. After all, it's Christmas Eve. I’ll take him to the shelter on my way home."
Denise grinned and threw her arms around him in a bear-hug.
Helen smiled. "Thanks, Tom. You’ve made her night. I’d take him myself but Don has the car, and Susan is giving us a ride."
Tipping his hat, Tom slipped out the door and hurried to his car. The skies opened up and sheet after sheet of rain began to beat across the pavement. Within seconds he reached the drenched man.
"Get in!" he shouted.
"You’re a good man. Thank you," the man said, slipping into the passenger seat.
"I couldn’t leave you out here on a night like this."
The look on the old man’s face would stay with him until the day he died. The old lips held a bluish tinge and he shivered with cold. But his eyes were warm, and Tom found himself thinking of the times he put seed out for the birds in winter and felt sorry for them shivering in the bare trees. Yet I never went down to the shelter to help feed the people. Shame on me.
A half hour later, they pulled up by the homeless shelter. A large sign posted on the door read "SHELTER FULL - PLEASE PROCEED TO WHITE STREET SHELTER INSTEAD"
"Ill take you there."
The old man looked at Tom. "No thank you, young man. I’ll be fine from here."
Tom smiled. "I haven’t been called a young man in a lot of years. I had my sixtieth birthday last week."
"Happy Birthday." The old man smiled and reached for the door handle.
"Wait," Tom said. "Listen, I’ve heard bad things about the White Street Shelter. Why don’t you come home with me?" Can't believe I'm saying this, but how can I leave him out here? He looked at the old man’s weathered face. "Please, it’s no trouble."
The old man gazed at him for a moment, then withdrew his hand from the door. "Son, that is most kind of you. I will take you up on your offer. I will repay you."
"Not necessary," Tom said. He turned his head slightly. "I guess I should ask your name, though. I’m Tom."
"It is my pleasure to meet you, Tom. My name is Emeth."
After they arrived home, Tom made up the guest bedroom, and found some clothes that fit Emeth. He showed him the laundry and offered to wash his wet clothing. After leaving the man to shower and change, he walked to his kitchen and put some coffee on, mumbling to himself, "My daughter will have a fit when she finds out I let a total stranger stay here with me. But those eyes - to me they say he's an honest man, I'm sure of it."
Having reassured himself, he poured himself a coffee and walked back down the hall. The lights were off in the guest room. Peeking through the door, he saw his guest sleeping. He gently closed the door.
Next morning, over breakfast, Tom invited his guest to accompany him back to the church for the morning service.
Emeth paused, toast in mid-air. "I’d love to, Tom, but I’m not welcome. Your minister came out yesterday and asked me to move along."
"I see," Tom replied. He wanted to protest, but he knew the old man spoke the truth. His guest’s impeccable manners so far, made him wonder how he ever ended up living on the streets. Tom drank the last of his coffee and Emeth began to carry their plates to the sink.
"I’ll do the dishes, Tom. Least I can do, considering your kindness last night. Then I’ll be on my way."
"Where will you go?"
Emeth's face creased with his smile. "Ah, a question without an answer."
Tom shook his head. "No, then, I won’t have it. Please, just stay here with me for a few more days. The weather man said there is another winter storm coming. I can’t let you go back onto the streets."
"If you wish me to stay, I will. But I insist on earning my keep, Tom."
"I’ll think of some way you can help me. Right now, though, I must get to work. Are you sure you’ll be okay?"
The old man grinned, looking up from the sink, where he stood washing the breakfast dishes. "Don’t be concerned. Your dishes are safe with me."
"I’m not, really," Tom said. He scratched his balding head. "Emeth, I have to ask you something though. Are you a veteran?"
Emeth looked up at him. "I fought in the war to end all wars."
Tom smiled. "I thought so. Takes a soldier to recognize one, I guess. See you tonight."
Emeth raised a soapy hand and waved.
Once he arrived at work, Tom didn’t have to wait long to discover everyone had an opinion about his sheltering the old man. He heard story after story of the dangers, irresponsibility and risk. He thanked every one for their concern and went about his work.
After the service, as he collected communion cups, before vacuuming once more, he talked to God, as he often did, when working alone in the Sanctuary.
"Father God, why can’t I feel your Presence here today of all days?" He sighed and wondered how his guest was faring.
***********
The aroma of freshly baked bread, greeted Tom's nose when he stepped into his home. So much for coming back to a stripped and deserted house, like they all said I would.
His guest sat in the rocking chair, beside a crackling fire. A large, neatly stacked pile of split logs sat by the fireplace, off to one side.
"Good afternoon, Tom."
Hello, Emeth. I smell something good."
"Ah, yes, the bread. I thought I would surprise you."
Tears stung Tom’s eyes. How much he missed the smell of his wife’s freshly baked bread. There were no dishes in the sink, and the kitchen floor sparkled.
"Thank you," he whispered.
The old man smiled and continued to rock in the chair.
Later that afternoon, Tom took a nap. He woke to find his guest dusting the bookshelves in the living room.
"You have some interesting titles here," Emeth remarked.
"Thank you," Tom said. "Since my wife died two years ago now, it’s been a lonely life for me. Our daughter lives far away. She won't even be home for Christmas, but she'll call me tonight. I spend a great deal of time reading."
"You read the Good Book often."
"Yes, I do. How did you know?"
Emeth smiled. "It’s not dusty," he said. "Tom, you have a good heart. I think your snowstorm did not arrive. Perhaps, I will accompany you to the evening service."
Tom smiled, hoping his nervousness didn’t show. "Of course. It’s Christmas Day, so the service should be a nice one." He will be with me. That will make a difference. They will see what a good man he is once they speak to him.
When they arrived at church, the parking lot bulged with cars, and teenagers ran around the building chasing each other like preschoolers. Everyone seemed to be enjoying the unusually warm weather for this time of year. The large Christmas tree stood gaily decorated, lights flashing to the side of the entrance. A sign told of the gift exchange to be held prior to the service.
As Tom and Emeth approached the doors, people began to stare. Tom’s cheeks burned.
Isn’t it bad enough no one would help him? Do they have to stare and point as though he were a spectacle in a side show?
Tom leaned over and whispered to Emeth. "Don’t pay any attention to them. There are good people here but we do have some without manners."
Emeth stopped and pointed at the doors. "No, I cannot go in there. I am not welcome."
"This is God’s house. Of course you are welcome," Tom replied. He looked at the entrance to the church and felt ill. There, scrawled above the church’s entrance was a single word - Ichabod.
Tom rubbed his eyes and stared. Ichabod - meaning God's glory has departed. It can't be. People hurried up to them, shouting. He stepped in front of Emeth to shield him. "No! Leave him alone. It’s not his fault. It’s your own doing," Tom yelled.
Still they came, surging around the pair, until Tom lost his balance and fell. Strong arms caught him, preventing his fall. He turned to thank his rescuer.
No longer frail and old, but transformed like a beautiful butterfly leaving an empty chrysalis behind, his friend Emeth stood tall and strong beside him.
Tom’s mouth fell open. People fell to their knees, gasping and crying. Some rejoiced. Others looked on in horror.
The minister spoke first. "J-Jesus," he stammered. "I didn’t know it was You, I mean, I should have known, but I didn’t." He knelt to the ground and covered his face with his hands.
A well dressed woman stepped forward, pushing boldly past the weeping minister. "Lord, you are welcome to stay with us. We would be honored to have you."
A chorus of voices joined in and Tom looked around in amazement.
Jesus placed His arm around Tom’s shoulder, and with the saddest expression Tom had ever seen, He spoke.
"My children, when will you ever understand? Did it have to be Me, before you obey My command? You read My word and yet you still do not understand. You welcome with open arms those who can repay you, but where are the crippled, the poor, the lame and the blind?
"Where are the lost and the lonely? Where are the sick? My home is a house where My love is lived, not just spoken of. Only then am I welcome. You are blind to the naked truth standing before your very souls."
The congregation looked at each other. Jesus came to their door, and they had left Him out on the street.
Jesus turned to Tom. "Come, we must go now."
Tom followed Him without question as a thin teenage girl wearing a set of earphones over her flame-red hair, sauntered past them. Loud rap music blared from her Ipod and she sported a wild, defiant look in her eyes.
"Will You give them another chance, Lord?" Tom asked. He looked over at his shoulder, and up at Jesus again. Jesus smiled and Tom received the answer directly in his heart. He breathed a sigh of relief. His friends would be okay. He smiled thinking about Denise. She knew Him! She even told me his name and yet, I too, was blind.
Back at the church, a minister with a repentant heart, stood on the front steps outside the glass doors, talking to a young girl with red hair. His wife offered the girl a sandwich which she took and ate in three bites. The three of them walked in to the church together.
Above the doors, the scrawled word flickered twice, and vanished.
Instantaneously, a beautiful pure white dove sitting in a nearby tree gave a joyous cry. With spread wings the dove flew straight through the open doors of the Father’s heart into the church.
James 2 verses 12-18 So, whenever you speak, or whatever you do, remember that you will be judged by the law of love, the law that sets you free. For there will be no mercy for you if you have not been merciful to others. But if you have been merciful, then God’s mercy toward you will win out over His judgment against you. Dear brothers and sisters, what’s the use of saying you have faith if you don’t prove it by your actions? That kind of faith can’t save anyone. Suppose you see a brother or sister who needs food or clothing and you say, "well, good-bye, and God bless you; stay warm and eat well" - but then you don’t give that person any food or clothing. What good does that do?
So you see, it isn’t enough just to have faith. Faith that doesn’t show itself by good deeds is no faith at all - it is dead and useless. Now someone may argue "Some people have faith; others have good deeds, but I say, "I can’t see your faith if you don’t have good deeds, but I will show you my faith through my good deeds."
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