Did I walk past Jesus?

I’ve been sitting with Matthew 25:31-46 this week because I was preaching on it this past Wednesday evening. A fun, uplifting passage for a mid-week summer service; thank you, lectionary writers.

It’s the passage where Jesus speaks about the sheep and the goats. baa baa baa baa

It’s one of those readings that can make us uncomfortable. Jesus talks about judgment, eternal life, and the startling claim that whatever we do for “the least of these,” we do for Him.

For years, I’ve heard this passage as a challenge to do more. Feed more people. Visit more people. Give more. Serve more.

Those things matter.

But!

What if the point isn’t simply doing more?

What if it’s learning to notice more?

Throughout the Gospels, people are constantly looking for God in the obvious places—the Temple, among the religious leaders, in dramatic miracles. Yet Jesus keeps showing up somewhere else: around dinner tables, beside wells, in fishing boats, among the sick, the lonely, and the forgotten.

Then He says, “When you did it for one of the least of these... you did it for me.”

Ugh.

It seems like, for most of us, the moments when the Spirit meets us probably don’t feel particularly spiritual.

They feel like interruptions.

…the neighbour who catches us just as we’re heading out the door.
…the cashier who seems to need more than a quick “hello.”
…the phone call we weren’t expecting.
…that person who simply wants someone to listen.

Way too often, I can see those moments as inconveniences rather than invitations.

17th-century monk Brother Lawrence spent most of his life working in a monastery kitchen. He believed there was no difference between praying in the chapel and peeling potatoes if both were done with love and an awareness of God’s presence.

That’s a humbling perspective.
I did not have that view the summer I spent in the pot-room at camp.

Most of life isn’t lived in extraordinary moments.
It’s lived in grocery stores, coffee shops, hospital waiting rooms, front porches, church halls, and kitchen tables.

Maybe that’s where the Kingdom of God quietly unfolds.
Maybe that’s where Jesus has been waiting all along.

This passage also reminds me that there are seasons when I’m the one who needs to receive help. I’m much more comfortable giving it than receiving it. But maybe letting someone else care for us is also part of the Gospel. Giving someone else the opportunity to love Christ by loving us. That’s my growing edge.

As I think about the week ahead, I find myself praying something different.
not, “Lord, help me do more.”
but, “Lord, help me notice more.”

Because I suspect most of us won’t miss Jesus because He wasn’t present.
We’ll miss Him because we weren’t looking.

Photo: ‘When I Was A Stranger’ Sculpture at St. Paul’s Bloor Street, Toronto ON, created by Tim Schmalz.