I served in our local soup kitchen yesterday. It was my third time. It's all pretty practical mundane stuff. You put food on plates, greet people, then clean up.
That's what I thought the first time I served... kinda boring... not the flashy, creative kind of thing I normally like doing.
But the last two times I served, I was deeply moved. These people we serve... in a "previous life," I would have either severely judged or pitied them. But I would not have desired a relationship with them. (This is a confession, don't judge me. God has forgiven me.) Now though, they touch my soul, and I truly want to know them. (I thank my precious loved one for this gift.)
As I wipe down tables and chairs after they've gone, I pray. I worship. And it sometimes takes my breath away. Little sobs try to make their way from my heart to my lips.
I am unworthy. I am unworthy to serve these precious ones.
“And the King will say, ‘I tell you the truth, when you did it to one of the least of these my brothers and sisters, you were doing it to me!’ Matthew 25:40