Day 34: Who Are the Least of These?

Matthew 25:40 “The king will reply, I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.”

Over twenty years ago, I took my first dental mission to the highlands of Sierra Madre del Sol. Exhausted from interminable days of hard work, I plopped down on a cliff edge to rest and rejuvenate. The sun was just beginning to hide its head behind the soaring peaks; without natural light our primitive clinic had closed: no electricity. It did not matter; with the merciless heat, body aches, and lack of adequate resources I could not work another minute.

After days of treating impoverished villagers isolated from the modern world, I was ready to throw in the towel. Thankfully, there was a short break before dinner that night. Over-heated, discouraged, and frustrated I just wanted to be alone.

I can’t go on. And what difference does it make anyway? Am I really helping? My alone time was abruptly interrupted when a six or seven year old boy boldly sat down beside me. I gave him a cursory glance, but his eyes sparkled back as he smiled a crooked grin.

I remember him. Brave little guy; probably still numb. What’s his name? He had not fussed at all when his teeth were pulled, which was not unusual: all these folks were stoic. He began talking… in Chinentaco. I can sometimes follow a little Spanish but not the local dialect.

So much for quietly enjoying God’s majestic handiwork. He stood and reached out to take my hand. Reluctantly I followed suite, groaning to get up as my back cracked in protest. His tiny hand tugged on mine, and we began a tour of the terraced village. Huts were perched so close to the edge that they seemed to hover in midair. Pointing out things of interest, he laughed and talked nonstop. It was infectious. We strolled—I strolled, he skipped—from one glorious vista to another.

Getting into it, I told him how beautiful his village was. He giggled at the sound of my funny words: I could not help but laugh back. We were having a great time, jabbering away without knowing the words, yet somehow understanding each other.

That is when I looked more closely. His clothes were ragged and threadbare. No shoes. Just like all the other kids. There was a faded but nasty scar on his left cheek. He was clean and dirty at the same time – a fruitless attempt had been made at hygiene. I must have looked the same, having gone without a shower in over a week.

We approached a swinging bridge. I hate heights, and he laughed at my hesitation. That is where I took his picture. Looking through the viewfinder I realized he was about the same age as my son, Billy. My eyes watered… homesick, grateful, and sad, all at the same time. After crossing the chasm we went to meet his large family. They lived in a dingy, thatched-roof hut with a dirt floor. Before leaving, his mom insisted that I accept a hot tortilla, fresh from a stone oven – a small gift from a big heart.

That night the missionary projected the Jesus Film on a whitewashed, adobe wall. Most villagers had never seen electricity and were mesmerized by the moving pictures. But more than that, they were moved by the message; God loves us so much that He came to die as atonement for our sins and … He conquered death.

My little friend was among a number of people who came forward to accept Jesus as their Savior. Although the next day was just as hot, and there was the same endless line of people waiting for treatment, the workload somehow seemed lighter.

Several days later we left the village just before dawn. Riding a mule down the treacherous mountain trail, I turned for one last look, and there he was… a tiny figure standing in the mist, waving goodbye and smiling. That is all it took for me to be certain that God had called me to serve in this place and at this time.

Who are the least of these?
• Those who can’t pay the bills?
• People down on their luck?
• Folks lacking adequate shelter, food, or clothes?
• The drug addict, alcoholic, compulsive gambler, prisoner?
• People with little or no faith?
All of the above, and many more.

And where can they be found? Everywhere: next door and around the world. And lest we become complacent, peruse the end of the chapter:

Mathew 25:44-45 “Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or needing clothes or sick or in prison, and did not help you? He will reply, ‘I tell you the truth, whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me.’”

Lord, I pray that I will always listen for your prompting and be ready to serve where You would have me.

~Jim Rhea