I’ve been devouring story, mostly in movie form, some in paperback or hardcover. There’s so many out there, but I don’t want to settle for believing that I’m hearing them all. I can’t be. There are so many people who don’t get to tell their stories. Very rarely are they given opportunity and the few who are, often don’t know how to tell them.
What’s more is, I want to pay attention to the stories that are happening around me, the ones that permeate my skin every day, and bubble under the surface. It’s fine to watch something like “Blind Side” and be pumped for a day or two about the “Good Samaritan”, life changing opportunities around us, but what about getting excited enough to take one or make one, oh wha-ta-heck – what about recognizing one?
Recently, while seeking first the Kingdom, I heard two words “harvest field”. I’m a visual person and expected to have my eye’s appetite wet with heavy wheat on a rolling hill, instead I saw a cemetery. There was a fence right in front of me, kind of like the type you would tie something to, not high, not even a deterrent for entry, and yet a crowd stood behind it and observed people stepping into open graves.
I heard another word “help”. I squeezed my eyes shut as tight as I could for fear one of them would turn and show their face. I saw an arm, perhaps even mine, extending a shovel.
Now that’s a story that’s happening here. Opportunities right before our eyes to love our neighbor and instead we’re allowing them to self destruct. They need help, and instead of doing what ever it takes to meet their needs, to share with them, we’re handing them shovels to dig their own graves.
What are you offering today, a helping hand or shovel?