It was one of those hectic afternoons when our schedule dictated we rush between appointments and practices, and I was driving on a busy thoroughfare to get to our next destination. We sat in the middle of traffic waiting for the green light when we viewed a man on the sidewalk struggling with his motorized wheelchair. His body hunched over and his feeble knees buckled together as he grasped the back of the wheelchair. He was clearly in distress.
Sandwiched between cars and unable to turn, I drove with the traffic once the light turned green. My boys and I were disturbed by what we just saw. What can we do? Even more important, what will we do? We drove three blocks ahead, hitting every agonizing red light in the heavy traffic before we could make a U-turn and travel back to the man.
Cade and Dane exchanged thoughts from the back seat, “I think someone else has seen him and helped him by now.”
Finally, we came to a stop at the top of the hill, where we watched the man still struggling on the sidewalk. The August California sun blazed down on him, and he hadn’t made any visible progress with his stalled wheelchair.
The boys sounded bewildered, “A few hundred people must have passed that man, and no one has stopped to help him.”
Didn’t anyone else see him? Or did everyone see him, but went on with their pressing agendas? Too often I have ignored the internal nudge to put my own endeavors aside, so I’ve committed to responding more quickly.
We turned into a fast-food parking lot, and the boys piled out of the car. AJ, my oldest son who has Down’s Syndrome, walking with his turned-in feet and incurved back, threw his little Cars backpack over his shoulders and struggled down the steep hill to the sidewalk. He didn’t know what this adventure would entail, but he tried eagerly to keep pace with his brothers.
“Can we help you, sir?” I asked the man as he stooped along the busy street.
“Ye-yes,” his words slurred, “the batteries in my wheelchair died, and I need them recharged. If I bring it to that restaurant over there, they have a special plug I can use to charge my wheelchair.”
Staggering around the wheelchair, the gentleman sat back in his seat with a gasp of relief. His forehead and red shirt dripped with sweat as he breathed deeply.
My sons grabbed the sides of the wheelchair and digging their feet into the cement; they began to push. Nothing happened. The three boys pushed with all their might to mobilize the unrelenting wheelchair and its equally tenacious owner. This is what matters most in their lives, I thought. No sports practice or concern for status can replace these boys investing in the life of someone else.
Finally, we arrived at the restaurant, “The only plug that f-f-fits my chair is o-over there” the man directed the boys towards a back corner.
“Excuse us. Excuse us.” My 14-year old, Cade, rearranged tables and chairs as the boys carefully pushed through the dinner crowd. They backed the wheelchair into the corner, shook the man’s hand, and quietly left.
There was no applause that day, and there was no ribbon for their effort, there wasn’t any money raised to complete a mission just blocks away from our home. I invited my sons to tell no one but their Dad about their activities that summer afternoon.
Neither of the boys showed concern about showing up late for soccer practice when we finally arrived at the field. They had just received a profound sense of joy and satisfaction that comes from placing someone else’s needs before their own. I whispered a prayer of thanksgiving as I recognized God was taking them on a journey to experience the fulfillment of living His way.
Jesus replied, “The most important commandment is this: ‘Listen, O Israel! The LORD our God is the one and only LORD. And you must love the LORD your God with all your heart, all your soul, all your mind, and all your strength.’ The second is equally important: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ No other commandment is greater than these.” Mark 12:29-31 NLT
We can easily believe that meaningful service is reserved for expensive trips where one travels miles away to an unfamiliar land. But loving our neighbor is more organic; expressing itself through acts of love while we live our ordinary lives. It often interferes with our plans but surprises us once we recognize we had just enough time for God’s higher purpose.
The comforts of our lives frequently cause me to evaluate whether we serve the way Jesus teaches. Perhaps the simple answer to this burden is that we are free to enjoy the abundance in our lives while prepared to show lavish mercy when a need arises.