I wondered what happened to my faith and my fervor and my absolute belief in the Bible and the existence of God and heaven. I wondered when everything got so messed up for me, and why I have such ambivalence to the idea of putting on some nice pants and going to church on Sunday.
The church family's little boy spilled some rice, and the young man handed them his extra napkins.
I wonder if he'll ever know how much his actions spoke to me this Sunday.
I am reminded of this verse that I think speaks so clearly to Amy's essay:
If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. And if I have the gift of prophecy and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith so as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. And if I give all my possessions to the poor, and if I deliver my body to be burned, but have not love, it profits me nothing. (1 Corinthians 13:1-3)
If we have not love, we have nothing. Feel God's love for you. Revel in it. Then you can't help but spill it out on to others, like the man in Amy's post.
I love the way she wrote about her experience. If someone encountered you at a restaurant on a Sunday afternoon, what might their impression be?
x-posted from my personal blog