Tangible Acts of Love

A few days before Christmas, my phone buzzed with a text message. “Ho, ho, ho,” it read. “Santa made a special delivery. Check your front porch. Ho, ho, ho. Merry Christmas!”

I opened the front door and looked down at a sizable red-and-white gift bag with tissue paper billowing from its top. It contained a plethora of festive items: Little Debbie Christmas Tree Cakes, a holiday tea sampler set, some fun measuring spoons, a Bible verses coloring book and a box of new colored pencils, a reading journal, a loaf of homemade cranberry nut bread. As I pulled out each item, it was as good as a comforting hug. It was the best thing that had happened that week, because it was a tangible act of love.

You see, my husband had left a few days before on a TDY (Temporary Duty Assignment). He’s spending the next four months working abroad, and while this isn’t my first deployment rodeo, it’s not easy facing one during Christmastime. The empty chair at our table, the extra household chores, the lack of parenting back-up all seem more poignant during the holiday season.

We live in an incredibly busy culture, and the all-hands-on-deck approach of previous generations seems to have largely disappeared. A friend of mine who survived cancer a decade or so ago remembers with great fondness and appreciation the crew of church ladies who took turns bringing meals, showing up to watch her kids so she could rest, and running errands for her during the time she was undergoing treatment. They were all her mother’s age or older, and many of them are now deceased. Their legacy seems to have died right along with them, she says.

On the opposite end of the spectrum, a friend in my adult Sunday school class recently underwent major surgery. She was still struggling physically more than a month later. Her husband travels frequently for work, leaving her to shoulder most of the day-to-day load of raising their two kids and running the household. When I asked, she confessed that a few meals would help take the edge off her burden, so I set up a meal delivery schedule for her–and only three people signed up to take meals, out of more than twenty families in our class. One of them was me, and one was the instructor’s wife. I confess, I was shocked. I didn’t know what to think.

Over the past few weeks, I’ve received a lot of “Praying for you!” messages, both in person as well as via text and social media. Simultaneously, I’ve received a few love gifts and acts of service: friends who offer to keep my girls so I can get some time alone or get to my knitting group and book club, Starbucks cards from friends who live too far to be present in person but know how a hot beverage can be a balm to a tired spirit, invitations to dinner and play dates that help me breathe a bit more deeply, lunch date invitations from my working mom friends, text and Voxer inquiries that say, “Tell me how you really are.” While prayers are never unappreciated, it’s the tangible acts of love that bring tears of gratitude to my eyes. These gifts of support are like being embraced by my Savior in person.

Matthew 24: 35-40 says:

“For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me,I was naked and you clothed me, I was sick and you visited me, I was in prison and you came to me.’ Then the righteous will answer him, saying, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you drink? And when did we see you a stranger and welcome you, or naked and clothe you? And when did we see you sick or in prison and visit you?’ And the King will answer them, ‘Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me.’”

Two questions have been revolving in my mind:

1. When did we decide saying, “Praying for you!” is enough to meet the needs of the people in our lives who are struggling?
2. Why is it so difficult to love people in tangible ways? Why aren’t we willing or motivated to show up?

It seems to me that we have lost the ability to (1) see Christ in the people before us, and (2) be Christ to the people before us. How do we get back to this fundamental calling of our faith? How do we take up the mantle of the shepherds in the field who left their flocks to come and worship the infant in the grotto, the wise men with their gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh? How do we take up the mantle of Christ, who called Zacchaeus down from the tree, who ministered to lepers and crippled men, who wept before the tomb of Lazarus?

1 Peter 2:21 says:

“For to this you were called, because Christ also suffered for us, leaving us an example, that you should follow His steps” (NIV).

This is not to dismiss the need to minister to the poor and the needy on a global level. Many Christians provide financial support to ministries around the world or go on mission trips to developing countries where the needs are raw. My family has had two sponsored kids–one who just graduated out of sponsorship–and we give to other ministries and missionaries as well. But this doesn’t replace the call to love the people in front of us, who also have needs, whether they are poor or sick or grieving or just tired and lonely. While it’s true that the gospel is the greatest gift we can give, it doesn’t mean much without hands and feet to carry it.

I am trying to ask myself regularly, “What’s the last tangible act of love or service you committed to?” If I have trouble remembering, or if it’s been a few weeks, I know it’s time to stop in my tracks and look around, beyond myself and my kids and the laundry and the ever-present dilemma of what’s for dinner. Who is wearing the face of Christ in my life right now? Who can I embrace on the Savior’s behalf? A tangible act of love doesn’t have to mean climbing a mountain. A handwritten note of encouragement, pizza delivered to someone’s door, an hour or two of babysitting–all of these are simple enough to accomplish and give traction to the words, “Praying for you!”

I’m writing this tonight from the coffee shop in my neighborhood Barnes & Noble. My cousin, who is visiting this week, gave me the tremendous gift of a few hours to go off and write in peace, undisturbed. Somehow she saw what I needed, and she willingly and graciously offered it to me. By the time I go home, my tank will be refilled by being in this space I’ve been allotted. What a gift.

How about you? Will you be the hands and feet of Jesus for someone–as many someones as you can–today, this week, this year? Will you commit to seeking the face of Christ in the people before you, and in taking up the mantle of Christ in loving service? I pray we can answer the call of 1 Peter 2:21 by giving hands and feet to the gospel of Christ, walking in his steps as we were always and ever meant to do.

Blessings, friends, on your 2019. May it be a year of tangible acts of love.

Harmony Harkema has loved the written word for as long as she can remember. A former English teacher turned editor, she has spent the past nine years in the publishing industry. A writer herself in the fringe hours of her working-and-homeschooling mom life, Harmony also has a heart for leading and coaching aspiring writers. Harmony lives in Memphis with her husband and two small daughters. She blogs at harmonyharkema.com.

Photograph © Free Stocks, used with permission