My mom is an amazing short-term mission trip planner. I’ve never seen someone more passionate about taking groups of people to third-world countries. When I became a youth minister, I started co-leading trips with her—and we based our mission work around a “mission exposure” model, recognizing that we would have little lasting effect as short-termers, but that the “missional lifestyle” impact on the students could be incredible.
We based our work around one of my favorite scriptural passages found in Matthew 25:31-46. Jesus is talking about how he’ll separate people as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats. The message is clear: We are to pay attention to the needs of others—ALL others. Not just those in our socioeconomic status, not just those of a certain skin color or nationality, not just those who speak the same language or attend the same church.
Jesus paints a pretty gloomy picture for those who don’t care for those around them—and he drives home the point, saying that it’s about caring for “the least of these”…people whom others have cast away: The oppressed, abused, neglected, abandoned, elderly, widowed, orphaned, unemployed, homeless, depressed, downtrodden, and poor. But not only them. We also are called to care for the drunkards, prostitutes, and child abusers; the dropouts, junkies, and gang bangers; the greedy, corrupt, and abusers of power.
This is the heart of the gospel. It really is.
Many of us like to believe that the heart of the gospel has to do with our own salvation, but I believe that’s a selfish perspective. I believe the heart of the gospel has to do with salvation for ALL, which means we have a responsibility that goes way beyond our own professions of faith.
I’m not advocating “works righteousness” or “salvation through works.” Nothing we do will ever be good enough.
Fortunately, Jesus took care of that a couple thousand years ago. The question is, then, How do we respond to that kind of amazing love? The answer lies in this passage from Matthew. If we really get it—that God loves us enough to die for us—then we will want to do the kinds of things advocated in this passage.
As youth ministers, we need to be aware that it’s not just about us serving students, though. Our role is to help them become aware of the needs out there that they can attend to right now—not one day down the road when they’re older. We want to encourage lifestyles of sacrificial service that will make following the Matthew 25 example a “no duh.”
On one of those trips my mom and I led to Jamaica, we visited St. Monica’s Home for the Abandoned Elderly. How’s that for a name just brimming with positivity and hope? There, we met Sam—a blind man with nubs where his fingers used to be and only a couple of holes in his head where his nose used to be. Sam was one of the last surviving members of an old leper colony; leprosy had eaten away many of his extremities before antibiotics stopped the progression. Sam is the most poignant physical representation of “the least of these” I’ve ever met.
Yet when we visited him, his countenance was bright as he praised God for bringing him visitors from overseas. He began reciting Scripture verses and poetry, singing songs and inviting us to sing along. Not a one among us could watch this man without weeping—out of wonder at his faith, out of sadness for his plight, and out of guilt over how much we take for granted.
We went hoping to experience what it would be like to serve the least of these, and we found ourselves being ministered to in ways beyond our wildest dreams. May God bless you as you—and your students—serve the least of these in Jesus’ name.