Seeing Christ in a Praline
Modern Christians are frequently concerned with being more "Christ-like," but I think we often ignore the little ways in which we can see Christ in our day-to-day lives and follow those same principles. Recently, I was able to see Christ in a simple praline.
Now, before we get started, I'm not trying to boast about my own charity. I'm well aware of the caution against that; "but when you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing" (English Standard Version, 2016, Matthew 6:3). It was a $4 praline. I'm just trying to illustrate how we can pay attention to those around us a bit more, and be more like Christ each day.
A few weeks ago, I went to Kilwins to get a caramel apple for my wife for Valentine's day. While I was there, I started eyeing the pralines. They looked so good, and if I was already making a purchase, why not get something for myself while I was there? I decided to buy one.
This was extremely unusual. When I worked in downtown Greenville and went into the office regularly, I went by Kilwins once a week. Kati loves caramel apples, and I am a firm believer in the mantra of "happy wife, happy life." Every week, I would buy a caramel apple and bring it home to her. My weekly trips were so consistent, one of my engineers pointed out that I could have bought an Oculus with all those apples. Suffice it to say, I was there a lot - dozens of times at minimum.
In all my trips to Kilwins, I could count the number of times I bought something for myself on one hand. Sure, their various offerings looked great, but I wasn't there for myself. I would very rarely pick up a chocolate coated pretzels or praline for myself, but that was very uncommon. I almost always just bought a single apple. In this particular instance, I bought a praline.
As I left Kilwins, I passed a homeless guy on the bench outside. "Hey, man. Those are really good, aren't they?" Yeah, man. "Could I get one?" Sorry, man, I only bought enough for my wife. I lied.
Funny, isn't it - how easily a lie comes off the tongue when we're just trying to get out of a conversation with someone? Sure, the apple was for my wife. That praline, though? That was all me. I bought enough for her AND me, point blank.
I continued down the sidewalk, but I recalled a very specific and relevant memory. A few years prior, I was walking down the very same sidewalk with a loaf of Stecca bread from the Swamp Rabbit Cafe pop-up store. The shop was within walking distance, so I would occasionally run by to pick up a loaf or two on my lunch break and take it home.
On my way back to work, I passed by a guy on a bench who seemed to be clearly homeless: tattered clothes, a bushy beard, a vaguely unclean odor. It was common downtown, and most of the time, I just ignored them. I got a few blocks away before it occurred to me that I could've shared my bread. How fitting, breaking bread with a stranger with the possibility of sharing my faith.
At this point, I was a good piece away from the guy, and I was on somewhat of a time crunch to get back to work. I vowed that the next homeless person I passed, I would either share my bread with them, or I would buy them some food if it was another day. This was several years prior, and I hadn't explicitly run into a homeless person where I could offer food since. I never made good on my promise.
Back in the present, this revelation hit me like a ton of bricks. I never followed through on that charitable intention. In many cases, I think Christ speaks to us through our thoughts. There wasn't any kind of external stimulus, this was just a thought that occurred to me at the perfect time internally. In the words of Joan of Arc, "how else would God speak to me, if not through my imagination?"
I made it a few steps further and considered that I should buy something for that homeless guy. I paused and meditated on it a bit further. No, I should just give him mine.
I crossed back over the street and marched up to the guy on the bench. "Hey man, I had an extra," much closer to the truth. I gave him my praline and told him to have a good one.
Should I have talked to him about religion? Maybe, but the Bible calls us to be kind to the poor regardless of faith or creed (ESV, 2016, Proverbs 14:31). Should I have implored him to get clean from any substance abuse? No chance. "Judge not, that you be not judged" (ESB, 2016, Matthew 7:1). It isn't my place to condemn this guy for his past or present, I'm simply here to meet a need where I can.
I'm not sure why that guy was in the situation where I found him, but it doesn't matter. I saw in him Christ in the wilderness, someone in need. In that brief moment, having an extra bit of candy that I would almost never have purchased, I saw the opportunity to provide for a need and I took it. If we were all aware of needs like that and more eager to meet them, the world would be a significantly better place.
Next time you pass by someone in need, maybe give a second's consideration for whether you should help them. I'm not saying that you have to give a few bucks to every panhandler at every red light you pass through, but I'm also not saying you need to force your religion on anyone that you help out. Meet the need when you feel called to and go on about your day.
Now, before we get started, I'm not trying to boast about my own charity. I'm well aware of the caution against that; "but when you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing" (English Standard Version, 2016, Matthew 6:3). It was a $4 praline. I'm just trying to illustrate how we can pay attention to those around us a bit more, and be more like Christ each day.
A few weeks ago, I went to Kilwins to get a caramel apple for my wife for Valentine's day. While I was there, I started eyeing the pralines. They looked so good, and if I was already making a purchase, why not get something for myself while I was there? I decided to buy one.
This was extremely unusual. When I worked in downtown Greenville and went into the office regularly, I went by Kilwins once a week. Kati loves caramel apples, and I am a firm believer in the mantra of "happy wife, happy life." Every week, I would buy a caramel apple and bring it home to her. My weekly trips were so consistent, one of my engineers pointed out that I could have bought an Oculus with all those apples. Suffice it to say, I was there a lot - dozens of times at minimum.
In all my trips to Kilwins, I could count the number of times I bought something for myself on one hand. Sure, their various offerings looked great, but I wasn't there for myself. I would very rarely pick up a chocolate coated pretzels or praline for myself, but that was very uncommon. I almost always just bought a single apple. In this particular instance, I bought a praline.
As I left Kilwins, I passed a homeless guy on the bench outside. "Hey, man. Those are really good, aren't they?" Yeah, man. "Could I get one?" Sorry, man, I only bought enough for my wife. I lied.
Funny, isn't it - how easily a lie comes off the tongue when we're just trying to get out of a conversation with someone? Sure, the apple was for my wife. That praline, though? That was all me. I bought enough for her AND me, point blank.
I continued down the sidewalk, but I recalled a very specific and relevant memory. A few years prior, I was walking down the very same sidewalk with a loaf of Stecca bread from the Swamp Rabbit Cafe pop-up store. The shop was within walking distance, so I would occasionally run by to pick up a loaf or two on my lunch break and take it home.
On my way back to work, I passed by a guy on a bench who seemed to be clearly homeless: tattered clothes, a bushy beard, a vaguely unclean odor. It was common downtown, and most of the time, I just ignored them. I got a few blocks away before it occurred to me that I could've shared my bread. How fitting, breaking bread with a stranger with the possibility of sharing my faith.
At this point, I was a good piece away from the guy, and I was on somewhat of a time crunch to get back to work. I vowed that the next homeless person I passed, I would either share my bread with them, or I would buy them some food if it was another day. This was several years prior, and I hadn't explicitly run into a homeless person where I could offer food since. I never made good on my promise.
Back in the present, this revelation hit me like a ton of bricks. I never followed through on that charitable intention. In many cases, I think Christ speaks to us through our thoughts. There wasn't any kind of external stimulus, this was just a thought that occurred to me at the perfect time internally. In the words of Joan of Arc, "how else would God speak to me, if not through my imagination?"
I made it a few steps further and considered that I should buy something for that homeless guy. I paused and meditated on it a bit further. No, I should just give him mine.
I crossed back over the street and marched up to the guy on the bench. "Hey man, I had an extra," much closer to the truth. I gave him my praline and told him to have a good one.
Should I have talked to him about religion? Maybe, but the Bible calls us to be kind to the poor regardless of faith or creed (ESV, 2016, Proverbs 14:31). Should I have implored him to get clean from any substance abuse? No chance. "Judge not, that you be not judged" (ESB, 2016, Matthew 7:1). It isn't my place to condemn this guy for his past or present, I'm simply here to meet a need where I can.
I'm not sure why that guy was in the situation where I found him, but it doesn't matter. I saw in him Christ in the wilderness, someone in need. In that brief moment, having an extra bit of candy that I would almost never have purchased, I saw the opportunity to provide for a need and I took it. If we were all aware of needs like that and more eager to meet them, the world would be a significantly better place.
Next time you pass by someone in need, maybe give a second's consideration for whether you should help them. I'm not saying that you have to give a few bucks to every panhandler at every red light you pass through, but I'm also not saying you need to force your religion on anyone that you help out. Meet the need when you feel called to and go on about your day.
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