The Bible tells a story of four men, outcasts from society who thought their best days were behind them, but ended up saving an entire city from starvation. As lepers, they were banned from social contact, sitting outside the city gates waiting to die. Unfortunately, so was the entire city. Surrounded by an enemy army, slowly starving into submission, things were bleak indeed. These four men I've named Harry, Gary, Larry, and Jerry. I can do this because the Bible doesn't name them. But it does tell us about them. When you have nothing to lose, you might be willing to try anything, and they were. They were going to die if they stayed where they were, so they might as well truck on down to the enemy. The worse that could happen is the enemy would kill them. But when they entered the enemy camp, it was deserted. God had caused them to hear what they thought was the sound of mercenaries hired by the beleaguered king to relieve the siege.
Harry, Gary, Larry, and Jerry went from tent to tent, gorging themselves on abandoned food and collecting armloads of booty, till one of them said, "This isn't right. If we don't share this good news, some evil will come upon us." So they went back to the very people who had kicked them out to die, and brought the good news that saved the entire city. Anyone who ever believes that their best days are behind them, that they have nothing to offer, can take heart from these four men. Holding good news to oneself strips it of its power, reducing it to no news at all.
The Bible asks us how if we have the ability to help someone but refuse to do so, can we claim to have God's love? The answer is, we can't. Love isn't measured by how it makes us feel or how it makes someone else feel. It's measured by the good it does to those who need it most. Sometimes it hurts those who offer it, but never those who receive it.
When I was growing up, Mary Martin played Peter Pan in a stage play that was beamed into our homes annually via b/w television. One day as she was about to go onstage, Oscar Hammerstein gave her a scrap of paper, commenting that he was working on a new song he wanted her to do. She tucked it into her pocket and forgot about it until Hammerstein died shortly thereafter, whereupon she retrieved it, unfolded it, and read the following words:
A song is no song till you sing it;
A bell is no bell till you ring it.
And the song in your heart wasn't put there to stay,
For love isn't love till you give it away.
Today I had the privilege of speaking to people who had spent the day walking to raise money for cancer research; this "Relay for Life" was organized by a former member of our youth group. He had called and asked me to be the closing speaker for the event, and the words above were part of my remarks. I am grateful for people who demonstrate love by giving of themselves. Some of those who walked did so in spite of their own health issues, pain marking each step they took. It was love in action; feelings weren't necessarily a part of the equation. It was all about the doing.
It wasn't a large group. It was Mike's first attempt at organizing something like this, and they raised about $5,000; not too shabby, in my book! There are those who would say that it didn't amount to much, and in a way, they would be correct. Tomorrow people will wake up and cancer will still be a reality. But we believe love wins out in the end, and each deed and word of love, each step taken will have its place in the ultimate victory. I am grateful for the small part I was able to play, for the larger part these folks played today to bring the hope for which people pray.
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