inconvenient

inconvenient: not convenient especially in giving trouble or annoyance

I thought Jesus was inconvenient today.

I was on my way to youth group —I'd left the house about an hour early with the intention of stopping at Starbucks—when I spotted him at the turnaround. Squatting on the concrete while my dashboard read 102F, listlessly holding a cardboard sign with his head down. He wasn't even looking at the cars and I wondered: Does he think no one will help him? Does he think no one sees him?

My first thought upon seeing people in need is usually that I should help. My next thoughts were:

1. Jesus is the poor.

2. He's all the way on the other side of the highway and I'm already at the light. I'll have to turn around.

3. Ugh. I don't want to turn around. I'm going to have to loop around this section of the highway again in order to get in the far left lane.

4. Why is helping so inconvenient?

By this time, the light turned green and I was turning onto Fort Hood Street, suddenly horrified and shamed by the fact that I'd just considered helping someone to be inconvenient. I parked at Starbucks, pulling my thoughts together as I walked inside. I realized that, if I drove through the Popeye's parking lot, I'd have enough room to change from the far right lane to the far left lane.

I took a quick snapshot of my coffee and typed up an Instagram post asking how others help those in need. At this point, I felt upset by my thoughts, the true nature of my heart, and my inaction. And why don't I keep myself better prepared? While there aren't as many visible homeless people in Killeen as there are in Austin, it's not entirely uncommon to pass someone with a cardboard sign.

So, when I finally left Starbucks prepared to serve, I decided to take another route. It would be slightly longer, but it would give me more time to cross the highway and I wouldn't feel rushed changing lanes near a traffic light. I would feel comfortable.

Whatever illusion of possible comfort I had was swiftly shattered; traffic in the lane beside me prevented me from exiting the highway where I intended to, so I drove almost halfway down the street to turn onto another street. What should have taken maybe two minutes turned into a seven-minute drive as I meandered downtown on a street I'd never driven before.

I ended up behind the Killeen Daily Herald—where I could have started working in 2012 instead of starting graduate school—and thought about how incredible life can be when I obey God instead of doing my own thing.

As I turned onto the access road again, I considered how we have to be willing to be inconvenienced, we have to be willing to step out of our comfort zones, if we want to serve. Jesus didn't ignore people because He had other things on his agenda for the day.

I slowed to a stop at the traffic light. This time, the man was standing up. I couldn't make out what his sign said, but it certainly didn't have the usual "Anything helps" or "Homeless veteran" writing. I had a brief moment of panic—maybe he wasn't in need, maybe I was going to look patronizing.

No.

As followers of Christ, we are called to go. We are called to follow Christ and love others well, not determine the minimum level of love we can show or judge just how in need someone is. And in doing so, yes, our plans are going to be changed. We're going to take scenic routes instead of direct paths. We're going to question and we're going to wonder, and we may wonder how others perceive us in the process. But we're going to trust. And we go knowing that, as Christ's servants, we go with Him.

If anyone serves Me, he must continue to follow Me [to cleave steadfastly to Me, conform wholly to My example in living and, if need be, in dying] and wherever I am, there will My servant be also. If anyone serves Me, the Father will honor him. -John 12:26