Daily Worship

Our promise to the stranger

October 26, 2012 0 0

Matt 21: 28-31, 3 John 1:5

​Matt 21: 28-31

“What do you think? There was a man who had two

sons. He went to the first and said,’ Son, go and work today in the vinyard.’  

‘I will not,’ he answered, but later he changed his mind and went.

Then his father went to the other son and said the same thing.  He answered, ‘I will, sir,’ but did not go.

Which of the two did what his father wanted?

‘The first,’ they answered.”

3 John 1:5

“Dear friend, you are faithful in what you are doing

for the brothers, even though they are strangers to you.”

​Our promise to the stranger?

Do I make promises?

To strangers?

I pride myself on keeping my promises…

 

Ah!

 

“Yes, let’s keep in touch - I’ll phone you.”

And I don’t.

“You must come round for dinner.”

And the invitation isn’t made.

“I’ll write regularly.”

Like once a year?

“I’ll fill it in when I get home – I’ve been meaning 

to donate for ages.”

And lose the form.

 

I meant it when I said it, Lord.

I really did intend all those things

it’s just that life gets so busy

the weeks whizz by

this happened

and that happened

and last week I had extra work to do.

 

Delete where applicable.

 

And it gets worse:

“I promise I’ll be praying for you.”

And I mean to and do so…

just the once.

And the e-mail prayer list

that I read

and intend to print out

which then slips my mind.

 

What’s that line

about the road to hell

being paved with good intentions?

And is it also scattered

with broken promises?

 

Maybe, Lord, I shouldn’t make so many.

Just possibly, I should think before I speak

and make sure that I understand

that a sentence lightly spoken from my mouth

is a promise filled with expectation

to the listener’s ear.

That a promise is an assurance of a result.

Binding. Not to be made lightly.

 

Please forgive me, Lord, for all the promises

I have made and not kept,

for all the opportunities I’ve lost

to reach out to a stranger

who might well have been an angel in disguise

but, more, might have been in need

of what I could have given

and didn’t.

-

written by Ginni Auld