During the twenty years I worked as a church secretary, I was often asked to respond to benevolence requests, either from transients passing through our small city or residents in financial difficulty. Sometimes this was all taken care of by phone, but usually these individuals or, more often, whole families walked into my office looking for someone to listen.

On the outside, the majority of these people were un-love-ly. They generally were not pretty, pleasant, or clean. Many exhibited the attitude: "The world owes me a lot more than I've got, and this church is going to give me some of it now!" Some had been stranded with car trouble and walked some distance without funds for a motel. On occasion, a local family had experienced a water or electricity cutoff for incomplete or nonpayment of bills resulting in no baths or laundry for, um, weeks? Some yearned for better hygiene; others were unfamiliar with the idea. Although the church was a smoke-free environment, one man consistently seemed to move around in his own haze, much like Charlie Brown's Pigpen inhabits a dust cloud. It took a conscious act of will to love these people. The New Testament tells us that God is love (1 John 4:8); love is the second most important commandment (John 15:12); and we are to love our neighbor as ourselves (Matthew 22:39). Love is the first fruit of the spirit Paul lists in Galatians 5:22.

Augustine was once asked what love looks like. He replied:

"Love has hands to help others.
It has feet to hasten to the poor and needy.
It has eyes to see misery and want.
It has ears to hear the sighs and sorrow of men.
This is what love looks like."

Here is an expanded viewpoint:

Love's hands can hold open the church door for an elderly man struggling with a walker. They can situate an office chair so that he can reach it more easily. Hands can move the trash can closer to him for his tobacco juice while he tells the story of his, his son and his daughter-in-law's travel woes in their archaic, undependable car. They can feel a gritty, unwashed sweater caught slipping from a frail shoulder, or a transient child's sticky hands when you give her a sucker from a desk drawer. Sometimes the hands of love dial the police station for an identity check. They issue gas vouchers, wipe snotty noses, call auto repair shops, and, on occasion, rifle petty cash for a few dollars to pay for a fast food lunch to encourage a family down the road.

Love's feet can hurry

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