It was just past seven o’clock on a frigid morning. I spotted him walking north on Main Street in Monmouth. Age showed in his gray hair and stilted walk. An old gray blanket hung off his shoulders with the ragged tail dragging along the sidewalk behind him.
Someone should take him to Starting Point where he could get warm and enjoy a hot breakfast. I checked my watch, and I had plenty of time.
Within minutes, I had him aboard, dirty blanket and all, and I asked him his name and where he was going.
“Name’s Herb from New Orleans, and I’m going to Aledo to see my brother.”
Take Herb to Aledo? Why not? I had the time. It would keep him from freezing while getting him to his destination. After all, I was a Believer who should always be ready to help someone. It would be an example of loving someone I didn’t even know.
Once we arrived at the outskirts of Aledo, I asked Herb where his brother lived. He thought his brother would probably be at a restaurant. Easy enough to find.
I parked in front of the first restaurant we spotted, and Herb went inside. Meanwhile, I patted myself on the back. It was my good deed for the day. Then Herb exited the restaurant and came back to the car. Brotherless.
“I have to go to Viola,” Herb said, once he was re-seated in my pickup.
Viola lies east of Aledo about ten miles, so not a big deal. I could easily drop Herb off in Viola and then head due south back to Monmouth. Just extending my good deed for the day.
On the way to Viola, however, Herb mentioned he actually needed to get to Indianapolis. Indianapolis lays much farther east of Aledo, approximately three hundred miles. Kind of a big deal. I did a quick calculation in my head and figured that was about a five hour drive. How would I tell April I had just spent the entire day going to Indianapolis and back? Of course I would mention our duty to love everyone, no matter what.
But, what if once Herb and I arrived in Indianapolis, he suggested he needed to go even further east?
I imagined the phone call I would be making: “Honey, I’m in New York City.”
“What are you doing in New York City?”
“Because Herb and I can’t go any further east. There’s an ocean in the way.”
“Who is Herb?”
“I really don’t know.”
I’m guessing the next words out of April’s mouth would not be, “How nice. Buy some ocean liner tickets and take Herb to England.”
I ended up dropping Herb off at a church in Viola before driving back to Monmouth. Was I wrong to do that? Had I abandoned Herb?
Selfless love doesn’t mean becoming an enabler. Moments arise when we should kindly say, “No” or “No more.”
If I had a do-over, I would take Herb to a restaurant, or even the restaurant in Aledo, and share a breakfast with him. I would enjoy finding out his whole story. I would share my Jesus with him, just in case God had put me in Herb’s life to plant more seeds.
Then I would wish him safe travels, and we would part ways. By that time, I would have wisely discerned Herb as a wanderer, a modern day hobo. His simple desire was help to get a little further down the highway.
Should I feel guilty? That’s often our response. Because we’re Believers, and we’re taught we should love everyone, we’re prone to guilt trips when we don’t somehow give a person everything he wants.
However, selfless love also requires discerning wisdom. When we look at someone through the lens of wisdom, we can see what it is the person truly needs, even if the person doesn’t see it, and our wise love in action becomes fulfilling the need rather than the want. And that’s best. Always do the best for the other person even if it means saying ‘no.’