I was driving and I almost didn't stop.
But something in my chest wouldn't let me pass it. A man — asleep on the ground — in the middle of the city.
I pulled over.
While I was parked, I began to build. Not from much. A few items from my car. A wall of gravel around him so he wouldn't be disturbed by passing traffic or pedestrians. That's it. Four feet of gravel.
The point of this entry isn't to highlight what I did. The point is to raise a question:
What if we all did that?
What if every time we encountered someone in need, we paused for a moment — interrupted our schedules, our plans, our comfort — and simply made four feet of space for them?
A space where they weren't pushed. Weren't violated. Weren't invisible.
Matthew 25 is one of the most confrontational chapters in the Bible. Jesus is describing the final judgment. And it hinges on one thing: What did you do when you encountered me in the form of the hungry, the stranger, the sick, the imprisoned?
"And the King shall answer and say unto them, Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me."
Matthew 25:40 KJV
Jesus doesn't ask if you understood the theology. Doesn't ask if you posted the right thing online. Doesn't ask about your intentions or your excuses. He points to the marginalized, the forgotten, the broken — and says when you engage them, you engage me.
One man. Four feet of gravel. One moment. What you do with it is up to you.
But I promise you — if you make that space, if you pause long enough to see the person in front of you, something in you will shift. And you'll never be the same.
