Years ago, I stood in the gym of a men’s prison to open our church’s Christmas service. The gymnasium was filled to capacity with incarcerated men, volunteers, and staff. I shared that, if I could, I would start each day walking laps around the prison yard with them. I’ve repeated that same statement to groups of men many times over the years.
It may seem like a strange statement to most, but I mean it sincerely. It’s an expression of honor. I am saying, “I would love to start my day with you and share life with you.”
“Whoever is kind to the poor lends to the LORD, and he will reward them for what they have done” (Proverbs 19:17).
In Luke 14:1–23, Jesus reshapes what we often think of as honor. He tells the host not to invite friends, family, or wealthy neighbors who can repay the favor. Instead, we are to invite the poor, the lame, and those who cannot repay us. Yes, we will be blessed by a greater reward that comes from God (v. 14).
Jesus’ focus on the marginalized sets the standard for how we are to treat others. Our students cannot repay us for our time, the cost of postage, or the work of this ministry. We do not expect them to; however, many of you have shared how meaningful these relationships have become through simple lessons and letters.
This month, consider how you can intentionally show honor and kindness to others. Some conversations or interactions may seem small or one-sided, yet they can still be meaningful. Choosing words that communicate respect, patience, and care can remind someone that they matter. Even a simple acknowledgment of another person’s effort or humanity can make a lasting impact. In places where people often feel overlooked or forgotten, your words can remind them they are seen and valued.
“See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands; your walls are ever before me” (Isaiah 49:16).
Recently, after a conversation with an incarcerated man’s mother, I wrote him a letter. I hoped it would be encouraging, but I did not expect him to write me back. He did not know me, and I did not know if he even had money for a postage stamp. But now, lying on my desk, is a handwritten letter in pencil, filled with words that brightened my day more than I expected.
In many ways, we were able to take laps around the prison yard together—only this time, it came in the form of a letter.
Learn more and sign up as a mentor for Crossroads’ correspondence-based mentorship program.