Sarah put down the Bible and picked up her journal. “What if we kept the royal law?” she thought. “What if we actually loved our neighbors as ourselves?”
She realized her coffee was empty. She walked back upstairs to refill the mug.
The pot was empty. Julie must have finished it. Sarah was ready to make another mark in the “Things-My-Housemate-Does-That-Annoy-Me” notebook in her mind until she remembered the words she’s just written.
She walked to the stairway and called up. “Would you like some fresh?”
This was going to be annoying. She was glad she was meeting with her mentor after work.
“I want to do something that matters,” she said to Carol. She knew she sounded like all the research about millennials, the research that millennials hate because they don’t like being treated as generalizations.
“I’m curious. What would be something that mattered?” Carol asked.
“You know. Like building an orphanage or drilling a well or rescuing children or something amazing.”
“So build an orphanage.” Carol was direct.
Sarah squirmed. “But that’s big and impossible.”
“And time-consuming?” Carol asked. “So what’s the smallest thing you could do that would make you feel like you were doing something that mattered?”
Sarah thought back to her journal. “There’s the royal law thing.”
“It’s in James. He talks about the royal law of loving our neighbor. He says that if we do that, we are doing right.” Sarah leaned back. “So that would be a small thing.”
“Ah yes. That’s a wonderful statement. People talk about it all the time. But we never quite understand it. It’s a great way to find something that matters. So let me ask you something, Sarah. Who’s the poorest person you have ever prayed for? Did you give them a sandwich?”