Come Follow Me

I once knew a man named Walter. He taught me what it means to follow the Lord. He taught me more than any course I ever took, lecture I ever attended, or inspiration I have ever received in prayer. I met Walter when I was 19. I entered the Convent, believing I was answering Jesus’ call to follow. The Bronx was my home. To say I was wide-eyed and naïve would be an absolute understatement. But I was sincere in my desire to follow, though I had no idea what following would mean.

God sent me Walter to teach me what it means to follow. Walter was homeless, and he lived on the streets of the Bronx. Walter came to the Convent hungry on Holy Thursday evening in 1976. He asked for food. The other Sisters I lived with were a little more cautious. I know now, he was not there for them; he was there for me. I invited Walter into the Convent and made a place for him in the front parlor. (I think only Convents have parlors.) A sandwich would simply not do on Holy Thursday. Instead, I prepared a full plate of the dinner we had just finished, lamb, potatoes, vegetables, and a salad. I sat and chatted with him while he ate. I sent him on his way with a sandwich and a cup of coffee and went to the Holy Thursday service. Walter came by several times a week over the next several months. Each time I gave him a full meal and sat and talked to him about life, both his and mine.

In mid-summer, I went to mass at Saint Lucy’s parish church. Walter was standing in the back when I walked into the Church. He saw me and began to make a huge scene, calling out, telling everyone he was my friend. I was embarrassed by the scene he was making. I walked away from him without talking to him and took my seat in the first row. I was upset by the encounter, remembering the look in his eyes when I walked away. Midway through the mass, I came to my senses. What was I doing? How could I sit there at the table of the Lord when I had just walked away from Walter? I left the Church to find him. He was gone. He never returned to my home for a meal. For the next 3 years, I searched for him and never saw him. I grieved his loss. 

But I know that God sent me Walter to teach me what it means to follow him. He showed me where he lives, and he gave me the most profound life lesson about being His follower. Often people ask why I retell this story. It certainly wasn’t my finest hour. But it was God’s finest hour in my life. When God sends people into my life now, I look in their eyes, and I see the eyes of Walter. When God calls me, I respond without embarrassment or hesitation, and I remember Walter. 

God sent me Jesus in the person of Walter, so I would follow and not be only an inch deep in my commitment to Him. I was an inch deep with Walter, and I patted myself on the back, thinking I was quite noble in what I did for him. God showed me that to follow Him is sometimes uncomfortable and challenging. He showed me that a superficial faith would never cut it. He needed and wanted more from me, and my desire to follow him.

Peter and Andrew in the Gospel looked into the eyes of Jesus, and they dropped everything to follow Him. Imagine how powerful His eyes must have been. His eyes lured them to leave everything and follow.

For most of us, following the call of the Lord is not as powerful as it was for Peter and Andrew. We don’t drop everything. Perhaps that is not what he wants from us. But He does want a faith that is more than an inch deep from all of us. He wants our willingness to always follow through thick and thin when it is easy and painful.

Jesus came to me and changed my life through a homeless man named Walter. Who did He send you?

In God’s Unending Love,

Gwen