I'm ashamed to say that too often I behave like the guy laying in bed with his family refusing to get up to give loaves of bread to his friend. I wish it were otherwise, but the truth is the truth. And where better to tell the truth but in church?

My life, much of the time, is all tucked in nice and warm. My doors are bolted shut. My children are sound asleep. The worries and cares of the day are well behind me. Each of my children has already been up for the obligatory glass of water and trip to the bathroom and now, finally, all is calm and I just want to drift off for a few hours of peace and quiet before it all starts again. Then comes the knocking at the door. And even though he is a friend, I do not want to get up, put my bare feet on the cold floor, wrap my robe around me, and lend…