Everybody, Always

girlfriend or mom because he was going to ask them for help, so I
offered, “Hey, what is it that you need, anyway?”
There was another pause as if he were deciding whether he trusted me
enough to ask. Then my new friend sheepishly said, “I need a bracelet.” I
had thought of a long list of things he might have asked me for—a cake
with a hacksaw in it, an alibi, breath mints—but I wouldn’t have put
money on him asking me for a bracelet.
“You want to wear a bracelet?” I asked naively as I tried to visualize
this guy sporting a gold wristband covered in sequins as he bench-pressed
350 pounds in the prison yard.
“No, no. I’ve been in jail for four years and I’ve qualified to be
released with an ankle bracelet. I just need to pay for it.” For those who
are unfamiliar, an ankle bracelet is what the police put on people they
want to keep track of as a condition of their release. Without missing a
beat, I said, “Buddy, I’ll buy it for you. What color do you want?” We
both laughed, and he said they didn’t come with colors, just locks.
The next day I got in touch with the prison so I could buy this guy an
ankle bracelet. They told me how much it cost. I gasped and reached for
my chest. I had the guy tell me the number again because I thought I had
misheard him the first time. I had no idea how much it cost to LoJack a
felon. But I made a promise, so I wrote the check. I assume the guy got
his bracelet because the prison said they released him a few days later. I
haven’t heard from him since, but I know he’s got my number.
Here’s the thing: we don’t need to put ankle bracelets on all the good
things we do for God like we’re trying to keep track of them. In fact, He
said to do just the opposite. Jesus talked about not letting one of your
hands even know what the other is up to. There are probably a number of
reasons He gave this metaphor, but among them is when we do things for
the poor or the sick or strange or naked or those in jail, He already knows
all about it because it’s Him.
When I was in elementary school, we put on the classic play Peter
Pan. I tried out for the role of Peter, but I couldn’t sing or dance or fly so