
There was a man I knew who, for as long as I could remember, had a quiet but steadfast ministry. It wasn’t one that drew crowds or had grand gestures of recognition. It was simply the role of a crossing guard, standing at the edge of the church parking lot every Sunday morning, guiding people safely across the lot and towards the building where we gathered to worship.
To many, it may have seemed a small thing, just a humble task to get out of the way of the morning rush. But not to him. For him, it was his act of service, his offering to God. Every Sunday, without fail, he stood there with a smile on his face, a kind word for everyone who passed by. His purpose was simple: to help. To serve. To be a gentle, unassuming presence that made people feel a little safer, a little more welcomed, a little more seen.
It wasn’t about recognition for him. He wasn’t there for praise or applause; his only desire was to serve others. Whether you were a first-time visitor or a long-time member, there he was, faithfully guiding you across that parking lot, offering a wave or a nod of recognition. He had a love for his role that was contagious. People looked forward to seeing him every Sunday. His presence, though often unnoticed in the grand scheme of things, became a fixture that everyone came to appreciate.
He would often say that this, for him, was his way of serving God—by simply being present, by being the one who helped others get where they needed to go, no matter how small or insignificant the task may have seemed to the outside world. And in that simple act of kindness, there was a profound truth: sometimes, the most faithful service is not found in the spotlight but in the quiet, unseen moments when we choose to love and care for others in the most ordinary ways.
To him, the act of helping others was an act of worship. In the small, unglamorous task of guiding people across a parking lot, he was offering his love to God and to his neighbors. And every Sunday, his service was a reminder that the love of Christ can be expressed in even the simplest of actions.
I’ll always remember him for that. He taught me that true service doesn’t have to be grand. It doesn’t need to be seen by the world to be meaningful. It’s the heart behind it, the willingness to give, to help, to love others, no matter how small the task may seem. He was a living example of that, showing us all what it meant to love like Jesus, in the most humble of ways.