From My Porch to Yours
“When the Lord Speaks
Throughthe Smallest Cry”
By AmyEl-Rai Brown
Friend, every now and then the Lord will meet us in the most unexpected places, sometimes before we ever make it through the church doors. That is just what happened to me this past Sunday morning. I was sitting in my car, praying before service, when the stillness was broken by the faintest little cry. Somewhere nearby, a kitten was crying out. It was such a thin, pitiful sound that somebody in a rush might have brushed it off and kept on walking. But that little cry settled down in my spirit and would not let me be.
Now, I will just be honest with you, I have never been much of a cat person. Most days, I probably would have gone on inside and thought nothing more about it. But the longer I sat there, the more I felt that sweet nudge of the Holy Spirit, the kind that will not let you stay comfortable when something close by is hurting. So, I got out and followed the sound. There in the grass was the tiniest kitten, wounded, bleeding, and crying toward the church.
She looked so helpless and so alone that my heart just folded up inside me. Right then, these words came up in my spirit clear as day: “to the least of these” (Matthew 25:40).
I scooped that little baby up and carried her back to my car, planning to get her home where she could be cared for. Somewhere in the middle of all that, I realized I had left my Bible on top of the car, and it had flown out into the road along with the rest of the things I had set there in my hurry. So, there I was, trying to gather up my scattered belongings with a wounded kitten in my arms and a heart full of concern. It was not graceful, and it surely was not convenient, but mercy hardly ever waits for a time that fits nicely and easily into our plans.
By the time I started toward home, I looked down and saw blood on my shirt and thought to myself, “Well, you surely cannot go to church looking like this.” But sometimes what sounds practical is really a distraction trying to pull us off course. I called my daughter to meet me, placed that kitten in her care, and turned right back around toward the house of God. In that moment, the Lord reminded me that obedience is not always tidy, and compassion does not always leave us looking put together.
As I made my way back, the message settled deep in my heart. That little kitten, crying out because she was hurt and could not save herself, was more than just an interruption to my morning. She was a picture of every wounded soul that has ever longed for somebody to come and help, and if I am telling the truth, she was a picture of me too. Before Christ, I was bruised by life, carrying hurts I could not mend, and needing mercy I had no way to earn. And just like that kitten crying toward the church, I have learned that broken people still cry out, and the Lord still hears them. He is near to the brokenhearted, and He saves those who are crushed in spirit (Psalm 34:18). He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds (Psalm 147:3).
The Bible reminds us that when we care for “the least of these,” we are ministering right to the heart of Christ Himself (Matthew 25:40). It also tells us that the Lord hears the needy and does not turn away from them in their trouble (Psalm 69:33). That morning, in what seemed like a small and inconvenient moment, I was reminded that God still notices what other folks walk past. He still hears the cries that many have learned to ignore. And He still uses ordinary hands, ordinary hearts, and everyday moments to pour His compassion into a world that is aching for it.
So, let me leave this with you: the Lord still sees the overlooked, still bends low to the broken, and still has compassion for the ones this world may pass by. I thank God with all my heart that when I was wounded, He did not leave me there. He came to me with mercy, brought healing through Christ, and planted me in His church where grace could begin mending the places life had torn apart. And if you are hurting today, I want you to know your cry is not too small for Heaven to hear. The God who draws near to the brokenhearted (Psalm 34:18) still listens, still rescues, and still makes room for the weary and wounded to come on home.
And before I go, I would truly love to hear from you. If this column stirs a memory, if you have a story to share, if you need prayer, or
if there is simply something resting on your heart, please feel free to reach out. You can email me at [email protected]. I would
be honored to hear yourstory, pray with you, and bereminded that none of us arewalking this road alone.
