“So the homeless don’t count, right?”

I have loved teaching fourth through sixth graders on Wednesday nights for the past three years. The kids ask all kinds of questions without wondering what their friends might think. They go deep, like this one from last week: “Ms. Elizabeth, does God love Satan?” (Has anyone else had that question? It was a first for me.)

This school year, we are walking through the Bible chronologically in an effort to understand the overall redemption story — the “upper story” if you’re familiar with Max Lucado and Randy Frazee’s “The Story.” The thread runs through the entirety of Scripture, and I believe seeing the story unfold will help these children explore and understand Jesus as Savior.

We crossed over into the New Testament last week, beginning with John 1 and Luke 1, describing Jesus as both God and man. As we talked about the details of a story each of them had heard before, I wanted to test some comprehension. Too many times they know the words but not the meaning, as is probably the case with many of us.

I asked them what a census was. Only two knew, so I explained how it works and mentioned that we would have one in the U.S. this year. One girl thought we’d be traveling to a capital city for it and was relieved to find out that it can be done through mail, by phone, or online.

Another kid — the one who asked about God loving Satan — asked me this one: “So the homeless don’t count, right? Because they don’t have an address, there would be no way to know who they are.”

Daggers in my heart.

It was easy to tell him that they do their best to get those numbers, too, but that not all of them would be counted. However, it was not so easy to think on those words through the weekend using a spiritual lens.

The homeless do count, and God knows who they are.

Before we were born, God formed us personally and intimately. (Read all of Psalm 139.) He knows us better than anyone else, and He cares for us and loves us deeply. More than that, He straight-up showed us His love for us when Christ died for us (Romans 5:8). Not one person will ever live that God does not know, for we were all made by Him, regardless of our circumstances.

But here’s the main part I wrestled with: If we as the hands and feet of Christ believe that God loves and knows all people, why do those of us with plenty sometimes act like the lesser ones don’t count? Have we forgotten that we’re all on level ground — sinners in need of the Savior? Have we forgotten that all we have is a gift from God and that He, in His grace, has given us our needs and most of our wants? That He blesses us to bless others? I think we too easily forget that we’re simply stewards of God’s resources. We’re in the middle.

Jesus didn’t spend His time building up worldly goods. Instead, He pointed people to the greater things. And I think that’s where we often get hung up. I think we take our eyes off eternity and instead look at the worldly things in our hands. The more we look at them, the harder it is to let them go. But the more we focus on Christ, the easier it is to let go of our comforts — whether they be physical things or abstract things, like time — and bless others with them. When Jesus is our focus, it frees us up to be kind and generous to others because we no longer feel that we have to maintain our own lives. We remember who sits on the throne.

This week, I’m praying that both I and my brothers and sisters in Christ who have plenty let people know they count. I’m praying we have generous hearts toward everyone, specifically those with great needs. I’m praying we don’t look away but instead get to work. Ministry is messy and often uncomfortable. The rewards are great, though, as God shapes our hearts through it and we’re reminded of the things that truly matter.

I’m praying for open eyes, open hearts, and open hands. Let’s share God’s love this week, and let’s make sure they know they count.