I listened with interest to the story about a gang member or “homeboy” from the streets of LA. A pastor had taken into his care many of them, not actually providing a home for them, but becoming their safe place. This particular homie had just been released from a detention center. His father had been a heroine addict and beat him many times and was in prison. But his mom had always been there for him and there was no one like her in his mind. 

But it was this part of the story that gave me pause. As he cried his heart out, he said he had been locked up for a year and a half. While in the detention center, she had come to see him every single Sunday. She took seven buses every Sunday just to see him. He was still incredulous about the fact. Seven buses! Every week. If there are fifty-two weeks in a year, that means that seventy eight times she took seven different buses just so she could see her son.

As I listened enraptured to the story, these questions seemed to fill my inner most soul. Am I willing to take seven buses for those who are in my life, and mostly, in my heart? Am I willing to take seven buses every single week for as long as it takes? Even if it is seven hundred and eighty days instead of seventy eight? Seven thousand eight hundred days? Even if they are the ones at fault? Even if they are the ones in the detention center of my heart? Should I even have a detention center in my heart?

What would it look like for me to take seven buses? Clearly it would mean doing whatever it took. Clearly it would mean going out of my way. Clearly it would mean having an immeasurable amount of God in my heart. So what would it look like?

I think it would look a whole lot like that account in the Bible when Peter asked Jesus  how many times he should forgive his brother. Seven times? Jesus had told him no. Not seven times. But seventy times seven. 

When someone has taken the wrong path in life, it is easy to say, “they made their bed and now they have to lie in it” and not pull out any of my buses. But can I instead pull out not only one, but all seven of my buses? Can I see the smile that doesn’t quite reach the eyes, the laugh that tries to hide the unrest, and the soul that still longs for Jesus? Because it is true. Our souls all do long for Jesus no matter what path our hearts take. Can I reach out in whatever way possible?

When someone wrongs me or is the one at fault in my most inner circles, can I take out not only one, but seven buses? Can I send the card, reach out my hand, or give them a seat at my table? Can I send them a gift, do that kind deed, or overlook the wrong? Can I see the child in them that maybe has brought all of this on?

When someone seems indifferent to all the good around them, when hearts are crying every single day, when the storms in someone’s life seems way more prevalent then the sunny days, can I pull out all seven of my buses and not let it deter me from kindness, help, and hope?

A song by Dottie Rambo says, “He looked beyond my fault and saw my need.” And oh to have that much of Jesus in my heart. To be so full of the expansive love of Jesus, that where my fallible heart would otherwise have a detention center that I have made up of the faults of others, I would instead be ready to go with not one, but all seven of my buses. Immeasurable kindness. Unrequited love. Unfathomable forgiveness.

Seven buses.