The Casserole That Never Left the Counter

Margaret Holloway made the best chicken casserole in all of Decatur, Georgia. Everyone at First Community Church said so. When the Nguyen family lost their home in the fire on Maple Street last October, Margaret was the first to speak up at the Wednesday night prayer meeting. "Oh, that poor family," she said, pressing her hand to her heart. "We need to rally around them. Someone should bring them meals."

She went home that evening and pulled out her grandmother's ceramic baking dish. She lined up the ingredients on the counter — rotisserie chicken, cream of mushroom soup, egg noodles, the sharp cheddar she always grated fresh. She even wrote "For the Nguyens" on a sticky note and pressed it to the dish.

But the phone rang. Then Thursday got busy. Friday she had errands. By Saturday the chicken had gone bad, and the sticky note had curled at the edges.

Meanwhile, across town, Dave Perkins — a man who could barely boil water — showed up at the Nguyens' motel room with a bag of Chick-fil-A, a prepaid grocery card, and a list of phone numbers for housing assistance. It wasn't elegant. But it was there.

James cuts right to the bone: "Faith by itself, if it is not accompanied by action, is dead." Margaret believed in helping. Dave actually helped. Good intentions left on the counter spoil just as surely as raw chicken. The Lord doesn't audit our feelings — He looks for our footprints.