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“But whoso hath this world's good, and seeth his brother have need, and shutteth up his bowels of compassion from him, how dwelleth the love of God in him? My little children, let us not love in word, neither in tongue; but in deed and in truth.”
— 1 John 3:17-18 (KJV)
Your neighbour’s generator broke down yesterday. The Lagos heat is relentless, and her children are restless. She mentioned it once in passing, but you have said nothing since. Your own generator works fine. You have fuel. Yet somehow, the thought of sharing feels like one more burden in an already stretched week.
This is the tension John addresses in his first epistle. Love, he says, is not mere sentiment or kind words—it is action rooted in reality.
Notice what John does not ask: Do you feel moved? Do you have surplus energy? Do you know her well enough? He asks one thing only: when you see a brother or sister in need, and you have the means to help, do you close your heart? The Greek phrase translated “shutteth up his bowels of compassion” speaks of literally closing off one’s mercy. John is blunt because the stakes are eternal. If we claim to love God while refusing practical help to those we can see and touch, our profession of faith becomes hollow.
In Matthew 25, our Lord Jesus describes the final judgment. He does not separate the righteous from the unrighteous based on doctrinal precision or eloquent prayers, but on this: “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me” (Matthew 25:40). Feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, visiting the sick—these are not optional extras for the super-spiritual. They are the evidence that Christ dwells in us.
Paul echoes this in Romans 13:8-9: “Owe no man any thing, but to love one another: for he that loveth another hath fulfilled the law… Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself.” Love is the debt we never fully discharge because there is always more opportunity to show it.
Yet how do we do this in Nigeria’s climate of scarcity? We do it imperfectly, but we do it. We share what we have—fuel, food, money, time, counsel, a listening ear. We do not wait until we have abundance; we give from our sufficiency. The widow’s mite reminds us that God measures not the quantity but the sacrifice.
Your neighbour’s need is not a problem for government or church leaders alone. It is God’s invitation to you to be His hands and heart in that home.
Ask yourself honestly: Is there someone in my sphere—my street, my church, my workplace, my family—whose obvious need I have been ignoring? Do not let your busyness or discomfort become an excuse to lock away compassion. One small act of kindness today—sharing that fuel, paying that hospital bill, helping with that repair—is love in deed and truth.
Lord, give me eyes to see my neighbour’s need and courage to act without delay.