I was young and stupid and didn’t really understand.
Grandma restated her philosophy, then she continued: “What if Jesus disguises himself as a poor man who asks you for help and you don’t help? What are you gonna’ say to him when your life ends and you stand there at the gates of Heaven?”
I hadn’t considered this. But on that day, in the mind of a ten-year-old, what she said made sense. It was far easier to help, I decided, than worry about making the Almighty mad and condemning myself to what could be a really miserable afterlife.