I hung up the phone too stunned to cry. I walked into the room where my husband was working.

"I just got told off!"

"By whom?" he asked. I blurted out my story.

Two years earlier I had reached out to a woman in her eighties who lived alone. She had family but harbored broken relationships with several of her adult children. And, she had no relationship with God.

One day I made some vegetable soup and took it to her. She seemed genuinely moved by my little gesture but spent most of our time together telling me about herself and her problems. When I felt it was an appropriate time to go, I asked if I could pray for her. She agreed without hesitation but as soon as I ended my prayer, she began talking again about her problems.

I called her from time to time or stopped by her home, sometimes taking things I had baked. I tried in those visits to talk to her about a relationship with Jesus, but my attempts always led into a monologue about what was wrong with the church. She gave no indication of any desire to know God, and I sensed that, if anything, she viewed my prayers as "good luck charms."

When I encountered problems in my own life, I didn't see her for several months.

Then when I called to see how she was, I received her abusive verbal assault: Where had I been? Why hadn't I been to see her?

She was bitterly angry. Punishing me. Then, almost as a final blow, she informed me that she had told others that I — a professed Christian — had neglected her.

I felt broadsided.

I had reached out and cared about her. She had turned it around into an expectation, now portraying me to others as an insensitive, uncaring person.

My husband comforted me and was momentarily angrier over my tears than I was. "Just leave her alone," he said. "Don't worry about what she is saying. Nobody will pay any attention to her."

But as much as I love my husband, I knew I needed to talk to Jesus about this. Alone in our bedroom I poured out my feelings to Him: fear, anger, hurt, sudden cynicism. Not only had I failed to win this woman to Christ, I had probably driven her further from Him. Suddenly I was afraid to care about anyone. What has happened to the joy I'm supposed to find in helping others?

After pouring out my complaints, I began listening to God. Gradually He taught me five lessons.

Have a Right Heart
My confusion centered on what to do next — how to respond — but God seemed more concerned about my getting my heart right than in dealing with her ugliness. I read Luke 6:27-28: "…do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you." I was ready to write "Hopeless" beside her name on my prayer list, but I thought of the fisherman Simon Peter when Jesus told him to try again. It was the last thing Peter wanted to do. It made no sense, and he voiced his objection to Jesus. But then he added, "…because you say so, I will let down the nets" (Luke 5:5). Christ then taught about doing good and expecting nothing in return. God's children are to be merciful just as our Father is merciful.

Wait and Listen
When direction did come the answer was "Wait!" That was not the counsel I wanted. I either wanted to confront this woman immediately, or cross her name off my list. I sensed God saying, "Don't call anyone for sympathy. Don't tell your side of the story to those who have heard her side. Just wait." There is "…a time to be silent" (Ecclesiastes 3:7).

Reevaluate the Reality
As I waited in silence, I saw I needed to reevaluate my understanding of discipleship. My concept of it was like a Norman Rockwell painting filled with warm happy colors and emotions — not a Biblical picture. I thought of the story of Jesus and the ten lepers
(Luke 17:11-19). Ten men were healed. Nine did not bother to come back and express praise to God. Yet He went on.

He was rejected at Nazareth, driven out of town. They even attempted to kill Him. Jesus was let down and failed by people in whom He had invested so much, but He went on.

Take Inventory
God brought to mind experiences where reaching out had brought visible results: letters from a college student I had helped with expense money, words of appreciation from a lonely person I had befriended, the picture on my wall painted by a woman I had introduced to Christ. It is easy for cynicism to blind us, to erase segments of our memory. Granted, the world has many takers. All too often, the response to our caring seems not only inappropriate but evil. Still, there is affirmation along the way. I gave thanks, and felt joy returning.

Examine Expectations
Perhaps the greatest thing that has come out of it all is that I have looked again at my own attitude in the light of my relationship with God. Am I in danger of becoming a taker? Am I in danger of becoming a grumbler when God doesn't produce on my terms? Because of His great goodness to me have I set up expectations He has never promised to fulfill?

I wish I could end this with a beautiful story of reconciliation, or of a changed heart. But that has not happened, at least not yet. She is still angry at me, still talking about me. But then, this is not a Norman Rockwell world. It wasn't for Jesus, and it certainly won't be for those who seriously desire to follow Him.