What Jesus Will Remember
If I had to name my greatest regret, it wouldn’t be a specific sin or failure—it would be how often I’ve lived as if I were on my own. How often I’ve received mercy and care, but forgotten to respond with gratitude. How often I’ve held grace in my hands and closed my heart to others in need.
In Matthew 25, Jesus gives us a glimpse of the final judgment. And it’s not what most of us would expect. He doesn’t ask about titles or accomplishments or creeds. He asks:
“I was hungry, and you gave Me something to eat.
I was thirsty, and you gave Me something to drink.
I was a stranger, and you invited Me in.
I needed clothes, and you clothed Me.
I was sick, and you looked after Me.
I was in prison, and you came to visit Me.”
(Matthew 25:35–36)
These aren’t abstract virtues. These are the fundamental needs of a human being—every human being.
And the people in the story ask, “When did we see You like this?”
The truth is, Jesus lived all of it.
He was hungry in the wilderness.
Thirsty on the cross.
A stranger in His own hometown.
Naked, stripped by Roman soldiers.
Surrounded by the sick, burdened with their suffering.
Imprisoned, tried, condemned, and executed.
But what often goes unnoticed is that He was also cared for….from the beginning to the end of His earthly life. And that care came through community. Through family. Through others saying yes to love.
Mary fed Him and carried Him.
Joseph protected Him—fleeing in the night to keep Him safe from Herod’s wrath.
The Magi came from the East (likely Persia) and brought costly gifts to honor Him. And they protected Him by refusing to report back to Herod.
The women followed Him, supported Him out of their own resources, and stayed with Him when almost everyone else ran.
A woman anointed His feet with tears and perfume.
John stood beneath the cross and received His mother into his care.
Joseph of Arimathea gave his own tomb.
Nicodemus wrapped His body in spices and linen.
Jesus, the Son of God, allowed Himself to need others. And others stepped in—not because they were extraordinary, but because they saw Him. They loved Him. They remembered.
This is how the kingdom moves forward: not through domination, but through family. Through the daily work of caring for one another in simple, embodied ways.
When Jesus taught us to pray, “Our Father in heaven,” He wasn’t just teaching us to address God. He was telling us something about each other. If God is our Father, then we are family. We don’t serve the poor as outsiders doing charity. We serve as brothers and sisters—because we’ve all been the one in need. We’ve all been fed, protected, welcomed, clothed, healed, or visited by someone else’s love.
Psalm 22 gives us a window into Jesus’ heart on the cross:
“My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?” (v.1)
“I am poured out like water… my strength is dried up… they divide my garments among them.” (vv.14,18)
And then everything turns at verse 22:
“I will declare Your name to My brothers; in the midst of the congregation I will praise You.”
(Psalm 22:22)
Even in abandonment, He remembers the Father. Even in death, He gives thanks. And from that gratitude, He forms a new community—a people who won’t forget Him, and who won’t forget each other.
This is the family He’s still gathering.
Not one built on perfection, but on presence.
Not on achievement, but on remembering.
Not on judgment, but on love.
And when the time comes, the question won’t be, “Did you believe enough?”
It will be, “Did you remember Me when I was hungry? When I was thirsty? When I needed you?”
That’s what Jesus will remember.