Last August, a man I had never met came to my office with a long and sad story about his nephew who had lived with him for the summer. The man said his nephew had died of a drug overdose and he needed money to get to the funeral, which was quite a distance away. Even though I’m skeptical in cases like these, I always wrestle with the possibility that a story might actually be true. The man even asked me to help him write an obituary to read at the funeral. Well, since I had helped him write the obituary, I figured I needed to help him get to the funeral to read it. I found it easy to help this man with his need.

Several weeks later, the same man showed up at our midweek service with more sad stories, only now he was sharing them with anyone who would listen. When he saw me, he hugged me and thanked me for the prior assistance, assuring me he would pay it back in the near future. Within five minutes, several people came to me and asked if he was supposed to be raising money for himself in our choir room. I suddenly realized why he was there. When the man saw me walking to the choir room he started moving toward the exit. This time I found it easy to help him out—of our front door.

There are some people who are easier to help than others. Some people seem more genuinely needy. Some seem more appreciative of the help. Some seem more willing to take the help and then help themselves. But some others seem to prey upon our sense of compassion.

Helping Those with Little to Give Back
Peter had learned from Jesus that the nature of ministry involved helping people. Acts 9:32 says Peter was traveling around the country visiting the saints. Upon arriving in Lydda, he learned of a man named Aeneas who had been paralyzed and bedridden for eight years.

We would like to ask more questions: “How old were you, Aeneas, when you were paralyzed? How did it happen? How do you survive?” While we don’t know the answers to those questions, we understand that his life was quite limited. He undoubtedly had to rely on caregivers. In his culture, he would have been considered a person without much to contribute. He probably was quite invisible to the people in Lydda.

But he was not invisible to Peter. Peter stopped and focused his attention on Aeneas—probably something few people ever did. Peter addressed Aeneas, “Jesus Christ heals you. Get up and take care of your mat” (Acts 9:34).

Aeneas’s response was immediate—he got up and walked. This person who from a human perspective had little to give back, became a walking testimony of God’s power.

Helping Those With Much to Give Back
Some believers in Joppa learned that Peter was not far away. One of their beloved sisters had become sick and died. Her name was Tabitha, and she was also known as Dorcas. Dorcas was the kind of person everyone noticed. She was known to care for, love, and help people. At most funerals we hear the sentiment, “He/she will be missed.” Some, though, are missed more than others. They are people who have been so encouraging and helpful that they just can’t be replaced. Dorcas was one of those people.

We don’t know what the people of Joppa expected Peter to do when they asked him to come. Up to this point, he had never used his apostolic power to bring someone back from the dead, but he had been there when Jesus did it. Whatever the case, it speaks well for Peter that the people of Joppa asked him to come, because they knew he would do something to help them, even if it simply meant encouraging them through their grief.

Upon arriving, Peter heard the touching stories about Dorcas and saw the beautiful clothes she had made. Then, following Jesus’ example (Mark 5:40), he cleared the room, knelt down in prayer, and said, “Tabitha, get up.” He brought Dorcas back to life!

In both of these incidents—whether helping someone with seemingly little or much to give back, Peter helped, and people turned to the Lord as a result (vv. 35 and 42). And that is the usual result when we help others in the name of Christ.

As we leave this passage, Peter is staying with another Simon—a tanner—and waiting for his next opportunity to help.