While attending Moody Graduate School in Chicago, campus housing was not available for my wife and me, so we ended up renting an apartment right around the corner on fashionable Oak Street. One morning I noticed Shoo, the local shoeshine man. Like a barker at a carnival, he would offer to shine the shoes (for a donation) of bustling passersby during the early morning rush.

On that particular day, however, a stretch limo pulled up in front of Shoo, and out of the vehicle stepped a gentleman who was dressed like a cover model for GQ magazine. Rather than asking for a shoeshine, he sat Shoo down and polished his scuffed and tattered shoes. When finished, he handed Shoo a tip—a $100 bill—and then returned to his waiting vehicle, never saying a word.

When I returned home that evening, my wife asked how my day at school had gone. I explained that on my way to class to learn about Jesus, I saw someone who acted a whole lot like Jesus. To this day I cannot remember what I learned in my theology classes that particular day, but it is hard to forget the lesson I learned at the corner of Oak and Rush from Shoo and the man who acted like Jesus.