Although I am not certain of this, I will assume that it happens. Play along with me and see if you agree. On any given day a woman somewhere crawls out of bed, shuffles to the bathroom and stands before the bathroom sink. She washes her hands and splashes cold water on her face.
At some point she looks up and takes note of herself in the mirror. She notices the dark places under her eyes. She pokes at a newly found wrinkle. She smiles, turns to the profile and tries to see what she looks like from that vantage point. She runs her hands through her hair and wonders what she would look like if it were a different color, with more curls, shorter perhaps.
Somewhere in all of this she comes to the realization that she doesn't actually look like she thought she looked. If she were to have had to describe herself she would have never mentioned the wrinkles, the dark spots or the stringy out of shape hair. She sees herself as a much more attractive woman. (Don't get angry with me ladies, I'm trying to make a point).
She walks to the phone, makes an appointment and at the given time, in a few hours or a few days she walks into the salon, takes a seat in the styling chair and tells the "makeover specialist" something along the lines of, "Make me look different".
The chair is raised, the cape is secured in place and she closes her eyes and lowers her head as the "specialist" begins to cut away and do what she does best. .
It might not happen exactly like that, but this is my story so let me run.
I was forced to look into a couple of mirrors today.
On April 27th one of the most intense outbreaks of tornados hit the state of Alabama in the history of the state. 200 plus people lost their lives. Hundreds upon hundreds of homes were destroyed and lives changed.
As I have done for the last 41 years, I responded. After all, that's my job. I'm not sure exactly when I changed from a kid who always depended on his Dad and Mom to protect and provide for him. Logically I would think it was when I joined the U.S. Coast Guard as a teenager but I'm not sure. At any rate, somewhere along the way, I became a "fixer". I begin to feel like if something went wrong, if someone was in trouble, if someone was facing danger, I would respond and "fix" things.
My office was a sinking ship, a burning house, a wrecked vehicle or in the back of a speeding ambulance. I did my best work in hostile environments. Hurricanes, tornadoes, winter storms, droughts were the pages my reports were written on. Early mornings, late nights, overtime hours were when my time was logged. I fixed things. And that made me feel good. After all, wasn't that what a good Christian man was supposed to do? Doesn't the Word tell us that "In as much as you have done it unto one of the least of these, you have done it unto Me"? I was doing God's will.
But today in two separate situations, I was forced to look into two mirrors and like the aforementioned ladies, I didn't like what I saw. 41 years of emergency calls, rescues, fires, and "fixin" the messes that other people get into have, to say the least, made me hard. Can I do the job? Yes I think I still can. Can I get things done and accomplish the task before me? I think my work record has proven that. But let me tell you what I saw in the mirror.
After a disaster the Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA) sends representatives to each area to do what they call Public Relations. They personally go to each home that is suffering from effects of the disaster no matter how large or small the damage and if at all possible, they speak to the people. They tell them that FEMA is there to help. Whether or not FEMA actually ever helps these people is a story in it's self but this is the job of the PR folks.
Two FEMA people walked into my office today, unannounced. The first was a man from Porto Rica. He spoke broken English and had been flown by our government to represent FEMA in good ole Chilton County. His counter part was a black woman from Washington D.C.
Those of you who know me will understand the complaints that ran through my mind, if not through my mouth. How much money the government has wasted sending these people here to do what I can do in one hour. But since they are here, and since the faster I get rid of them the faster I can get back to work, I drove them around to see the people affected by the storm that hit our county.
One lady in particular had called the office just this morning to report that she had lots of limbs and trees down in her yard. She stated that she lived alone and needed help, I had been in her area on the night of the storm. I had been in her area the day following the storm. I had not seen any home with trees down and limbs in the yard but we drove to her residence. The yard was clean. The closest trees were 100 yards in the back of her house. I grumbled (grumped). "That crazy old lady doesn't have any damage. She has wasted our time".
But as I mumbled and grumbled around the yard, the black lady from Washington D.C. stood and listened to the old lady. She commented that we all are concerned about her and her health and safety and that we understand that taking care of our yards is important. In a few minutes the old lady reached out and hugged the black lady and they left each other waving like old friends.
Ouch, that hurt!
But God wasn't through with me. I drove back to the office and got an email from a friend containing a "blog" from the wife of a local T.V. meteorologist. She spoke of her visit to the heavily damaged areas and how her heart longed to reach out to those in need. She told of her compassion for them. She told how her heart hurt for them. She confessed that she and her husband had shed tears for their suffering.
I thought of my feelings when I saw the devastation. I thought of my words as I walked among people just like them. My thoughts were not to hug them. My thoughts were not to tell them everything was going to be alright. My thoughts were, "Stop sitting around. Get up. Get to work. There is plenty to do. Don't wait on me to help you, help yourselves".
As I looked into those two mirrors I suddenly realized that I did not look like I would have described myself. The care and compassion that I had once showed to those I helped had grown hard and calloused. Oh yes, I did the job but I didn't do the job out of a heart of love.
A scripture from the 13th chapter of I Corinthians quickly came to mind. "Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angles and have not love, I am become as a sounding brass and a tinkling symbol" In Chilton County words that verse would have sounded something like this.
"Though I run to help you and fix your problems. Though I stand between you and danger. If I don't do it out of a heart of love, I'm might as well be a tinkling wind chime blowing in the summer breeze". I looked into the mirror and didn't like what I saw.
So while I pulled weeds from around my watermelons I made a call to the "makeover specialist". I bowed my head and closed my eyes and asked Him to make me look different.
I think it is incumbent upon people who call themselves Christian to at the very least look and act like Christ. I don't want to just "do the work", I don't want to just "fix" stuff. I want to do it from a heart of love. I want to look like my Father.
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