Trying to do better about assisting others in need, I crossed
the street on my morning walk, to help our paper deliverer family, when their
minivan was stuck turning from an icy alleyway onto the roadway. The three
children piled out to push and I began to help, though the icy pavement gave me
little traction. Mom had hung up on a depression in the ice and was quickly
spinning down to bare pavement. Water sprayed from the front tire, but our pushing
wasn’t enough. The children and I stepped aside to consider the options. 

She tried again, spinning faster this time, so fast the
dirty water sprayed my new light gray coat.
Oops, I should have seen that coming.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” she called.

“It’s okay,” I said, hoping the spots would wipe off the
plasticized fabric.

We did finally get her pushed out, after she burned a large
enough hole in the ice and I saw a toehold of dry ground to push from. I walked
away, realizing there was probably oil in the water that wouldn’t come out of my coat.Bummer.

When we help, we sometimes pay a price that the one we help
doesn’t completely appreciate. However, Jesus appreciates every price we pay. He
suffers with each of us—those who pay the prices and those who need the help. 

Let’s help our children with their homework today, even
though it costs us our evening. Let’s help a sick co-worker this afternoon,
though it costs us fifteen minutes of our lunch hour. Let’s ask for grace not
to count the cost when someone needs us. 

About my coat—actually, I think the spots match the color! 

Jesus, thank you for caring
about the prices we pay, even promising reward for helping others. 

For the Son of Man will come with his angels in the glory of
his Father, and then he will reward each
person according to what he has done.Matthew 16:27, NET 

From a block away, I could see the electric wire feeding our neighbor’s house sparkling in the early morning sun, a line of silver from the transformer to the house. That twisted wire, altered by the sun’s angle, put me in mind of ultimate realities. If only we could see all of the creation, all of the time, in that heavenly glow.

One day, I actually saw that glow resting on people. A few years ago, entering a local restaurant, I climbed the three inside steps into the small, wallpapered space full of wainscoted booths and glanced around to find my friend. Each stranger held my eye for a second longer than usual, so I could take in the sparkle that had settled on each one.

They were luminous.

It’s the only way I’ve ever been able to describe what I saw; what I have not yet seen again. As if seeing through the eyes of the Light of the world, I saw his creation as he does. I’m not implying everyone there was his child, i.e., in a saving relationship with Jesus, but each one is his creation, lovingly created by his tender hand.

I met another friend in that restaurant this morning. Our conversation was full of the Spirit, though the illumination was ordinary. But the memory always comes back when I return to that place. The image of those luminous strangers reminds me of Jesus’ great desire to shine in all our lives. We are more than twisted wire; more than ordinary people. We are the creation of the Light of the world, he who alone determines our value and beauty.

Jesus, may we see ourselves through your light-filled eyes.