Is there a better reminder than our recent visit to the Conway [...]]]> I've wondered what single thought might be appropriate to share as we step into the year 2000. As we seek to better our relationships with God and with each other, there is one that should burn within: God does not see as man sees.

Is there a better reminder than our recent visit to the Conway Human Development Center to sing Christmas carols to the clients? Despite having been there more than 5,000 times to visit our daughter Jenny, I was still sobered by what I saw. There is little that's physically attractive at CHDC.

Instead, we see the permanent scars of physical deformity and mental incapacity. We might be revolted by the ravages that others' bodies and minds have suffered and the "ugliness" that remains. We are inclined to express pity in the same breath that we thank God that neither our beautiful children nor we are in such a plight.

But we must remember this: God does not see as man sees. Man may look on the outward appearance and be repulsed. On the other hand, God looks at the heart… to the soul that will live forever. And I wonder if He might not be repulsed Himself by the ugliness of sin that He may see there.

We are even quick to measure others' spirituality by the yardstick of outward appearance: how they look or what they wear or what they do. And as important as these are, God looks far deeper. Does He see in us hearts of tenderness and compassion and forgiveness, hearts eager to please Him, hearts willing to change our own outward ways that would cause others to inwardly stumble? That's His standard.

Instead or primping and preening to cast the "outer man" in the best light for the sake of others, we would be better served to deal with the "inner man," whose state before God is of far greater concern. And before Him it stands naked and bare.

A DIFFERENT EYE

In early life she oft did fall,
Sins of crimson, known to all.
Called a harlot (what a scourge),
Marked forever by that word.

Yet in the end God lifts her high;
Works by faith did justify.
By her faith more fruit He'd bring:
Rahab's line gave Christ the King.

Though men her lifestyle might decry,
Our God has a different eye.
We're reluctant to embrace
Those who fall in sin's disgrace.

But God who sees beyond what shows,
To the heart that no man knows,
With discernment in the end,
Reconciled her faith and sin.

Copyright 2000 James McAlister

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Casting dignity aside leaves a void that will be filled by [...]]]> A significant aspect of our culture is slowly dying. It could be described in many ways, but it's basically the quality of being worthy of esteem or respect. To a large degree it determines how we view and treat each other. We call it dignity.

Casting dignity aside leaves a void that will be filled by something else … often with unsavory results. There are many examples. Honking horns. Wall-rattling, irritating noise from passing vehicles. Public irritability, impatience, and obscene gestures. Backward hats and slouching frames. We tend to write off such behaviors as simply signs of the crudity of the day in which we live. But they are really more than that. They are indicators that dignity is being displaced.

But sparks of real dignity remain. Even amidst the rubble of rudeness, dormant sparks can unexpectedly break into open flame, warming others in their glow. Let me share, with his permission, a particularly touching example from our son Barrett's journal. Oh, that we would all have the attitude of the little man in this experience! Dignity might just be recaptured. Here's the story in Barrett's words:

I was in a hurry. Driving down the street a little too fast, I was muttering about the fact that I was going to be late.

As luck would have it, I looked up and saw a little man in front of me trying to cross the street. Exasperated, I slammed on my brakes and complained about my difficult lot in life. I looked and saw that I could go around him, but I saw in my rear view mirror that there were many cars behind me. The little man was already in the middle of the street, so I stayed where I was.

As I sat there, cars behind me begin to honk, and the man in the first car behind me began to make obscene gestures while saying less than wholesome words. I watched the old man as he shuffled across the street. He was hunched over, wearing slacks and a sweater that had at one time fit his robust, but now bony, frame. He had a wrapped package under his arm, no doubt a present he had bought for his wife in the store he had just left.

Tears filled my eyes as I watched him step up to the opposite sidewalk that had been his goal. Then, with all the strength he could muster, he turned and looked at me. As I waved at him, he did what to so many thousands of older Americans conveys the highest respect. He stood up straight, pulled his heels together, and saluted me.

Copyright 1999 James McAlister

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