I dicovered a chip on the lip of my favorite mug. "Aw, look, Bruce, the dishwasher chipped my favorite mug."
"You should just throw it away," Bruce said. "It's no good with a chip where you could scratch your mouth every time you take a sip."
But I really like that mug. It's not ready for the garbage can yet.
Isn't that kind of like people, too?
We see some obvious physical flaw or handicap and we tend to make a negative emotional judgment about them. Maybe it's an unconscious thing, but it's there, nonetheless.
We tend to think, " That person wouldn't be able to work in the children's Sunday school."
Or maybe we discount someone because he or she's been very emotionally wounded. "That person probably shouldn't be in a teaching position."
Maybe it's because a person is old. Don't we tend to expect older seniors to just kinda hang out with the older crowd? What does that old person have in common with younger, more energetic church-goers?
God doesn't see the emotionally wounded or old person or handicapped individual as less useful.
The "chip" shows that the wounded man or woman has gained insights into suffering and God's grace.
The "handicapped" individual learns humility and coping skills in ways we probably can't even imagine.
The older people have lived longer and accumulated such wealth of experience through:
physical suffering,
financial challenges
parenting and grandparenting
years on the job
years of faithful church service
years of working on their marriages
years of making and keeping friends
I could go on and on. . .
My injured mug has now become a left-handed cup. That is, as I'm the only lefty in the family, I'm the only one who gets to use my beloved chipped mug. When I hold the handle with my left hand, the chip is on the other side.
That mug is special and beautiful.
When I feel stressed, the cute, smiling snowmen that wrap around the mug, seem to say, "Grab a good book, pour some hot cocoa, pull a chair up to the fire, and relax with us."
I love my chipped mug.
I'm definitely not throwing it away.
Some "chipped" people touch others in ways the "perfect" ones can't.
"You should just throw it away," Bruce said. "It's no good with a chip where you could scratch your mouth every time you take a sip."
But I really like that mug. It's not ready for the garbage can yet.
Isn't that kind of like people, too?
We see some obvious physical flaw or handicap and we tend to make a negative emotional judgment about them. Maybe it's an unconscious thing, but it's there, nonetheless.
We tend to think, " That person wouldn't be able to work in the children's Sunday school."
Or maybe we discount someone because he or she's been very emotionally wounded. "That person probably shouldn't be in a teaching position."
Maybe it's because a person is old. Don't we tend to expect older seniors to just kinda hang out with the older crowd? What does that old person have in common with younger, more energetic church-goers?
God doesn't see the emotionally wounded or old person or handicapped individual as less useful.
The "chip" shows that the wounded man or woman has gained insights into suffering and God's grace.
The "handicapped" individual learns humility and coping skills in ways we probably can't even imagine.
The older people have lived longer and accumulated such wealth of experience through:
physical suffering,
financial challenges
parenting and grandparenting
years on the job
years of faithful church service
years of working on their marriages
years of making and keeping friends
I could go on and on. . .
My injured mug has now become a left-handed cup. That is, as I'm the only lefty in the family, I'm the only one who gets to use my beloved chipped mug. When I hold the handle with my left hand, the chip is on the other side.
That mug is special and beautiful.
When I feel stressed, the cute, smiling snowmen that wrap around the mug, seem to say, "Grab a good book, pour some hot cocoa, pull a chair up to the fire, and relax with us."
I love my chipped mug.
I'm definitely not throwing it away.
Some "chipped" people touch others in ways the "perfect" ones can't.
No comments:
Post a Comment