June 19, 2008

•   I was just reading an article in the Washington Post about newsman Tim Russert, who died suddenly Friday at only 58.
     "No
  one could see Tim in a room and not smile," said his fellow journalist
  Diane Sawyer. "He brought so much joy and curiosity and sheer vitality
  to all our lives."
     What a testimony to a personality that glowed with love.
     I
  long to think that when I'm gone, somebody could say something like
  that about me. Not because I long to be famous, like Russert was, but
  because I long to glow with love. I long to be the kind of person that
  when people see me walk into a room, they smile, because love radiates
  from me in waves and touches them with joy.
     I long to be
  the kind of person who has an aura of peace around them, a person who
  doesn't sow discord, a person who doesn't repeat unkind rumors, a
  person who looks for the strengths, the good in people instead of the
  weaknesses and failings.  A person who helps build bridges, a person
  who helps heal hurts.
     I fall far short. But it is good to have an ideal, a goal to work toward.
  A
  long time ago in the Becomers Sunday School Class at the First
  Methodist Church in my Mississippi hometown, our teacher, my dear
  friend, had us memorize a lot of Scripture verses. And one of them was
  from Galatians, about the fruits of the Spirit. To me, it means if you
  have let God in and let Him have you, you will share His personality
  traits. Which are, according to the list in Galatians: Love. Joy.
  Peace. Patience. Kindness. Goodness. Faithfulness. Gentleness.
  Self-control.
     That list is a kind of a litmus test, for
  me. If I'm living the way I want to live, thinking the way I want to
  think, praying the way I want to pray, walking close to my Shepherd in
  His green pasture instead of wandering off into the brambles and poison
  ivy, my personality will start to glow, like His does, with all of
  those qualities. And Love is at the top of the list.
     If
  I'm walking in His light, I'll be ABLE to love. To me, that means I'll
  be able to see into people's hearts, past their masks, past their
  natural human personalities, and into the real person deep inside, the
  person God made them to be, the person they really want to be, the
  person they are in the process of becoming. The tender, inner person
  that most of us do our best to keep hidden and protected from a
  potentially hurtful world by building walls and putting on a variety of
  diversionary masks.
     And if you can pull that off, if you
  can look into people's hearts, you really CAN love everybody. That
  doesn't mean being best friends with everybody, or even really LIKING
  everybody. It doesn't mean that everybody is a person you'd choose to
  go on vacation with. But it does mean that you can look at them with
  God's eyes, just a little bit, and see the good in them. See that they
  are much like you, on the inside. That they have their hopes and fears
  and dreams and hurts, too. That they are, in their inmost tender core,
  longing to be loved — just like you are, just like I am.
     Loving
  people like this has been a challenge for me always. You can just
  imagine that it was sometimes difficult when I was teaching school. I
  usually had no trouble loving my junior high and high-school kids, but
  every once in a while, I'd get one that I just couldn't make myself
  like. I remember one in particular. She was from a wealthier family
  than most of the kids in our little school, and was better-dressed, and
  had a smart mouth. She was famous for her sharp, "cool" put-downs of
  other kids, and she turned her sarcastic tongue on me more than once. I
  really felt like she hated me the first year she was in my English
  class, and believe me, she wasn't my favorite.
     I would
  reluctantly pray for her sometimes, because He says we're supposed to
  pray for our enemies. I made lots of mistakes. But my Shepherd
  faithfully helped me when I'd drop the ball. He really wanted me to
  love her.
     Let me just tell you this. After she had
  graduated, three years after I had first taught her, I was at the first
  high school football game of the next season, and I saw her walking
  along the front of the bleachers, all dressed up, home from Ole Miss.
  She spotted me in the stands and climbed all the way up in her high
  heels to give me a hug and sit by me for a little while. I was glad to
  see her, I really was. Love had won.
     However, I’m sorry
  to tell you, there have been others over the years whom I've really
  struggled to love, and still haven't succeeded. One in particular has
  hated me ever since we first met when we were teenagers, and to be
  perfectly honest, I harbor a deep dislike for her, too. I need to pray
  more for her. I need to pray for her as she cares for her elderly
  mother, pray for her marriage, pray for her children — but to be
  honest, I rarely do. I need to get serious about it.
      I
  hope before we die, we'll be able to look into each other's hearts with
  love, and see the real women hiding inside. And to forgive each other
  for a long lifetime litany of hurts and resentments, with the help of
  the One Who forgave us. And be able to glow more brightly with love.
  By Celia DeWoody
  Copyright Harrison (Ark.) Daily Times 2008
  

  
  

  
  
  
  
  
  
  

  • 10:30 pm
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