Originally posted on Facebook, July 4, 2011.
I’ve had a song on continuous loop today by the David Crowder Band, punctuated by a couple phone calls…
The day is brighter here with You
The night is lighter than its hue would lead me to believe
Which leads me to believe…
“Hey Jen, it’s [former client’s coworker] at [workplace redacted]. I know you’re not [former client]’s job coach anymore, but he’s having a day…”
You make everything glorious
And I am Yours
“Jen, it’s [same coworker] again. Sorry to keep bothering you, but [boss] just threatened to fire [former client]. I tried to stop him, but…”
What does that make me?
He makes everything glorious. Everything includes everyone. The frazzled coworker who thinks of nowhere else to turn but to someone who shouldn’t be involved anymore. The frustrated boss who doesn’t know what else to do other than yell. The former client whose life’s routine has been systematically smashed over the last two months, leaving him with no coping skills in the front of his mind beyond those that endanger his job. The current clients who have roadblocks they seem to want in their lives. The clients’ families who are so consumed with sheltering their children that they won’t let them be the full individuals they are. The friends with drama, and the perpetrators of drama. They’re all glorious, because God made them, and everything He makes is touched with His glory.
Me. Me too. Little old me, the fat ugly nerd in the back row, the socially inept overly-introverted bungler, the insecure depressive neurotic with enough issues to make a five-year subscription to Newsweek. God made me. Whether He made me in young-earth or old-earth or intelligent-design fashion or whatever, He made me, and everything God makes is touched with His glory.
Wow. When did I get to be glorious? Right along with everything and everyone I love to hate on?
Mind you, Evangelical social conservatives, this might be a difficult thought for you. This means the Democrat next door, the atheist down the street, the Jew in the next cubicle, the Muslim at corporate, the gay couple who moved into your old apartment, the girl from high school who had an abortion, and the guy on the bus who talks about the hardcore porn he watched last night are also touched with God’s glory. To deny that is to deny that God made them, because everything God makes is touched with His glory.
I wonder what would happen if we saw ourselves and each other through that lens. Would we be so caught up in trying to make sure that everything is comfortable for us? Would we consider it so important that everyone think and act and look and vote and dress and eat the same way we do?
Or – gasp and choke – would we try to do a better job of balancing all the truths God gives us?
Would we show God’s love by example, instead of just words? Would we pray for and unconditionally care for and love on others, instead of beating them over the head with just how wrong they are and just how right we are? Would we think it’s OK to be friends with someone who’s different and to find value in them as they are, where they are, for who they are? Would we honestly view everyone we see as belonging to God, made by God, reflections of God – instead of condemning so many of them as rejects or abominations? Would we feel more free to confess our own abominable actions with the understanding that our actions do not make us abominations? Would we accept that about others, and would we accept it enough to cease judgment and self-righteousness? Would we carefully examine all the biases, prejudices, stereotypes and -isms we hold dear, if we really believed God makes everything glorious?
Let that be a challenge. I don’t challenge people I don’t love. He makes everything glorious, and that includes you. You’re touched with God’s glory, just like everyone else; act like it.