But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.â? Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christâ??s power may rest on me.â??2 Corinthians 12:9
It was one of those messy days, when my private world needed as much of my attention as my public world. While writing a lengthy email personal letter to a relative in distress, I also was trying to get a blanket mailing out ahead of a pre-set deadline.
A few days later, my relative called to question the "cold" closing Iâ??d used to sign-off (Sincerely, Randall K Kilgore). I began to get a sinking feeling about the general mailing. Sure enough, the people receiving the other letter were asked to "Give Amy and the kids a big kiss from Crazy Randy.â?
A lot of people got a good laugh at my expense, and I got a new nickname: "Crazy Randyâ?. That one stuck around awhile. I learned two things that day: First, that people in distress are paying careful attention to everything we do and say. All the expressions of love and support in that letter were almost completely undone by what seemed like a stiff, impersonal sign-off. When people need us, they need all of us---focused and attentive.
Second, I learnedâ??againâ??how humor breaks barriers. Even though I picked up a new nickname, this humorous error made me more human, more vulnerable to the people to whom I was writing.
These truths carry over well beyond written communications. People in trials often feel like damaged goods. The struggles they face make them feel marked, and they often think theyâ??re the only ones facing what theyâ??re facing. Making matters worse, the isolation this fast-paced culture creates leaves them convinced people are too busy to hear them out or to stay to hold their hand or help them through what theyâ??re facing. Frequently, like my stiff closing to the letter, signs we send them reinforce this sense that theyâ??re damaged, that weâ??re only paying attention because we have to, or that weâ??re only half-listening. Any time we can give our undivided attention to someone who needs us, we give them one of the most important gifts we can offer. This mirrors the attention God offers usâ??and themâ??making it possible for them to believe if we care that much, how much more so might God.
Moreover, a lost soul rarely sees God in our crafted lives, the "Iâ??m-not-a-sinner-anymoreâ? masks we hide behind because we think weâ??re supposed to be "betterâ? now that weâ??re saved. Much more often, itâ??s in the broken pieces of the real us that lost souls see Godâ??s reflection, giving them hope they too can be received while they're still broken; and reminding them not only that weâ??re works in progress, but that God is constantly present in those upon whom His work has begun.
Others come to us unexpectedly, not knowing they need our hope or message because theyâ??re clipping along at a fine pace with few visible roadblocks or speed-bumps. God introduces us into their lives, sometime even using acts of brokenness or humor. When we respond with Christ-like humility to our missteps, these people are more likely to identify us as a go-to person of faith, someone to seek out should they hit a speed-bump or roadblock; or worse, should the storms they see around them in other people's lives catch up to them.
As we begin this season of Hope, may weâ??broken people in the process of being made whole by Godâ??help other broken people find Him.
Have a blessed Thanksgiving.