2nd Opinion: See Jesus in people who know him

2nd opinion

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I’ve seen Jesus. And this is how it happened.

When you are young, you don’t realize your mother has a special radar. God gives it to her when she has children. So on the night I came home late from a youth event at my church, my mother’s very keen radar was working overtime. I unlocked the back door and quietly tiptoed toward the kitchen for a midnight snack. I left the lights off and carefully opened the refrigerator. That’s when I saw Jesus.

Our youth minister wanted us to seek the presence of Christ in our lives. His message that night was powerful. A small group of us stayed after the meeting and talked about spiritual things, the deep things of God. That is why I was late. As I drove home I was praying: “Lord, let me see you. Jesus, let me see you.” I was sincere as a teenager can be. I truly wanted to see Jesus, I thought.

Before I tell you any more about seeing Jesus, I want to tell you about my mother. My mother was a dedicated Christian, a prayer warrior, an esteemed Bible teacher adored by little children and a fine representative of God’s kingdom. But she also had a mean streak. If my mother thought she could scare you, scare you really big, she went on the attack. Perhaps my tardiness pushed her over the edge that night. Who knows. What I do know is that my mother heard me when I unlocked the back door. She got out of bed and silently, cat-like, and with questionable intent, my sweet little mother crept into the darkness of our kitchen and stood as close to me as she dared without revealing her presence. Just stood there in the darkness. In her long white gown and robe. With her white fluffy slippers. Quietly. Silently. Waiting.

As the faint light of the refrigerator filtered just beyond the refrigerator door, and as I bent over peering into the culinary possibilities, and while still deep, deep in prayer, precisely at that moment, a tiny ray of illumination fell across the bottom of my mother’s long, white robe, not a foot away from where I stood. As my peripheral vision alerted me to the fact that I was not alone in that shadowy darkness, my response was immediate, and unmistakable. Instead of thanking God that Jesus was near, I nearly ripped the refrigerator door from its hinges as I let out a primordial howl and attempted to distance myself from what I thought was the answer to my prayer. To put it simply and clearly, seeing Jesus standing in my kitchen in the dark freaked me out. At least for a few seconds. Then I noticed that Jesus belly laughed just l like my mother. And I don’t think Jesus ever wore fuzzy slippers.

Sometimes, in an instant, worlds collide. And our two worlds collided that night in front of our Frigidaire. A boy thinking about Jesus and a mother thinking about her boy.

I’ve learned a lot since that night. I’ve learned the best way to see Jesus is in the people who know him. Jesus is seen in acts of kindness, in tender mercies, in forgiveness and restoration of friendships, in sacrifice and honor, in righting wrongs and fighting injustices. In caring for something other than self.

I have seen Jesus in the congregations where I was pastor. They went the extra mile. They turned the other cheek. They left the judging to God and obeyed Jesus’ simple command to “love one another.” They gave generously, served faithfully and prayed earnestly. They were Jesus to me.

Brenda and I have missed worshipping with a congregation where we were serving each week, but we are forever grateful they allowed us to see Jesus in them through the years.


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I never again asked God to let me see Jesus after that experience in my kitchen long years ago. I’m glad I didn’t have to. For since that dark night, I have seen Jesus a thousand times in the radiant lives of those who know and love him. I am thankful to them, dear friends, for the privilege.

 

Charles Walton retired last fall after serving as pastor of First Baptist Church in Conroe 14 years and serving in the ministry 40 years.

 


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