HOW ARE YOU? HOW ARE YOU REALLY?

Each day we never know whose steps will interact with ours.  My joy and privilege was to greet people who come into our church.  This was such a delight for me.    I yearn that my life, in some small way, create a compelling environment to help people grow closer and deeper in their love and knowledge of Jesus Christ; and, to “be” the “tangible expression of Christ.”  Or, if they haven’t invited Him into their life and begun a real and personal relationship with Jesus, my desire is that they will want this to become reality for themselves.

My reference to joy in greeting people is due in part because in the manner in which I greeted each person, I had the opportunity to express to them, through a smile, a touch, or a word, that they are “significant to God.”  I wanted them to know before they ever sit down in the building, that they’re been touched by God’s love and acceptance.

A compass truth that God has been working into my life is this:

“After people spend time with me, what do they think of Jesus Christ?”

Often people will ask me how I can be so friendly to others when, in many instances, I’m usually the “new” person.  God spoke to my heart about this issue, because I’ve been the new person so much of my life, and in the many new life’s settings we’ve been placed in. But what has God impressed upon me when I walk into a new setting is:

“Dianne, leave yourself in the car!”

That’s the key.  And for greeting others on Sunday, I’m to leave myself (my fears, my agenda, my needs) in the car, and go in and “represent Jesus Christ” to every heart coming through the doors.

Each handshake can be a prayer for that person.   I noticed people  who momentarily lingered for a warm handshake, a smile, and an acknowledgement that they are so special to God.   He wants to welcome them, through little personal ways, letting them know that He is “so glad they are there.”

I want to share two encounters that have refreshed my heart as I practiced this practical outreach.

A number of years ago, I woke up one Sunday morning in a “not so good frame of mind.”  I just didn’t feel like “welcoming” this particular Sunday.    But, thanks to the Lord, I went anyway.   There was a widow who arrived at the front entrance of the church.   I always feel they need a special touch or a hug.  As this lady approached me this morning, I gave her a hug, and then, prompted within, pulled her close again for a longer embrace.   Afterwards she looked at me and said these words (please read them slowly):

“Dianne, I needed that extra hug this morning.  You are the only one who touches me all week.”

What an impact her words had on me that day.  We just never know the burdens, anxieties, cares and grief that are encased within the heart and soul of each person we meet.

Just recently, an opportunity to listen, really listen, came upon my life.   A man was coming toward the entry to our church lobby, and I noticed that another man had already said the normal hellos and how are you?    But what caught my attention was his comment:

“Do you really want to know?”

Our normal hellos aren’t always accurate, are they?  They can seem more like a statement than a question.   The two of them spoke for a short time and then he came toward me.    The week before he had shared that his precious Mom who had been hospitalized for many months and was not doing well.

I just knew in my heart, grief was overwhelming him.   I didn’t use those words, how are you this morning?  I just opened my arms and a flood of tears began to flow from him.    He continued pouring out his heart for over 30 minutes.   After he had gained some composure, I walked arm-in-arm through the corridors of the church towards the sanctuary, where the church service was well beyond the half way mark in time.

God had already prepared us both for our time together.  I was able to briefly share about the passing of my own mother and what I had felt from this loss.   I didn’t say much to this man, but my arms and tears embraced his hurt.  He told me later than he appreciated my walking “with him” in his heart-felt grief that morning.

If you’ve ever experienced “grief” you know, only too well, that there just aren’t sufficient or adequate words for a hurting heart.

May you and I be reminded that the next time we ask someone, “How are you?” that we stay around and listen, really listen to how they really are?

KINDNESS IS A LANGUAGE THAT THE DEAF CAN HEAR AND THE BLIND CAN SEE