I was driving in a small Texas town recently, and, as a photographer, find many photo-worthy stops along the way. There was one little building that seemed worth the stop. It looks like a barn and was probably a tractor garage at one point. The sun has beaten the paint and wood to a bleach-streaked vintage work of art. The details of the cracks and chipping paint make it picturesque. As I continued to drive and think of those times I’ve jumped out of the car on the side of the road, I realized I was enamored with something these buildings were never meant for. They were built for very important reasons, to keep the weather from precious contents inside. The barns kept things dry, the garages protected essential equipment, and the old farmhouses were still standing because they were made to protect families. I’m certainly guilty, as a photographer, of appreciating what you see.
We live in a world enamored with the shell. We focus on what we look like far more than what we ARE like. It’s easier to change our clothes and seem accepted, on point, in charge or cooler than the rest of us than it is to work on our heart. Jesus said some of the people of his day were like whitewashed tombs. Inside the tomb, there was only death and disintegration, while it could look stately and beautiful on the outside. That’s a sobering thought as I walk along historic cemetery routes. Regardless of how tall, wide or pristine the memorial, the inside contents are the same. What we yield to and do for God and others will last. The externals are a poor judge of the internal contents.
The visual I had of church as a child was a group of nice, pleasant people who all had it together. Looking back, I realize there was no correlation to how well you were dressed and how “together” your life was. I appreciate when people want to put on their best for worship and admire that. That is not focusing on the internals but changing the externals for an honorable internal value. I also appreciate people who tend to dress as they normally would coming to God with a dressed-up heart attitude toward God.
The heart attitude is something all of us work on, and we tend to know when we are putting on a show. We know how it is to look our best while we feel at our worst. To look “sharp” at a funeral, even our own someday, is quite the irony. This is something for other writings. Today I am interested in not how we portray or project ourselves, but how we place values on others.
We’ve all seen those amazing cars sparkle in the sun with rich, black tires and a big sign in the windshield that promises anyone is already approved. We love the car but must come to grips with the realization that the cars probably have exceptionally high mileage. The exterior says nothing of the true value of the car, which is to transport those you love with some degree of dependability.
God’s Word is our internal mirror. Our way to learn what to espouse in ourselves and what to cherish about others. When we truly make loving God and others our heart’s desire, we will both realize and appreciate the deeper things of life. What was once ugly, easily dismissed, reproachable even, may become the most beautiful treasure you’ve ever held, the most gracious sight you’ve gazed upon.
“We now have this light shining in our hearts, but we ourselves are like fragile clay jars containing this great treasure. This makes it clear that our great power is from God, not from ourselves” (2 Corinthians 4:7, NLT).