NorthStar Community Daily Devotional

May 16

Scripture focus: “This is the crisis we're in: God-light streamed into the world, but men and women everywhere ran for the darkness. They went for the darkness because they were not really interested in pleasing God. Everyone who makes a practice of doing evil, addicted to denial and illusion, hates God-light and won't come near it, fearing a painful exposure. But anyone working and living in truth and reality welcomes God-light so the work can be seen for the God-work it is." John 3:19-21 The Message

Before I headed off to run my errands, I had spent the morning in the gospel of John. Chapter three gripped me. Men and women running for the darkness? How can this be? Don’t we all love the light? I, for one, am interested in pleasing God. I want the truth! I love God light. I long for a reality that is infused with God-light and truth. Who are these numbskulls that practice doing evil and are addicted to denial and illusion? I think this before my run-in with a woman who can’t spell McBean – M-C-B-E-A-N.

This is a problem of crisis proportion.

When I care more about running an errand in less than a New York minute so that I can get back to my oh so special work, you know what I’m doing? I’m running for darkness. I’m not interested in pleasing God. I am practicing evil, addicted to denial and illusion, hating God-light, fearing a painful exposure.

As the rookie clerk scurries off for back-up, I’m given the privilege – the grace – the gift of God-light – just in the nick of time. In a flash, my mind returns to John three. I know with clarity that I am in crisis. I have an opportunity to choose. Am I willing to work and live in truth and reality?

The clerk returns, harried and without support. But this time, I am not in a hurry. I am in the middle of a crisis, and grateful for the insight to know that this encounter is a big deal – because it will show me what I truly believe. I have an idea. “Can I write it down for you? Would that help?” Ahh, yes, she nods. Pen in hand, I write, M C B E A N. I take the paper and turn it toward her. She looks down and the light of recognition transforms her worried face. Quickly she bends, reaches into the bin marked “M” and whips out my prescription. Success.

It took longer than I thought it should – and for that I thank God. I’m a slow learner, and I needed the time to understand the opportunity I had been presented. This woman is new to her job. Keeping it may be essential. My work is barely worth doing – involving correcting footnotes and adding a bibliography to a book that maybe four people will actually read. Whether or not I get it fixed, or even right, will not change whether my family will eat tonight. For this elderly woman, back in the workforce without the benefit of a firm grounding in the English language, she’s really working. I thank her for her patience – and mean it. I move away and a gentleman steps up to the counter.

“McPherson,” he says. She glances up at him, puzzled.

“You write down,” she encourages, handing him the pen. She glances at me and smiles, gives a small wave and watches as Mr. McPherson makes it easy for her to find that pesky bin of “M’s.” I leave with a prescription, a grateful heart and I suspect a new friend.



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