A Living Witness to Love
An agnostic friend recently asked me, “Why do you want me to change? Why do you care what I believe?” I pressed my lips together, thinking, “I don’t want you to go to hell and you’re missing out on the greatest love possible in life.”
If I’d said that aloud, my friend most likely would have ended the conversation with words like, “My life is pretty good and loving as it is, thank you, and I don’t believe in hell.”
So I followed my second thought. “I know where you’re coming from. I was so much like you. After a not quite dismissive, “Humpf”, she was silent.
So was I, musing, thinking back to those days, until a memory of Pops put a smile on my face. I broke the stillness to say, “Can I tell you about a man who wanted me to change? I didn’t listen to him back then, but his life sure encouraged me to believe.”
She nodded a yes, so I began—
“He was a businessman, a philanthropist, and a friend to many, including me, his daughter-in-law. He sat on more important committees than I can recall. When he died the Mayor of Chicago and the Governor of Illinois sent their condolences and the balcony of 4th Presbyterian in Chicago was filled to standing room only. But that’s not what I remember most about him. Above all, I remember his joy and how he loved little children—how it delighted him to give them good things.
“At family dinners, he sat at the head of a long formal dining table. Our youngest child was always given the seat of honor, with a high chair pulled up close to his right hand. The second youngest sat within reach of his arm, on a telephone book or booster seat beside his younger sibling’s high chair.
“During the meal, Pops carefully selected the tenderest tidbits of steak, the juiciest morsels of fruit, the choicest bits of vegetable and the richest looking bites of golden brown biscuit from his own plate. He’d lather butter on the breads and rolls and spread them with dollops of jam. Then he’d set his best on a little child’s high chair tray or plate with a spontaneous joy and flourish. “Yum!” he’d say. “You’re a lucky duck! Do you know you’re a lucky duck?
“And the little ones would eat up those bite-sized bits from his dinner and smile at him and he’d smile back at them and everyone at the table would smile and we’d all be happy.
“Pops loved good food and knew the difference between excellence and mediocrity. His strip steaks were dry-aged prime beef; his cloverleaf rolls were hot, freshly baked from a family recipe that outdid anything in any Chicago five star restaurant. The jam he generously spread on rolls was from berries he’d watched ripen and helped to pick. He never offered his grandchildren bitter turnips, sour grapefruit, burnt toast or scotch on the rocks. He offered them the best he had of the sweet, the savory, the foods that children like, the foods that nourish and bring joy.”
So I told my friend, “Pops reminds me of why I want you to know Jesus. You know me—I’ve eaten my share of junk food. I can tell you from experience that Jesus feeds us the best of the best—He meets our spiritual needs with savory meat, perfect fruit and veggies and mouthwatering baked goods. His food, His Word, His presence, brings health and joy. If we eat something bad and get poisoned, He offers the antidote. I want everyone I love to know and love Jesus, to eat at His life-giving table and to follow in His kind and generous ways.”
Personal testimony is hard to argue with— especially between trusted friends. My friend weakly trailed off with something about “Well, I’m glad for you—” I hugged her and said, “I want the best for you. I care.” She said, “Thanks. I know. “ Then she closed the conversation— “But I’ve got to run now.” How I wished she’d paused and there’d been time to encourage her to pray, “If You are real Jesus, please show me. Let me know.”
May the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the glorious Father, give you the Spirit of wisdom and revelation, so that you may know him better. May the eyes of your heart may be enlightened to know the hope to which he has called you, the riches of his glorious inheritance in his holy people, and his incomparably great power those who believe. Ephesians 1: 17-19
