Today's blog is difficult. I suppose it is a confession, of sorts. I will ask pardon in advance from anyone I may offend--no offense is intended. Please grant me grace . . .

One evening last year, I believe Christmas was approaching, I was racing into Walmart to get a few necessities. As I neared the door, I noticed a man in a wheelchair almost blocking the entry doors. He had only one leg and part of one of his hands was missing. He was incredibly ragged and when I got close I could smell him. He was begging for change. My reaction--great discomfort, embarrassment and repulsion. I want to put that word in a smaller font. Even if he had been clean and in the church foyer, I think I would have still wanted to avoid him, because amputees had just always been a bit creepy to me. So I smiled and nodded "hello," did not make eye contact, and walked around as though I did not hear his request. "Maybe he'll be gone by the time I come out."  But in the middle of the frozen food section, I was hit by such conviction and shame I nearly cried. I didn't have much money with me, but I decided to buy a couple less items and to give him the change. After all, I am so blessed. I have a wonderful, healthy family, good personal health, all of my needs met and so many of my wants, a wonderful church and good friends--the things he obviously didn't have. "Lord, let him still be there when I come out." I paid for my items, got my change, and he was still there. I walked over to him and handed him the money, and then Jesus took over. "Do you know the Lord, Sir?" "Yes Ma'am." "Do you know how much Jesus loves you?" No answer, just tears. "May I pray with you?" "Yes." And I knelt by this man and took hold of his mutilated hands, and prayed for him, and then I hugged him.  The funny thing is, I don't think I prayed for him so much because he needed it, although we can all use prayer--I think I prayed for him because I needed it--I needed to learn to love more like Jesus and to see the hurt of others through His eyes. The thing that convicted me when I was in the frozen food section was that God gave me just a glimpse of the way I looked to Him before I asked Jesus into my heart. I was ragged and filthy, stinking to high heaven, and so incomplete--much worse than the man at the door. How could I not reach out to a fellow human soul after what Jesus did for me?

There was a time when Jesus was unattractive--as He stumbled to Calvary bloody, sweaty, feverish, swollen, dirty, portions of His beard torn out and spittle from His enemies on His skin and clothing. Would I have loved that Jesus, if I had seen Him like that for the first time? Would I have loved the God who was crushed so that I could have heaven? "He had no beauty or majesty to attract us to Him, nothing in His appearance that we should desire Him. He was despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows, and familiar with suffering. Like one from whom men hide their faces He was despised, and we esteemed Him not" (Isaiah 53:2b-3). I'm afraid of my answer.

Lord, I am so humbly grateful for the lessons that You are still teaching. Thank You for becoming unattractive and despised. Help me to receive all who come to me in that condition, not just because that's the condition I was in when You received me, but because You have said that "whatsoever You do to the least of these, You do it for Me." Help me to love You through those You send my way. Amen