How He Sees

I hung out with a new family last week. One of the daughters was a friend of a friend, and she invited me home to meet her family. It was a Big Event, she told me. I was the first westerner they'd ever had in their home. I was a bit of a display. Of course they asked about my faith early on, and I explained briefly what mine is.

Her mother and sisters were very kind. They admired the way I wore the local outer dress and house dress. They liked my henna. But then the question came that got me:

"You dress like us, you wear henna like us. Why don't you adopt our faith?"

As if to say, "You look so much like one of us. Why don't you just be one of us?!"

I reacted inwardly. Is it all about appearances? What about my heart? What about what I really believe, what I want to follow, Who I want to follow?

But I flipped the scenario around and thought of all the times I've met a nice person and thought, "He's so much like a believer. He's kind, he's honest, he's clean cut. Why doesn't he just be a believer?"

I lay my hand on my mouth. Because it's not about appearances, even though that's where man naturally looks. It's about the heart. It's not about that guy or gal who would make the perfect poster child for my faith. It's about Jesus catching hold of someone's heart and hand and saying, "Come with me." And maybe he'll do that for some clean-cut people. And maybe he'll do that for some bums. Maybe more bums than clean-cut people. Probably, actually.

I need to quit equating appearance with faith and ask to see how he sees. Because I realize how it feels when people do it with me.