Radiant

For what we preach is not ourselves, but Jesus Christ as Lord, and ourselves as your servants for Jesus’ sake. For God, who said, “Let light shine out of darkness,” made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of God’s glory displayed in the face of Christ. But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us (2 Corinthians 4:5-7 NIV).

Pastor Al said that our lives are like Skippy jars of God's glory. He usually wore his dark hair combed back, looking to me like someone from the old west. On appropriate occasions, he even dressed in his suit from single action shot gun events. He said he'd been the black sheep of his family as a young man. The honesty of his walk with God earned my trust, and his prayers and sermons welcomed us in as he walked the gravel and asphalt with God. Even though he was the only paid staff member besides our secretary for a congregation of almost 200 people, he gathered the college-aged kids together and spent the Sunday school hour teaching us--helping us grow strong in our faith during a period of life that he believed was critical.

 When he first came from California to candidate at our Illinois country church, Pastor Al's skin looked yellow. Soon after, he was diagnosed with cancer. Our church called him anyway. That cancer didn't kill him, but about a decade later, another kind did. When his hair thinned so much from chemo that he decided to shave it off, almost all the men of the church shaved their heads, too. I remember one of his gestures--a repeated reminder of our security in Christ. Sticking up a thumb, he'd wrap the fingers of his other hand around it, quoting Jesus' words about his followers: " 'I give them eternal life, and they shall never perish; no one will snatch them out of my hand.' " Then, clasping his fingers over the fist he'd made, he would complete the quotation: " 'My Father, who has given them to me, is greater than all; no one can snatch them out of my Father’s hand.' " He'd look out at us, wanting us to understand: "Doubly held." 

A character in one of my favorite books describes a moment when a normally shy girl "lit all her candles." Sometimes, I too, light my candles. Last year during a grocery run, I met one of my elderly former professors from community college. For a long time I'd been wanting to thank him for the way he opened my eyes to the beauty of poetry, and my delight about running into him must have been evident on my face. After chatting for a few moments he said, "this may seem strange, but there's kind of a glow about you."  I smiled. "My name means radiant," I told him. Names are important, and I love that part of mine.

During a visit with friends, two of them mentioned an extra glow in my appearance that day. Moments before entering the house, however, I had prayed as an all too familiar weariness threatened to engulf me. Their compliments gave me hope that perhaps my "shining" was something God put inside of me, regardless of my weakness. I am afraid of way too many things--not the least of which is being worthy of shame. I've grown better of late, but I used to squirm remembering embarrassing moments from many years past. I know any glow I've got is fleeting in nature--a thing that dies the moment it is grasped. But God offers me--offers all of His children--a shining that will not fade. Partly because of my name, I think of Psalm 34:7 as my verse: "Those who look to Him [God] are radiant; their faces are never covered with shame." Looking to Him--that is not such a hard thing. I may be confused, weak, mired down--but I can still look.

Cancer, acne, awkwardness, failures--many things remind us of our physical and moral weakness. And yet, these very things can point us and those observing us toward the real source of radiance. I find it very comforting in the midst of my confusion that everything always comes back to a Person. The truest shining is the light of God's face. And in His love is my hope of living up to my name. Through His shining may cracked bottles and clay pots spill light, may Skippy jars brim with glory.