“These kids are not going to remember us. So just do your job, go home, and forget about what goes on here. Because when they leave, they will forget about you.”
A conversation. Said after a hopeless week. After taking home way too much junk from kids who aren’t “mine,” but some days certainly feel like it.
But…is it really me I need them to remember? Or is it Him?
If it is me, then I am not showing love, I am merely manipulating people. Acting in selfish ways to get some type of reward or applause. From people. I want people to appreciate me.
And I thought about this as I walked into a gymnasium full of people. Feeling super uncomfortable. See, I may be a preacher, and stand in front of people and speak, but the social scene is not my area of comfort. I am either too loud, or look for the emptiest corner, closet to the nearest exit.
I sat there, on the emptiest set of bleachers I could find, by the back exit, saying to myself, “No one will know I am here, and so no one will know if I leave.”
But God cared.
Let me explain. Because being there wasn’t about me. In that empty corner. On that empty stretch of bleachers sat a light. A light some don’t always see. In the gym, or outside of it.
I wasn’t here for them to see me. I was here for them to see light.
I am not getting up and doing what I do each day for me, I am doing it so others see light.
I don’t need them to remember me. To remember my name or anything I have done. I want them to see one light. Hear one voice. Know one presence when in my space.
I want them to remember one name: Jesus.