How Will They Know?

I was in an international airport recently.  It was interesting observing the different people—like I’m not different in my own ways—but you see quite a big mix of people in an airport, especially an international one.  What really started me on this was seeing a father who appeared to be Arabic washing his young sons’ hands.  I was impressed that he was probably of the Muslim faith since he was so intense about not touching anything after their hands were clean.  My mother was very big on cleanliness and not touching things which I had no idea of where they had been, but the intensity of this father went well beyond that of even my mother as he barked his instructions to his young sons.  It definitely implied a concern well beyond one about germs, hinting at the religious.

After that I noticed other people whose dress, demeanor, or practices seemed to give me insight into who they were or how they wanted to be perceived.  I saw many people wearing articles—hats, shirts, jackets—which proclaimed their allegiance to one sports team or another.  There were people in international dress which I could not identify, but which identified their place of origin.  A student of this could probably not only discern what country they were from, but what province or region.  I could not.  I just knew they weren’t from around here. 

Then there are accents and linguistic colloquialisms which also help identify a person.  I should know about this.  Having been born in Oklahoma, but having lived in many parts of the United States and ending up in Minnesota.  I have actually had Minnesota people tell me they don’t talk with an accent, to which I simply reply, “Oh, yah, sure, you betcha.”  Being quite a few years and miles removed from my roots, I don’t realize that my speech still belies my place of origin, but more often than I want to admit, people in my current place of residence ask me where I’m from.  In fact, where I’m from and most Southern states have a common phase that expresses it best, “you ain’t from around here, are you.?”

One last input on this note is that while in that airport, I was ultimately going to end up visiting a friend in Texas.  I’ve lived in Texas twice and to be honest, the dress and accents between natural born Oklahomans and Texans give a clue to their geographical proximity, though I would be strung up by representatives from either side of the Red River for saying it out loud.  But as I said, I was born in Oklahoma and have lived in Texas twice, so I like cowboy boots and know how to wear them.  I have a nice pair of Tony Lama cowboy boots which I cherish more than a man should, but I brought them with me, along with a pair of Lee boot cut jeans on this trip so I can wear them in Texas and look the part.

So, hopefully, without stepping over the political correctness line, my point is, it’s not hard to look at a person or listen to a person and get a hint of who they are and where they are from. 

This brings me to a question that came to mind as I observed all the different people in this airport.  How do they know we are followers of Christ?  I had also seen in this airport a young woman wearing a T-shirt with a Christian message on it.  I’ve seen many cars drive by me with fish symbols, or bumper stickers with Christian messages on them.  As a young Christian, I wore a shirt with a big Cross stitched on the back in an attempt to identify me with my faith and my Lord.   What’s disappointing about all of this is seeing someone sporting such identification, and then seeing them acting in an un-Christian way.

I have been a “Christian” for many years.  I accepted Jesus as my savior at a young age in a church group that was very big on outward show.  A Christian went to church regularly—meaning every time the doors were open.  A Christian didn’t drink, didn’t smoke, didn’t go to dances and was only allowed to go to movies that were deemed acceptable.  A Christian dressed and made their self up very conservative—my penchant toward long hair was always an issue here.  Christians had their own language which included a lot of “Holy” phrases which helped identify who they were.  And when someone was “saved” they had to take on this mantel and walk, talk, and dress the same way.  That way people would know who and what they were.  Groups of faith have historically pushed an outward show of their beliefs through faith in an attempt to identify them with their beliefs and set them apart from the rest of the world.  Some of the most radical that come to mind are the Amish, here in America, which have eschewed as much as possible any connection with the “sinful” world—very plain dress, plain colors, no buttons, head coverings, beards but no mustaches, etc.

Whether a nationality, a sports fan, a regional resident of the United States, or a religious group, we seem to have a need to visually state to the world who we are.  But the question comes once again, how will the world know that we are followers of Christ?  Should we get “God Team” merchandise to wear?  It seems many people do that, but does that really tell the world who we are?  You can put a pair of cowboy boots on a city boy from the East, but that doesn’t really mean he’s a Texan. 

What about the way we talk?  Christians don’t really have a regional accent, per se.  They do, however, have “Holy Talk”—phrases and words like “Praise the Lord”, “hallelujah”, “I feel so blessed”, etc.  These and any number of utterances like them have been developed and grasped on to, in a seeming attempt to make certain Christians feel holier and to  identify them and their faith.  Does this “Holy Speak” really show the world we are followers of the Risen Lord?  Having lived in Minnesota long enough, I can actually put on a fairly good Minnesota accent that will fool many people, but does that make me a born and bred Minnesotan?  I can put a hood ornament and leather seats on my wife’s car, but that won’t make it a Jaguar or a Mercedes (she can keep wishing, though).  It would just be a Chevy Impala with a fancy hood ornament and leather seats.

There is only one way that our Lord says the world will know we are truly His followers.  That is love.  That should not be surprising.   He stood out in His world because of His love.  He did not preach condemnation.  He did not preach judgment, except on the misguided religious rule of the day (which was full of dress, talk and outward showiness).  Jesus loved.  He loved the down and out.  He loved the disenfranchised.  He loved those who were considered unlovely by the current world and religious view—tax collectors, prostitutes, adulterers, the poor, the lame, people of non or mixed Jewish decent, even Romans.  Jesus loved and taught us that God is love.  He even taught us that any man, even an evil man will love his friends and brothers, but to truly reflect the person of the Father one must love his enemies to the point of honestly praying for them. 

As I said earlier, in a couple of days, I will be visiting a long time friend of mine in Houston.  We have a long history and I can honestly say I love him.  I would do anything within my power for him, but what about the noisy—the term “white trash” comes to mind—bunch of young women who were disturbing me while I tried to write this yesterday?  Though I try not to, I do have some old prejudices from my past that pop up at some interesting times, and my Lord is saying to me, “Yes, even them too.  Yes, they stand right beside you at the foot of my cross.”

I don’t know about you, but I don’t think I can fit that all on a T-shirt, and if I could it wouldn’t mean much, if anything.  At present, I am wearing a T-shirt that identifies me as one who attended a big classic car show.  I have many T-shirts that say a lot about me.  I have Harley T-shirts.  I have a Harley.  I have tourist type T-shirts that say I have been to many places, including Marguritaville in Key West.  I have a T-shirt from the 2012 Sturgis Bike Week Rally, though I wasn’t even there, but I wear it like I was.  I even have a T-shirt that I received from my daughter and son-in-law that says, “These are my church clothes.”  Love is not a garment I can put on, however.  Love is not a cross we stitch to the back of a shirt.  Love is a cross that we willingly allow ourselves to be nailed to in the name of our Lord.  And as Jesus gave up his last breath in loving sacrifice, the guard at the foot of the cross was heard to say, “this truly was the son of God.”  Love, even to the cross identified Jesus for who He truly was.  That same love is the only thing that will truly identify followers of Him for who we truly are.

Putting on a T-shirt, hat or jacket is easy.  Slapping a bumper sticker on the back of my car is easy.  Speech is relatively easy to learn.  Taking up a cross of love and allowing ourselves to be nailed to it for any and every person around us is, to use a southern term, “a might bit harder.”  But that, is the only way the world will know we are truly followers of Christ.