Unexpected Lessons

If our eyes, ears, and hearts are open, God can teach us powerful lessons in such unexpected ways. I have a feeling that in my busyness, I miss many teachable moments completely, but I am amazed at His way of speaking to us, personally and so uniquely, through things that are special to us. To me, when I am listening, He speaks through His Word, nature, music, good books, and children. This past week He used the innocence and transparency of a little boy. It's true: "A little child shall lead them..."

While shopping recently in one of the strip malls in a nearby town, I found something I really liked at one of my favorite home decorating stores. Just as I do many times, I decided to think about it before making the purchase. After browsing in another store—and finding some wonderful deals—I was ready to head home. But I couldn't resist and decided to go back and buy the item that caught my eye in the previous store. Quickly returning to the store, I picked up the picture that I just had to have and started for the checkout counter. To get there, I had to go back across the front of the store.

It was a little before 5:00 P.M., so the sun was beginning to sink in the west. Glass covered the entire entrance to the store, and the rays of sun, shining so brilliantly from the bluest of skies, filled my view from inside the shop. Nothing obstructed one's view of the beauty of that late, briskly cold afternoon. As I approached the front, I heard a little boy's voice, and he soon came into my view. I wish I could adequately describe what I saw. A precious little boy, maybe four years old, stood there with his arms stretched outward and upward, staring into the sun saying: "Jesus! Jesus! I'm here for you, Jesus!"

It was as if he stood in the spotlight...just him and Jesus!

His mother walked to him, quietly called his name, and said, "That's the sun!" He seemed so intent on unashamedly talking to Jesus that he continued to stand there, staring into the bright rays of the sinking sun. Approaching his mother, who seemed a little embarrassed, I asked, "He thinks it's Jesus?" She nodded and quietly answered, "Yes!"

In those brief moments I was so touched, as I am now as I write this. Maybe the little boy had heard someone referring to Jesus as the Son—I don't know. But I do know that in many respects, he had it right. Jesus, the Son, is our Light—the Light of the World.

I can only truly worship Him when I stand before Him, with my arms outstretched toward Him, and say, "Jesus, I'm here for you. Shine your light into my life and into the secret places of my heart. Let your healing rays touch the hurting areas, the un-Christlike places, and the needy places that only Your Light can reveal."

Reuben Welch, one of my favorite authors, says that it's only when we take the top off our lives, so to speak, and let the Son shine in that we can be truly healed and changed. This unexpected lesson also reminded me that I don't need to let others distract my worship of Him. Neither should I be worried about what other people might think of my transparency before God and the resulting changes in my life. The little boy didn't seem to be aware that other people, like myself, were watching. He wasn't embarrassed, and he wasn't in any hurry to end his conversation with Jesus just because others were shopping in the store.

As a child of God, I know that at times I sit in His classroom, understand His lessons, and then as time passes fail to consistently put into practice what I've learned. I don't think I will ever forget this little boy, however, and his words to Jesus in that almost-surreal setting. I pray that God will help me each day to have his attitude: "Jesus, I'm here for you." How sad when I forget. Jesus doesn't. He is always here for me!

Glenda Thaxton lives in Robeline, Louisiana, where she is a wife, mother, grandmother of four, a retired educator, a life-long Nazarene, and a junior high Sunday School teacher at Friendship Church of the Nazarene.

Please note: All facts, figures, and titles were accurate to the best of our knowledge at the time of original publication but may have since changed.