Clay in the Hands

We buried Ruben yesterday.  He was 51 but looked much older.  I have known Ruben for most of the time I have lived in this town.  He always had a very long and scraggly beard.  He couldn’t work anymore due to disability, but he worked before his accident.  He liked to grow things and he liked people.  He loved to walk around town and visit with people.  He rarely turned down food and on occasion would ask for money.  But when he would ask, he would always commit to pay it back – and he often did.

In the church business, Ruben was considered a “benevolence case.”  We helped him from time to time.  The world might call him one of the “forgotten.”  But standing at that graveside yesterday, I was reminded that Ruben was so much more.  Jesus died for him, just like he died for me – and that fact puts us all on the same playing field.  I was reminded that Ruben was loved absolutely by God.

My mind then began to remember times that Ruben and I talked (looking back, it was not nearly frequent enough).  I also remembered a time or two that I helped Ruben with a little money – again, not often enough.  But in each of those times of interacting with Ruben, I don’t remember thinking, “This is a child of God.”  And for that, I am regretful.

Ruben has taught me that every single person in this world, regardless of status, capacity or any other measure we can apply, is loved by God.  As such, we are called to love them as well.  I don’t have all the answers as to how to go about it, but I believe it starts with caring enough to know their stories.  From there, I believe God will lead.