“Look beneath the surface so you can judge correctly.”~ John 7:24
Mark arrived early, steam rising from his coffee, whispering
a prayer, offering the day, the sweat, and his own his own clumsy
heart to God. “Lord, let this
service be more than manual labor, let it be a reflection of Your love.”
But the moment he
stepped inside, his devotion seemed to vanish. A teenager slouched near the drop cloths, his
oversized hoodie pulled low, earbuds sealing him into his own world. Hands buried deep in his
pockets, he didn’t even glance up.
Great, Mark thought, cynicism
flaring hot. Another kid who’ll
disappear the moment heavy lifting begins. “Morning,” Mark offered, weaker
than intended. The kid gave a silent nod.
Mark instantly formed
an entire opinion from a single snapshot: lazy, unmotivated, entitled. “Was
this court-ordered community service?” he grumbled silently, aggressively
rolling a stipe of color onto the drywall?
Sometime later,
Fran burst through the door, radiating her usual sunshine. “Wonderful, you’ve
already met Jacob!” she beamed. “He sneaked in at dawn to prep the entire room
before we arrived. He even brought his own supplies from home,” she added.
Jacob slipped out one earbud, offering a
tentative smile. “The sanding’s done; all the border taping
too,” he muttered. “I
didn’t want to interrupt while you were painting.”
A flush crept up Mark’s neck—the stinging heat of shame and revelation.
His rigid assumptions crumbled like dry plaster. All he’d seen was a slouch and
a hoodie, mistaking shyness for arrogance. He had overlooked the hands that
rose early, the unseen hustle, and the devotion poured into God’s house of
worship.
Mark parked his roller, his tone quieter now. “Jacob…
I completely misread you. I’m so sorry
They painted in tandem, their brushes striking a steady
rhythm of grace. With every sweep of new color, Mark felt the Holy Spirit’s gentle
pressure on his heart. He recalled a familiar verse: “Man looks at the
outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.”
How often had he
failed to see others through Christ’s eyes?
Sunlight flooded the sanctuary, warming the freshly painted
walls. Mark knew he’d received something more precious than a lesson in
painting. The Holy Spirit had stopped him in his tracks, forcing him to look
closer, and to see through the lens of Grace. Bowing his head, he breathed a
prayer that wasn’t flashy or polished… just deeply honest. (below).
When he opened his eyes, the room seemed much brighter. As
if God’s invisible Hand had brushed a coat of mercy across the walls, leaving a vibrant,
lingering warmth echoing in his chest.
