I have sought your face with all my heart;be gracious to me according to your promise.
Psalm 119:58
I've lived in Columbia, MO, for the past 39 years. I've worked in the healthcare field and for the University of Missouri, the two top employers in the city, which means I've interacted with a lot of people over the past four decades.
There's a high probability that any time I go to the mall or a store or a restaurant or any other place where people gather in Columbia, I'm going to see someone I know.
As I'm looking around, quite often I'll see faces that are familiar. I don't know their names, and I really don't know them personally, but I know I've seen them around town. It's that sense of "where do I I know them from" that nags at all of us sometimes.
Of course, I'll also see the faces of people I instantly know, but not the type I would just go up to and greet. These are the local celebrities: the TV reporters, the politicians, the movers and shakers. I'm not a part of their world, for the most part, so while their faces catch my eye, not too many of them will notice me.
But then there are the co-workers, friends, and neighbors, who I wave to or say 'hello' to, and they - hopefully - respond in kind.
But, of course, what I'm really looking for is the face of someone who is truly a good friend. Even better,a good friend I haven't seen in a long time.
Every year or two I see Mark Martin's face at Walmart or at a concert or festival downtown. When he sees me, he gets a wry, half grin on his face, his eyes reflecting the shared memory of our rambunctious youth. We talk for a couple of minutes, catching up on the latest major changes in our lives. In the past couple of years we've asked each other about the possibility of retirement. It's a question that will never stop seeming strange when talking to someone who was part of my group of closest friends when we were in our teens.
I used to run into Alex Miller in Walmart about once a year. He had been my oldest brother's best friend back in high school, and then he had been a good friend of mine for a few years when we were both going to church at the Mizzou Christian Campus House. His face would always break into a grin when he would see me, as I'm sure mine did in return. We enjoyed a shared curiosity and idealism about many things during those years before our paths separated.
I also occasionally see the face of people I recognize from a decade and a half of Monday nights in the chapel at the women's prison. When I see these familiar faces, I wait before greeting them, especially if they're with someone else - or, as has happened frequently, if they're working at a fast food place or restaurant where I'm eating. I don't want to embarrass them if their companions or their co-workers aren't aware of their past.
Usually, though, they'll initiate the conversation. Sometimes their face is familiar but I'm not sure where I know them from, so I'll just say, "Vandalia?", which is specific without revealing too much.
The faces of these women are almost always beaming with joy at seeing me again. Sometimes that joy is instantly mixed with a bit of guilty apology. They know they're not living up to everything I taught them and encouraged them to be. But after a few questions and answers, I'm almost always able to offer them a bit of encouragement and perhaps a bit of advice, if they ask.
But generally, what their eyes crave most, is grace. Because that's what they need the most.
All of us, when we seek the face of God, especially if it's been a while since we last looked for Him, desire grace above everything else.
I know, Lord, that I've fallen short. I don't turn to you as often as I should. But what I need is to know that your promise is still good, that grace is still on the table.
Any thing else, any other blessings, would be fantastic. But your grace is enough.
