What Lies Beneath the Surface Can Be Surprising

During my 19 years as Executive Vice President at Georgia Hospital Association, I often met with senior leaders of other state hospital associations. One such trip took me to Austin, home of the University of Texas. My book That’s a Great Question:  What to Say When your Faith Is Challenged had recently come out, and because I knew I was going to be in Austin, I contacted one of the UT campus ministries about possibly introducing the concepts in my book to their students. I was pleased that they invited me to speak at their graduate student monthly meeting.

During the meal that preceded my presentation, I met several students and was highly impressed by their highly specialized academic disciplines:  molecular biology, forensic science, quantum physics, and some I had never heard of. I chatted at length over dinner with one young man who detailed the rigorous research requirements for his Ph.D. in genetics. I felt somewhat intimidated at the thought of addressing such a highly educated group and felt relief when my talk was well-received.

As I was packing up, the ministry leader commented that he noticed my dinner conversation with the genetics student. “I was amazed at his intellect and determination,” I commented. “Well, there’s something about him you don’t know,” he said. “About two months ago, even though he is Christian, he attempted suicide after a difficult romantic break-up. He spent several days in an inpatient facility, and although he’s doing better now, he’s still pretty fragile.”

This was one of those moments when the world seemed to shift on its axis. His unseen struggle was worlds away from my somewhat self-centered fear that I might not come across as a qualified speaker. I realized that despite his impressive accomplishments and the shiny façade of academic excellence, he – just like all the other scholars – has the same emotional and spiritual needs that everyone else has.

I’ve had thousands of spiritual conversations over my decades as a Christian, and I can confidently say that I have never met a single person – even the most seemingly “together” people – who doesn’t have some kind of deep personal, medical, vocational, financial, emotional, inter-personal, or some other kind of need. This realization has two implications:

·       Although I should certainly act respectfully and if appropriate express great admiration for even the most impressive people – and everyone else for that matter – there is no reason to grovel. Recognizing that the other person undoubtedly has some kind of deep need, even if it is not obvious, puts me on equal footing with them as a fellow human.

·       The awareness that the other person has needs means that I could potentially have a ministry to them. Jesus has changed my life, and he can do the same for them. But I must approach the opportunity humbly, recognizing my own feet of clay. This allows me to empathize with their circumstances and weaknesses. Of course, I must respect their privacy and should only attempt this type of relationship if I am invited to do so. And I certainly will not have an opportunity to get personal with everyone I meet. Nor should I try to.

Try to keep these thoughts in mind as you interact with others on a daily basis. Not every encounter will lead to a ministry opportunity, but you may be surprised at the impact you can have on others if you stay alert for openings.