We arrived in Mississippi the same week 97 tornados blasted through. If I hadn’t known why the Lord brought us here, I did then—to practically show to folks His love in 3-D.
On a visit to Lowes, I noticed a note that an employee named Nancy had lost almost everything in the storm. Funds were being collected to help.
Donating funds is often a good thing, but I prefer the personal touch. The manager kindly gave me her address.
Getting out of my truck at the site, I saw only devastation. How had anyone survived? Then a woman approached from a garage. Nancy and her husband were living there.
She said she was standing by the front door when the storm arrived. It tore off the door and sucked her onto the grass. Then she watched as the whole house was lifted over her head and smashed against a row of old oaks. She said, “I know God saved me.” It was the only way she could have survived.
We walked the property together. “There’s my kitchen set,” she said, pointing to a pile of kindling. Towels, dishes, clothes, documents—all in a sodden mess.
I returned to town sobered by my experience. A tornado shows you in a hurry what is, and isn’t, important. I was reminded of the Lord’s words, “One’s life does not consist in the abundance of the things he possesses.” (Lk 12:15) That’s for sure.
I recall hearing a story about Sophia Loren and her husband, producer Carlo Ponti. While on set, someone broke into their hotel room and stole some expensive jewelry. Loren burst into tears at the news. But her husband responded, “Honey, don’t cry over anything that can’t cry over you.”
This world is one gigantic yard sale. In the final analysis, nobody gets to keep anything. The only lasting value in things, besides their utility, is the love they convey to others. The crudely wonderful “I luv you” art on the fridge. The old chair that reminds you of the nights you rocked the children back to sleep. Grandma’s dishes recollecting untold happy gatherings. Even worn-out tools with which a previous generation eked out a living for us. In the right light, they’re all 3-D love.
When I returned with a truckload of supplies—a convection oven, a lovely North Carolina hickory kitchen set, dishes, bedding, groceries, and the like—Nancy wept. Through her tears, she asked, “Why didn’t you shop for me at Salvation Army?”
I like Salvation Army bargains, but I explained that I wasn’t shopping for me. “This is all from Jesus,” I said. “He asked if I’d use my truck, but I’m just the delivery boy. He doesn’t deal in leftovers; He deals in love.”
Stuff, even the best of it, falls apart eventually, but love lasts forever. So if life doesn’t consist of having the latest Pucci and Gucci, what is it made of?
One sentence shows the only options: “He who believes in the Son has everlasting life; and he who does not believe the Son shall not see life, but the wrath of God abides on him.” (Jn 3:36)
Believing in the Son means entrusting your soul’s case entirely to Him. Then everything you do and have can be turned into 3-D love in His cause.
Article by Jabe Nicholson first published in the Commercial Dispatch, Sunday, November 6, 2022