From Charlie Gray

My first job out of college was with Wachovia Bank in Morehead City. A coworker and I shared an oceanfront condo in Atlantic Beach. Two twenty something bank executives ( yeah right ) living on the ocean. Kinda hard to mess that up but we sometimes tried. My climb up the corporate ladder landed me in Raleigh but I’ve always hoped to return to the beach someday.

Well I have negotiated my way back to that place. Yeah, my five miles runs are now two mile walks. Life is a little slower and far less stressed. Daily walks with Donna and our dogs are highly anticipated. Rarely do we navigate the beach without being joined by families, plastic buckets in hand, searching for that perfect seashell as a souvenir of their beach vacation. The strand is littered with all kinds of stuff washed up by the rising tides.

Fact is, most of the shells are broken and merely pieces and fragments of what once was a beautiful shell. These broken shells are destined to remain while the beautiful and completely formed shells will be displayed on the mantle or bedroom dresser back home. A cherished reminder of a great time and place.

Last week as I walked the strand, hostage to a thoughtless bog, I was reminded how we pass over and exclude the broken people in our midst. Seduced by perfection and beauty, there is no celebrity in taking time for the less fortunate. The ones left washed up by the tides of misfortune seem to be just out of our reach. There is no room for their display in our trophy case of privilege and success.

As followers of Jesus, we know of His special concern for the needy and marginalized. Proverbs 14:31 warns that those who disregard the undesirables are an insult to God while Matthew 25:31 assures when we serve those in need, we are in service to Him. I now have a broken shell on my dresser as a stark reminder.