Last month, Christofolx—our young adult ministry—came to my home on a Sunday afternoon for an Episcopalian summer party. We grilled, swam in the pool, and at 5 p.m., we gathered in my living room for a worship service.

Gabby, who is 5, wanted to watch a video rather than join the worship service. The closest room to the living room is my bedroom. She and Dursey (my dog) hung out together in that room. 

After the service, Gabby asked if she could go explore. Off she went, looking in the bathroom and then my closet. When she came back, she made a serious pronouncement: that closet is very organized.

In today’s reading from Romans, Paul lays out a path for following Jesus. The way we live and move and have our being should be different than the rest of the world.

“Let us live honorably”, he says.  In case we don’t know what honorable living looks like, Paul gives examples of the things we should avoid. Every item on his list is something that yields a temporary feel-good. They are behaviors that numb us to the pain and suffering of those around us. 

Drunkenness, quarreling, jealousy, and all the others get in the way of being able to love God and our neighbor.

I was dazzled by Gabby’s observation.

When I moved into the house a couple of years ago, a lot of friends came by to see what the house was like. Many of my friends noticed that the closet was unusually large. It is the only room in the house without any windows. The builder made the room large for a family to be together when tornado sirens are blaring. Some friends commented on the unusual number of black shirts. Some people talked about shoes or the backpacks and hiking gear.

Gabby didn’t mention even one thing about the stuff she saw. She looked beyond all those cosmetic, material things and saw something about who I am. 

Paul is inviting us to be more like Gabby. At five years old, her lens isn’t tarnished by the material values of the world. 

To love our neighbors, we have to “see” them:

         --as people created by God,

         --as people who have holy gifts planted within them,

         --as people who are loved by God.

Last Sunday, a young man named Aman was outside the church asking for our help. He was dehydrated. As I talked with him, I noticed that Aman is articulate and respectful. He didn’t want to “make a scene” at the church. I asked him how long he’d been living on the streets. 2-1/2 years.  He may be in his early 20s or so and he has spent 10 percent of his life living on the streets of Fort Worth. 

All around us, there are people who are alone and suffering in broad daylight. Most days, we walk past them without pausing to wonder if God has made our paths cross so that we could do more than just walk on by.

Paul invites us to put on the armor of light. This is not like Harry Potter’s cloak of invisibility. It is a cloak of visibility. We are not hidden from the world—but rather living lights that point toward Hope and Love. The cloak of visibility gives us eyes like Gabby’s -- eyes that see beyond the stuff of this world into the soul of God’s people.

May we be intentional about putting on an armor of light and bearing witness to God’s love in this world.