There is a power in Christian community that we sometimes forget, but when we see it, it is a thing of beauty. Three unrelated experiences brought this power vividly to my attention.
The Indian ambassador to the United States was our guest on the Asbury College campus. He was a significant man, by central Kentucky standards, and I wanted to share him. So we invited various important people in our area to have lunch with him.
One of these luncheon guests was the editor of the most influential daily paper in our area. I did not know him, and I had no reason to believe he had ever been on a Christian college campus before. After a delightful meal and a question-and-answer session with the ambassador, I saw to it that I left the dining hall with the editor.
As we emerged onto the campus, he asked, “When do your classes change? I would like to see your students.” I said it was only a matter of moments. “Let’s wait,” he said. So we did.
As the students began pouring out of the classroom buildings, he took his camera from his shoulder and said, “Wait for me if you can. I want to take some pictures.” He moved around, framing and focusing his shots.
When he returned, he said, “They are different, aren’t they?”
“What do you mean?” I quickly responded.
“They dress differently.”
“Oh?”
“But it’s more than that,” he continued. “They look at you.” Then he paused a moment. “Do you know the one thing I never expect to meet on the university campus? It’s eye contact with anybody. You walk alone down a 50-inch sidewalk and meet another person. At 15 or 20 feet you size each other up, and as you meet you carefully look the other way.”
Never Look A Panhandler In The Eye
As I stood with my guest on that sidewalk, I had a flashback. In memory, I was on Third Avenue in New York City under the elevated in the Bowery. A newly made friend, a state senator’s son from Florida, was with me.
My companion had just found Christ. His new life was different from his old one. Part of his past included years spent operating a gambling den under a house of prostitution in Alaska. Since he had sought Christ in one of my evangelistic meetings, I had him traveling with me, hoping that our fellowship would give me opportunity to help him learn more about the Christian life.
Suddenly my friend stopped and spun toward me. I had been busy watching the panhandlers as we walked. You can imagine my surprise when I heard him say: “Dr. Kinlaw, don’t you know you never give a panhandler your eyes unless you intend to give more? When you give a panhandler your eyes, he already has his hand halfway in your pocket.” Then, out of memories of bitter experience, he concluded, “Don’t ever give anybody your eyes unless you are ready to give more.”
The memory of that closing line came rushing back to me as that editor of a large, secular daily said simply, “They are different. They look at you.”
A Wall Of Saints
Once, while reflecting on that editor’s observation, I remembered another experience.
I was in the administration building at Wheaton College. In front of me was a large wall covered with names—the names of all of that college’s students who had gone overseas to serve Christ. I realized what a production line for Christian workers that institution had been. There were some names I knew: Jim Elliot and Ed McCully and Nate Saint—people who had given all. No doubt others unknown to me had made such sacrifices.
That day, I had no question about the importance of the chapels, the classes, and the missions conferences that those students had experienced. But in my heart I really wondered if part of what made these people what they were wasn’t just the fact that they had experienced the kind of Christian community where one could begin by just giving one’s eyes.
DENNIS F. KINLAW
