Every human being who is now, will be or ever has been is a miracle. The co-workers, family members and friends with whom you trafficked today are, every one of them, wonders beyond belief. We are all—regardless of color, creed or cult—made in the image of God. There is no such thing as an ordinary person.
C.S. Lewis, writing in his essay “The Weight of Glory” says this, “It is a serious thing to live in a society of possible gods and goddesses, to remember that the dullest and most uninteresting person you talk to may one day be a creature which, if you saw it now, you would be strongly tempted to worship, or else a horror and a corruption such as you now meet, if at all, only in a nightmare. All day long we are, in some degree, helping each other to one or other of these destinations. It is in the light of these overwhelming possibilities, it is with the awe and the circumspection proper to them, that we should conduct all our dealings with one another, all friendships, all loves, all play, all politics. There are no ‘ordinary’ people. You have never talked to a mere mortal. Nations, cultures, arts, civilisations — these are mortal, and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat. But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub and exploit — immortal horrors or everlasting splendours.”
Our society, especially here in the West, is enamored of celebrity. I don’t quite know how to account for it. Perhaps it is, in some weird way, a seeking after God, power embodied in fame. The Kardashian sisters are lovely women but they are no more a miracle than your boss, the clerk at the store down the street or your friendly neighborhood Wal-Mart greeter.
Ask yourself this one question: “How do I treat those who have absolutely nothing by which I can, knowingly, be benefited?”
Tomorrow, when you stop by the gas station on the way to work, remember you are looking into the eyes of creatures made a little lower than the angels, indeed a little lower than God (Psalm 8:5; Hebrews 2:7).