Merely Human?

I am a "people" person.
I love to talk to people.
OK, apparently I love to talk... period... but especially to people.
My dream job would be to have opportunity to sit and talk to people... and listen to their stories.
(I know... hence the word "dream")

Over the years I have talked to a lot of people.
My family will agree with the notion that I know no strangers.
Along the way I have discovered that everyone has a story.

No, really. Everyone.

Some are fascinating, some are horrific and some are kinda "normal". 

But we all have one and it is uniquely ours.

I came across this C.S. Lewis quote in a book I was reading:
"There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal."
I agree.
But I've been thinking...

Sure I am friendly and talkative, most of the time.
But what is my motivation?
Why am I talking to some and not others?
Do I make a beeline to the obviously-interesting-good looking-I'll bet they will like me- people?
Or maybe the -I think they can do something for me-people?
Or the -I already know them-this will be comfortable-people?
How many people, and their stories, have I passed on my way to "better", more enjoyable prospects?
Frankly I am not sure I like where this is going.

"For You formed my inward parts; You knitted me together in my mother's womb.
I praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made." Psalm 139:13-14a


Yes, I believe that God has created every person, knowing them before they were even born; actively putting them together... just they way He desired. Making each person special and unique.
Not ordinary.
But am I living like I believe that?
Or do I, in fact, view some as "merely" (nothing more or no better than) human?
I am convicted by this. 
Faces of people who I could have, should have spoken to, smiled at, cared about are kinda running through my head.
Often I have selfishly, even deliberately, ignored an opportunity to extend myself, to affect someone else in a positive, loving way. Hurrying by, averting my glance... too busy (or important). Really.
This most surely is not "What would Jesus do?" material.


Years ago I was standing in line at a local restaurant with my small children.  An older, disheveled, smelly man entered our line. Almost immediately, I drew my children closer to me, slightly turning away from him. And just as I did, God's Spirit spoke to my heart..."I died for people like him." 
Yeah. 
Those words echoed in the emptiness of my prideful heart.


I'll bet that man had a story. 
I have no idea what it is.
I didn't care enough about him to even make eye contact.