Thursday, December 18, 2003

And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father's only son, full of grace and truth.
(John 1.14 NRSV)

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Ted Engstrom tells the story of Pat Moore. One day in May, 1979, Moore, who looked like she must be eighty-five years old, opened the door of her New York apartment and stepped nervously into the hall. She put her cane out in front of her and hesitantly felt for the first step on the stairs. Her legs moved gingerly, awkwardly. One step...two...three...all the way to the twelfth step. So far so good. When she arrived at the bottom of the stairs, she saw her landlady who exclaimed, "Oh, I'm sorry, I was expecting somebody else."

"Don't you recognize me?" asked Pat, her voice strained and cracked.

"No, ma'am, I don't," said the landlady, staring at the frail woman.

"I'm Pat Moore," she said laughing. As she saw her landlady's mouth widen in disbelief, Pat knew in that flash of a moment she passed the test.

You see, Pat Moore was not eighty-five years old at all. Not even close. She was an attractive twenty-six-year-old specialist in industrial design, who was concerned about the needs of the aged. At least once each week for the next three years, Pat put on her masquerade of facial latex foam, a heavy fabric that bound her body, and a convincing gray wig. She visited fourteen states as an old woman. She met hundreds of people who never once discovered her true identity. Pat Moore wanted to have a first hand experience of what it was to be elderly in America.

The journey God made that first Christmas from the throne of glory to the stable in Bethlehem was that kind of journey. He emptied himself, he invaded our world so that we could know true love.

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Dear God, continue to invade my life, so that I may know more fully your righteousness. Amen.

Ron Newhouse

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