Glory, Immortality, and a Cell Phone Salesman

It is no secret that I am a sucker for cute animals. Every time I see something cute, I lose my ability to process rational thought. The cute little eyes, and the little squeaks, and just the littleness in general of animals seems to have it’s own special place of “awww” in my heart.
A few weeks ago, I was driving to work and I stopped at a red light. There was this little baby bird on the side of the road, just happy and chirping along, being super cute. My instant reaction was to gush over how cute this bird was, even telling it how much I loved it from inside my car. As I fawned over this little bird, by eyes were drawn to this man on the side of the road advertising for a store nearby. He was an older man, who had two poster boards attached to his torso with pictures of cell phones plastered all over.
In this moment, I felt God move in my heart. I was so taken by this little bird, even telling it that I loved it, and all the while there was a human being standing right there. This human being is made in the image and likeness of God, with the capacity to choose love. He was made with a specific plan in mind, and he is infinitely loved by Love Himself. He has hopes, dreams, and desires. There are things in his life that he has not yet surrendered to God. He has experienced pain and brokenness. This person advertising for a cell phone store was created to love, honor, and worship God. He has an immortal soul.
Why is it that we miss this? Sometimes the temptation, especially in ministry, is to categorize humanity in general. If we’re in youth ministry, our job is to see the immortal soul in teenagers, but maybe not in the person in front of us in the grocery store line. If our job is young adult ministry, we train ourselves to see the potential in youth adults, but not necessarily our meddlesome elderly neighbor. If our job is ministry in the Church, there is a temptation to see our ministry as belonging in the church building, but not to the cell phone salesman on the side of the road. I think we miss this because of our preoccupations with our own lives. Our spiritual blindness shields us from seeing the magnificence before us, and we are the ones who choose to be blind.
Author C.S. Lewis saw his fellow man as he truly is. This is what he has to say:
It is a serious thing to live in a society of possible gods and goddesses, to remember that the dullest, most uninteresting person you can 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 the 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 of 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, civilizations - 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 splendors.
I want to challenge you this Lent to choose to see man as he really is. Know that each person you interact with, every person in every car on the freeway, is an immortal soul with an everlasting destiny.