Max

I met yesterday with the finest man. He is a pastor in my town. He is talkative. As a matter of fact, within the first five minutes of knowing him I learned that his children were adopted because he has a low sperm count.

He is French, but never visited Paris. He is overworked and was wearing a suit with the tie up tight. There was caution tape on the railing outside his office door because of repairs being done to the church building.

The other really obvious thing about Max is that he is content. Max has been through a lot physically and emotionally, and he has seen God reveal Himself a time or two (or three or four…), so Max has learned to count on Him. He was raised Catholic, attended a Pentecostal school, went to a Baptist seminary and serves in a Methodist church. Max’s perspective is wide and inclusive, and I loved it. He has a graciousness about him that I was in sore need of, and as I listened to him talk, I just knew that every person that has ever met Max has felt loved. Genuinely loved.

Max is the real deal.

I drove home, with my classical music blaring (I’m such a rebel), and I looked at every person in every car and on every corner for the few miles it took to get home. I wondered what the world would look like if everyone knew Max. What if everyone felt genuinely loved? What if everyone had tangible proof that contentment is possible? What if everyone was included?

Remember when Michael Jordan played basketball and everyone said, “I wanna be like Mike?”

Not me. I wanna be like Max. Minus the sperm.