“Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven.” Matthew 5:16
My husband and I really took an extended trip to Italy to celebrate our retirement. 4 cities, 17 days, a couple of long flights, and the experience of a lifetime. We usually plan our own travel, but this trip was a little (or a lot) daunting, so we used a travel agent who’s also a dear friend. Our trip was amazing and most, if not all, of that is due to her diligence and planning. She’s been there, done that, so she was able to discern the “must see” excursions from the overhyped, social media driven tourist traps.
One of the best aspects of this trip, aside from not having to plan the minute details, was the private transfers to and from airports/train stations to hotels, partly because we didn’t have to hail a cab or catch a bus, but mostly because we were met by some of the nicest Italians. Now I know what you’re thinking: Jana, they’re in the tourism business, they’re SUPPOSED to be nice to you. And you would be correct, but this goes further than that. The absolute pride they feel to be Italian and to welcome you to their Italy is palpable. It was incredibly cool to experience.
I mentioned we visited 4 major cities plus surrounding regions. Everywhere we went was stunningly beautiful and the locals we interacted with were no different. Italians as a rule have a style about them, for real. Polished, put together, proud. That style carries into their daily lives as well. Without fail, the Italians we met were gracious and kind. They were sweet, helpful, and mildly amused by these crazy Texans asking them questions.
But what struck me the most was their pride for their family, their city, and their country. I bet we heard “Let me tell you about MY Italy” at least 40 times during those 17 days. That comment was usually followed by at least 10 minutes, usually longer, of them describing the town or region they’re from and why we need to come back and spend a month there. From the shopkeeper in Venice who pressed upon us to not miss San Gimignano, the 30 minute conversation with the pharmacist telling us all about Sicily and what we had to do there when we come back, to the family-owned ceramic shop mom in Sorrento who not only introduced us to her daughters, but told us all about her kiddos at home and how grandkids are the greatest gift from God. Italy, when you’re here, you’re family.
All of this got me thinking about what we project to both strangers and those we know. I feel like, for myself, you don’t have to know me long to know how much I value my family and how absolutely beyond proud of them I am. But what other messages am I sending, out loud or otherwise? Do you know that I was raised in the church my entire life but that I really only recently rekindled a close relationship with Jesus? Do you know that I don’t quote the Bible often because I feel like I don’t know it well enough, even though searching God’s word provides me with comfort and solace EVERY SINGLE TIME? Do my words and my actions show that I’m not just a good human but also a good Christian? Do those words and actions say “Let me tell you about MY Jesus?”
1 Peter 3:15 says ““But sanctify the Lord God in your hearts: and be ready always to give an answer to every man that asketh you a reason of the hope that is in you with meekness and fear.”
I think that as a society we are sometimes overly concerned with two things: privacy and portrayal. We want to keep some things private but then we also want to make sure we are portraying the message of our perfect life to the public. Because of that I think the most important, vital things get lost in the shuffle or hidden from public view.
I consider myself an open book to my friends through the good, the bad, and the ugly. I can roast my family, and myself, with the best of them. But I came home from this trip with a different perspective. I’m going to try to be intentional with letting people know, even total strangers, about the comfort and peace Jesus brings to me. Not just by my actions, but also verbally, out loud. Am I going to be good at it? Probably not at first, because that is totally out of my comfort zone. I’ll get better with practice. Practice makes perfect, and practice starts now.
