One of the grossest moments of daily life is pulling a cup from the cabinet, filling it with a beverage of choice, then realizing the inside of the glass didn’t get clean in the dishwasher. Crusty floaters make their way to the top or chunky wads reflect from the bottom to the surface. The outside looks great, but somehow the inside was overlooked.

            Sadly, we often respond the same way. Kids and teenagers are usually drawn to the better looking, more popular people in their classes. In the workplace, the best-dressed, well-spoken, good-looking people receive much attention. Even in churches, patrons often look to the families who faithfully enter the church building dressed well and think, Wow, what a wonderful, Christian family.

            What is it that draws us to the outside? It seems that when the outside is beautiful or appealing that we assume the inside is just as well-kept. This weekend, I spoke at a women’s conference focused on bees. Jessica Ratliff taught us a fabulous truth utilizing lessons from beekeeping. In one analogy, she shared about her friend’s beautiful bee box compared to her plain, colorless box. Over time, the colorful box, no matter how pretty the outside was, became empty because the bees swarmed. The plain box, though less appealing to the onlooker, remained a thriving hive on the inside, filled to the brim with bees. 

Pharisees

I’m reminded of the pharisees of the New Testament when Jesus referred to them as whitewashed tombs with nothing but dead men’s bones inside. The outside looked fabulous. They preached faithfully about God, but their hearts were far from him. Their outside and inside didn’t match. And in many cases, neither do the insides and outsides of the people we are flocking to.

            I had an older person tell me once that the reason the grass is greener on the other side of the fence is because it’s fertilized with poop. At first I laughed, but then I realized the reality of the expression. Just because the outside seems all put together and perfect, it doesn’t mean the inside is the same.

            When I was younger, as soon as I entered a room, I began comparing myself to everyone in there. I never felt pretty enough, popular enough, or smart enough. Everyone seemed so confident and like they had the world by the tail. But as I’ve grown older, I no longer assess the room in the same way. Now, I look at every person in the room, especially the perfectly dressed, and I wonder—what is their broken? What happened to make them try so hard to seem like they have to keep it all together? What is it that rocked them to the core?

            At the end of the day, the outside doesn’t matter as much as the inside. Our heart. Intentions. Focus. Motives. Passions. Desires. Scars. Memories. Broken. Past. These are buried beneath the cleverly formed façade. Under the mask, we are all the same. Vulnerable. With a need to be loved. Accepted. Chosen. Wanted.

            Don’t get stuck looking at the outside this week. Make a point to see beyond the well-polished exterior of the ones who seem to have everything together. We might just find that they look a lot like us underneath.