You yourselves are our letter, written on our hearts, known and read by everyone. 2 Corinthians 3:2
Not long ago, I ran across a list of purportedly authentic supervisor endorsements: “His men would follow him anywhere but only out of morbid curiosity.” “This employee is not so much of a has-been but more of a definitely won’t-be.” “He sets low personal standards and then consistently fails to achieve them.” “This employee should go far—and the sooner he starts, the better.” Hopefully none of these could have been written about you or me.
Endorsements and recommendations are powerful tools in understanding a per- son you’re considering putting on your payroll, giving you a significant snapshot of this person you do not know well or at all. When you’re about to make a substantial investment in a new employee, and you want to be certain it’s a wise one, endorsements are valuable.
If you’ve read today’s verses, you know exactly where all of this is going, don’t you? If you haven’t, then you might want to fasten your seat belt. “You yourselves are our letter [of recommendation],” the apostle Paul wrote to the Christians in the city of Corinth. “You show that you are Christ’s letter, delivered by us, not written with ink but with the Spirit of the living God—not on tablets of stone but on tablets of human hearts” (vv. 2–3).
Take a moment to let this sink in. You and I are notarized documents for the living God. If people want to know more about God, “reading,” watching, and listening to us ought to give them an accurate snapshot. “If Robert’s a recommendation for God, then I’m interested” ought to be the most prominent goal my heart could ever long for. Or, “If Robert represents God, I’ll have to pass” would be the most tragic thing I could imagine hearing about me.
If you have children, as a dad, there’s another interesting dimension of this truth. Growing up as a preacher’s kid, I became accustomed to going to summer camps where my dad was one of the men standing behind the microphone. Sometimes at these camps, my uncle Eber was also a speaker. This was good because it gave me a chance to be with my favorite cousin, Ray. If Ray and I each had a dollar for every time someone asked us our names, then said, “Oh, you must be Eber’s boy,” or “You must be Sam’s boy,” we would drive German imports today. (Wait a minute, Ray does drive a German import! Hmmm.)
Anyway, Ray and I became accustomed to being “letters of endorsement” for our preacher dads. At first, this made me proud. Then, going through adolescence, I wasn’t crazy about the label. Now that I have learned how wise and godly my own father was during those years, I’m happy to be Sam’s representative again.
Your children are your letters of endorsement, just as you are for your heavenly Father. This means that, as you obey Him and then teach your children to obey you, your children become a confirming postscript on your letter. Isn’t this great?
If you want my advice, never hire a person without checking references. And if I were one of your friends, I’d suggest that before they consider God, they ought to read your letter, too. Maybe even look at those young postscripts at your house.