Tuesday, February 22, 2011

I was in line at the post office this morning behind a young mom and her wee daughter—an adorable little munchkin with huge brown eyes who must have been about 18 months old. Her fuzzy brown mop of hair stuck out crazily on all sides as though she’d stuck her finger in the power outlet in the not-so-distant past, and her tiny red mouth was perpetually formed into a wonder-filled O.

She was remarkably active, toddling all over the place like a tiny little drunk person, much to the amusement of the elderly men and women who were patiently waiting in line to mail their packages. While her mother was distracted talking to the clerk behind the counter, the fearless little explorer took it into her head to see the great outdoors. As her pink diapered bottom tottered out through the doors into the street, however, her adventure was abruptly terminated by a fatherly-looking fireman who ducked out right behind her and swooped her up into his arms. There was some general laughter as he returned to the post office with the wee prodigal, she looking up at him curiously, fearlessly, while he returned her gaze with kindly amusement.
Her mother thanked him profusely, and apologized, but I think he was rather enjoying the little midget, because he offered to hold her until her mother finished at the counter.

Thirty seconds later, an elderly woman came in with two identical twin boys in tow. The boys were probably a few months past their second birthdays—they were walking well, and starting to experiment with basic English phrases in cute lispy toddler voices.
As they came in, both sets of little boy eyes latched onto the fireman right inside the door…and then both sets of little eyes noticed the wee girl in his arms. She looked at them curiously, as though she had never seen little boys before. The boys, however, had clearly seen little girls before. Huge smiles instantly appeared on their faces.

“Ooo!” one of them cooed, lisping in his amazement and excitement, “It’th cuuuute! Look at du baby!”

“Yeah!” his brother nodded enthusiastically. The two little dudes stood there admiringly, stock still, gazing up at this small female wonder.

I almost lost it at that point—it was SO funny! These two little men were hardly more than babies themselves, but clearly they felt that they had long passed the point that this chick was at.

I suppose it’s a lesson that broadly applies to all of life—we tend to look back at those who stand where we stood—emotionally, spiritually, or psychologically—just a few short months ago…and we make comparisons, and think to ourselves how much we’ve grown, or how much different we are from these others…when in fact, there is probably very little that separates us…and if we find that we are allowing ourselves to focus on the differences, we’re probably missing the real point of our life journey anyway. So many incredible lessons to be learned from the commonplace!

Incidentally, if it weren’t highly illegal and just generally unadvisable, I think I’d go kidnap me a cute little pair of identical twin boys tonight…but I shall exercise admirable amounts of self-control instead, and refrain.

Wednesday, February 16, 2011

Last night I had the privilege of sitting beside one of my best friends as we watched a number of men and women worshipping through poetry—poems that they had written, rap that they’d composed…it was fascinating. The audience and the participants were largely African American. I confess, I think I’ve grown up with a very ethnocentric, white Baptist view of what worship looks like, of what it is or is not…and last night was eye opening on several levels.

I remember watching one girl in particular—watching her more closely, perhaps, because I know something of her history, something of what she has struggled with, something of the ways in which she’s fallen in the past—and as I heard the words coming out of her mouth, I wondered to myself if this was her heart, or if this was simply words that she thought others wanted to hear.

The words of a Casting Crowns song came to mind as I watched: does anybody hear her? Does anybody see? Does anybody even know she’s going down today under the shadow of our steeple, with all the lost and lonely people, searching for the hope that’s tucked away in you and me…

How often do we force people to pretend to be what they are not in order to win the approval of those who don’t even really care? This is such a diminished picture of the rich reality of what relationships within the body of Christ ought to be…and yet it’s tragically commonplace.

I realized as I watched that I have often been unfair in judging people by their failures rather than choosing to value them and focus on their strengths. And I wondered to myself how often I really see people for who they truly are…