I'll probably get flack for saying this, but you know it's true. It would be so easy to act the part of a Christian, if not for:
-traffic
-other people.
You can laugh at me all you want to, but I have a magnetic cross on the back of my car. It's not to announce my faith so much as it is to help me to keep my windows rolled up, certain body parts down, and my mouth shut. I know me. I know me. I need big reminders. I don't own any 'Christian' shirts (unless you count the 15 identical Amy Grant shirts) but I've been thinking maybe I need to stock up for the same reason I stuck a cross on my bumper.
Sometimes I think, "Wow, my heart has changed so much!" and other times I think, "Whoa! I've got a long way to go!" Take, for example, my visit to the doctor this afternoon. It's a Christian practice. The walls of the children's section of the waiting room are covered in a Veggie Tales mural. Worship muzak is piped in over the speakers. There is a Gideon Bible on every table, and there is one in every examination room. The people are always nice, even though they charge a fee for everything under the sun. It's not the type of place you would expect to find confrontation, unless the doctors started fighting over who gets to open in prayer.
The office closes at 5:00 on a Friday, and I managed to squeeze in a last-minute 4:30 appointment. There were four people in the reception area - me, my husband, an elderly woman, and an older man who smelled like turpentine who also had extremely greasy hair. I went over to the magazine rack to grab some reading material when he stood up and got there before me. OK. No problem. Except that he stood there, blocking the whole rack, spending several minutes reading each magazine he picked up. He knew I was there. I was coughing. He didn't care.
I should have sat down. I could have read a Gideon Bible. But I didn't. I stayed there, moved a little closer, bumped his elbow just slightly, forced him to move. I really, really wanted to say something smart, but I didn't. That's a victory in itself - openly rude people drive me crazy.
A few minutes later, as I was coughing up a lung and reading about Taylor Swift in WebMD magazine (it was either that or a 2-year-old issue of National Geographic), I heard a loud, "UUUUUUUUUHHHHHH." I'm nosy, so I leaned forward to look in the direction of the grunt. It was him. He put his hands on his head and yelled, "I SHOULD KNOW BETTER THAN TO SCHEDULE AN APPOINTMENT ON A FRIDAY!"
The old lady pretended not to hear him. (On second thought, maybe she really didn't hear him), and I looked over at my husband who was wide-eyed and nervously mouthing the word, "DON'T!"
Ah. He knows me so well. Too well. There was a time when I would have told the old grump to save the drama for his mama and just be glad he got a Friday appointment at all. It might have escalated into a full-on confrontation. My husband would have been dragging me towards the door by my arm. My mother always told me, "God gave you a mouth; use it." That wasn't quite what she meant, but she can't ever say I didn't listen.
But I've grown. I've changed! Now, instead of getting in someone's face... I sweat profusely and mumble under my breath.
Grumpy Pants made his way up to the reception window.
"Hey, I've got things to do! I can't be sitting around here all day!"
They asked him if he wanted to reschedule. But, no, he didn't want to reschedule. He wanted to complain. He repeated his displeasure, sat back down, and let out another grunt. I kept my face buried in WebMD, muttering to myself as my husband smacked me in the knee and told me to be quiet. It was painful. It was like being tied to a chair while someone waved a million dollars in your face. Pleeeeaaassseee let them call my name before this guy's! I was picturing the whole thing in my head. They would call my name, I'd mosey on up to the nurse in my own sweet time, and then I'd say, "Man, I've got a lot to run by the doctor today!"
But they called him first. I'm sure you'll be shocked to know that he complained the whole way down the hall and into the exam room - I could hear him. They called me five minutes later.
As I sat in the exam room waiting for the doctor, I was struck by what a hothead I am, and how pointless most of the things I get frustrated over really are. Someone with the mind of Christ would have engaged that man to find out what was so heavy on his heart... or they would have been smart enough to just leave well enough alone. And someone with the mind of Christ wouldn't have been plotting ways to further annoy him, but would have willingly offered to let him go first if the opportunity presented itself.
"Whoa! I've got a long way to go!"
If there's any sort of encouragement to be found in this story, it's that I at least realized how ridiculous I was being. In the past... I don't know, I think I would have felt completely justified in my annoyance and in my comments. Not this time, though. This isn't who I want to be. God gave me a mouth and I want to use it to speak Truth into the lives of others, not gripe at grouchy people who are obviously in need of encouragement and not curses.
The Christian life is an interesting thing. Why is it that when we take a step forward it seems so insignificant, but when we take a step back it seems to huge? Oh, that's right - the enemy. The one who wants us to believe we haven't improved and never will.
I guess if you screw up, realize it, and want to change... that's evidence of God's work in your heart. So I am trying to be encouraged....but not as encouraged as I'll be when I face a similar situation and my first thought is love and compassion.
Now THAT is the mind of Christ.
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