I'm realizing some things. There is plenty that I know, but much less that I can apply. I could rattle on for ages about God's will, God's character, God's faithfulness as demonstrated in the Old Testament. That's Sunday school kid stuff. It's good to know, but unless you can use it, what's the point of having it?
It's like tightrope walking over New York City. I can tell you all about tightrope walking. I could read books, watch documentaries, read through Wikipedia. I could research techniques, historical landmarks and records in the field, different tightrope materials. But ask me to set up a rope and walk across two skyscrapers in New York City and I'd run.
I've been asked to tightrope walk twice this week. Both times I have been rendered nearly useless. The first time was Monday. Work party. Sure, bowling and Italian food sounded fun. I work with fun people; they're nice to me, sounded like a good idea. My first twinge of concern was when the girl I was riding with said she forged a note to her brother's principal to get him out of school early so he could come. The second came when we parked at the bowling place and they talked about leaving the car there overnight. Was everyone really planning on being that smashed? Third twinge? Oh yeah, that was when my boss asked one of our cooks, who's 17, if she wanted to ask her mom permission to have a few drinks. The drinking age here is 18, but he'd buy her some if her mom said it was ok. Drunk by the end of the night? Yep.
As a principle, I don't have a problem with drinking. I'm not in favor of doing it in front of recovering alcoholics, and I'm not in favor of getting drunk, but I don't care about you having a merlot with your T-bone or a margarita with your chimichanga. Most of them were sloshing drunk by 4:30 in the afternoon. I wasn't worried about catching a ride home or about my personal well-being. What I was concerned with was what they thought of me. Because I'm here working as someone who follows Jesus, and they know I don't drink, I imagine they look at me with different standards. So what do I do? Do I laugh along with them, saying with my actions that what they're doing is just fine but knowing it's not? Do I scowl and try to make them feel guilty for trashing their livers and in some cases, their reputations? I didn't know what to do. I tried to be as chummy as I could while maintaining a sort of modest disapproval. The winner of the evening was Lana. She did what I wish I had done under the circumstances. She laughed a little, kept track of people's bags and jackets, and mothered the puking ones along, while calling them out for their four-letter frenzy at the restaurant. She didn't let her ideas distance her from people, but she wasn't shy about what she thought either. Sometimes I think people who don't follow Jesus act more like Him than His followers.
Second tightrope. A husband loses a wife, not even 15 years into their marriage. They have a child. Children shouldn't lose their mothers. I could tell you all about how God loves us and is faithful to us, but explaining that to people who are grieving? It makes me want to give up explaining forever. Then when the father visits a psychic who says he talked to his dead wife? What do you think about things like that? What do you say? Is there a need to say something? In an unattached way, I'd say it's hokey and ridiculous, but as an act of desperation in an attempt to deal with the greatest grief a man can face? The truth doesn't change, but sometimes it seems a little heavy to carry.
In this tightrope walk, we attempt to bridge the gap between the things we believe with all our hearts and the ways we live our days. It is my hope, as I walk with Jesus, to understand how to erase the distance.
Little Miss Sunshine
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