About once a year
I get together with my friend to have lunch.
We talk old times, and new times, and movies, and books and
theology. It is always good to see him,
and I look forward to seeing him again.
Our schedules keep us preoccupied, and our callings keep us busy.
This day, we talk of the challenge of
the gospel is to see Christ in all people.
We both acknowledge that it is a challenge to say the least, but it is a
lofty ideal to strive for, just as being Christ to all people is also a lofty
ideal. Lunch ends with some more banter,
and then we are off.
Then two hours later...
A man is screaming
at me. It matters not who he is, you
would have seen one of him too. I have
seen many of him. He has been drinking,
and that has added to the rage that spews from his mouth. There has been a slight; we have played
paintball too close to him, an excuse to vent the ugliness of his soul on
someone. He finishes with me, and
charges off towards my friend. He has
his buddies with him. My friend and
myself are strangely calm, they do mean us harm. After a number of long minutes, it ends. There has been a shove or two, and the
screaming man has shot me a couple of times with a paint ball gun he wrestled
off of one of the kids that had been playing.
But it is over, and we leave.
I have had other hims to deal with all
through my life. The man who is upset
that I do not agree with his view of traffic regulations. The man who has taken exception to some
imagined slight to what I have said. And
the proverbial “Who you looking at?” And
in these men, try as I might, I cannot see Christ. Although have had woman yell at me, there is
not the same level of physical intimidation.
This exchange, as vile as it was, is
an invitation. It is an invitation to
ugliness, and it is compelling and seductive.
I am drawn repeatedly to think about what I should have done – of course
these imaginings are always violent. I
am also drawn to curse the driver in the parking lot that is taking too long to
get out of my way. I am drawn to break
bad on the next person that deserves it.
It is an invitation to be ugly of soul and spirit.
Also I realize that I have been him. I have waited for someone to say the wrong
thing, look at me the wrong way, make a mistake so that I can be ugly. But it doesn’t work. I cannot be ugly enough or mean enough or
nasty enough to ever take away the injury to my soul that I am trying to make
up for by doing that. From experience I
know that such anger is the path of the fool.
So I have this invitation to join him
in the misery that encompasses his soul.
I believe, and I could be wrong, that there has been insult and injury
that have brought him to a place where he thinks that is how you treat
people. It is a place of be fucked over
or do the fucking over. I also know that
there will come a time when he will be treated as such.
There is also
another invitation.
Romans 12:2 Do not
conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of
your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is--his
good, pleasing and perfect will.
There is also an invitation
to do life differently, not conform to the pattern of the world. And so, I pray for this man. At first begrudgingly, then more willingly,
and now sincerely. I can see myself in
him; that over the top rage at an imagined slight. I forgive him, and have had to do so
repeatedly.
This is not a great work, this is an
act of desperation, I do not want to join that man in that life. I also pray in gratitude that a number of
other people were not there, it could have been so much uglier, and so much
more damaging. I also pray in gratitude
that I am me, that I am not him. As I
cuddle my wife in bed this gratitude deepens.
It has been just
over forty eight hours since this encounter.
The bruises on my back, from the close range paintball shots, are
turning interesting colours. I am at a
place where I am grateful for that experience.
Salvation, the idea of it, takes on a
different meaning for me in light of the events on Friday. By praying for this man I am working out my
salvation. My salvation is not from some
eternal conscious torment, but from a state of being where that is an
acceptable way to live.
I would ask you, dear reader, to pray
for this man as well.
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