Sunday, 13 July 2014

70. The invitation



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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