In the Market for a Little Lesson

I was emptying my grocery cart, placing my items on the belt, when the cashier barked something at the customer ahead of me. It was something that made no sense to me; it didn't seem he'd done anything wrong. But then I saw it: the employee this cashier had bagging for her was waaaay behind. And he was chatting. I could see the line getting longer behind me; the cashier was a flurry of motion, but the bagger was oblivious. He chatted to the customer about the store's rewards program and the local baseball team's latest choke. It is Philadelphia, after all. As the cashier began to ring my order, the bagger examined each item. Oh, wow! These cookies look delicious! Can you believe the price of eggs these days? Danishes! Looks like someone in your house has a sweet tooth! The cashier seethed, and then I knew: I'd just seem a glimpse of who I used to be.

Full disclosure, the employee bagging was learning disabled. Years ago, when I worked at this market, I worked next to someone who was disabled. I was in my twenties, physically and mentally healthy, and quite capable of handling the position I was given. My coworker struggled. He wanted nothing more than to do a great job and get along with everyone, but his disability prevented him from discerning things like when to be chatty and when to kick it into high gear. His problem solving skills were much different from those of us with a get-it-done-yesterday and a me-first mindset. Needless to say, my delusion that I was somehow a better employee or even, a better human being than he was, led me to hate working with him. I'd spend the shift frustrated, venting to other employees behind my coworker's back-- even going so far as to get a little loud with my comments from time to time just to make his night as miserable as I was allowing mine to be. He'd hang his head and fall into silence or, worse, he'd continue to be kind to me.

As I drove home from the market, I prayed. My God, who redeems even the ugliest of moments, had shown me something. I knew what this woman was going through. Like I had, so many years ago, she was resisting the presence of this young man with all she had. He slowed her down. He made the lines long and caused customers to complain. He wasn't responsible like she was; no matter how backed up things got, he would do nothing to alleviate the problem. It all fell on her. And I prayed the Holy Spirit would open her eyes to just how wrong she was. I prayed she would allow God to do what He was doing: for the customers who were blessed by this man's friendly chatter (in a world where, more often than not, we're required to do our own cashiering before an insentient screen), for this young man and his most basic sense of purpose and responsibility-- holding down a job, for the company which receives an incentive for employing the disabled, and for her. 

Spending time with others is a privilege-- the ones who irritate us, even more so. Learning to thrive in difficult situations or appreciate those different from us develops character. If we trust God is doing something to change us or change our circumstances, we can develop in new ways. Years ago, I was too self-centered, too arrogant to appreciate what God was doing by sending someone different into my life. My fixation on my own pain left no room for compassion for others. My quest to prove to everyone just how good I was, left me unable to appreciate the value of simply being friendly. But pressure makes the difference between the common and the priceless, the forgotten and the champion. If God didn't love us, He'd leave us exactly the way we are: selfish, hurried, intolerant, uneducated, alone, unsympathetic; He'd keep things comfortable, burdenless. If He didn't love us, He wouldn't use even our bad behavior to teach us something, or lead us to pray for someone we see resisting change. There is no better way for a Father to show His love than to help us be better than we are. There is no greater privilege than to have the God of the Universe want to change you, removing the old and unsuitable, replacing it with the new and beautiful. I hope He's making you uncomfortable today.

First Things First

"Head on downstairs and grab some time to yourself," my husband offered. I had an hour, at best, before the ravaging hoards would be looking for dinner. I raced to my office and began searching through my "Draft" folder to see what articles I could quickly complete.

So, you're not even going to spend some time in Scripture, first?

"I've got an hour," I protested. "I haven't got time for that right now."

I mean, not even a prayer?

"Ok, Jesus. Um, thank You for this time. May my words be Your words. Amen." And I dug in. Two hours later, dinner wasn't on the table, I think I'd deleted twice as much as I'd typed, and I stomped up the stairs annoyed. "Why can't these people make their own dinner," I thought. "There has to be a better way; I hardly have any time to work on the things I need to do. I get so tired of serving everyone else around here. Who serves me?" blah blah blah, murmur murmur

It was Martin Luther who said:

"I have so much to do today that I'm going to need to spend three hours in prayer in order to be able to get it all done."

I'm not sure whether everything on his list got checked off that day, but if it didn't, I know he was better for it.

Throughout Scripture, God requires of His people the "first fruits" of their labors. First fruits. Whatever we've got, His comes right off the top; whether it's our paychecks or "time to ourselves." He knows we are naturally self-centered. If we wait to give God His due, we get careless, distracted, forgetful at best. I think, more accurately, we figure nothing bad has happened yet; He won't miss it. And we go on about life as if we have control. 

You see, I know I get more done when I pray. I know the thoughts and words pour out of me almost too quickly to type them, when I come to God first, giving Him all my attention and seeking His plan for that time. Whether it be an hour or only a minute or two, a heart poured out in earnest first, is what God requires and what works best if I am to hear His voice (even if it doesn't make print). I know this. But there are times I am too stubborn, too self-seeking, too rebellious to listen to even my own good sense telling me what is best. Those are the times that end up most often, in frustration. I can't seem to find the words. My ideas go completely off the rails. And my family becomes more of a burden to me than a blessing. Not really, but that's how badly my entire perspective is affected in my rebellion.

I have so much to do today, I must first spend as much time with God as He directs. May that be the standard for all our endeavors.