Speaking Up, Stepping In

A couple things happened last week and I haven't been able to move on.
 
I stopped by Walgreens one afternoon to pick up an anniversary card.  As I hurriedly made my way to the card section, I thought I heard a "yelling voice" from somewhere near the back of the store.  I had the vague thought that it came from the restroom, but remained focused on my task.  Within a couple minutes, I heard a child crying followed by an angry, raised adult voice saying, "SHUT UP!  You don't have no reason to be crying."  That got my attention as I was on my way to the line at the register.  There was an uneasy feeling enveloping the moment and all of my fellow humans--the cashier, who was having a hushed conversation with the woman who was currently paying, the man who was selecting some cigarettes from behind the counter, and the young man who was helping him.   The woman in line ahead of me looked visibly shaken while the cashier told her, "I'm so sorry you had to see that," before she finished her transaction and left.  We were all tense, waiting to see the faces of the loud ugliness we had heard and, apparently in some cases, seen.  The first woman emerged from the back of the store looking bored.  She was followed by another woman, holding a little girl who was maybe a couple years old, who was currently not crying.  This second woman loudly said, "she didn't have no reason to be crying" as she seemed to avoid eye contact with anyone around and took her place in line.  Finishing my purchase, I had that feeling I've had too many times before that prompts me to step up....step in....  I took in the scene--we were all carefully looking but not looking at the sad trio while also clearly not aware of much else.  I tried out many approaches in my head--should I just say hi?  Should I try to engage the little girl?  Should I offer a smile?  Should I....  But I was scared, because it's just not done very often, this moving into the arena of "someone else's business.

And so I balked.  And I walked out the door and next door to Quik Trip to get an iced tea, all the while telling myself that if they were still at Walgreens when I returned to my car, I'd definitely say hello or something.  But they were gone, and I woodenly and uselessly got into my car and left the scene, knowing I had missed an opportunity to love and serve, and already grateful for God's grace in that as I felt the devastation of wondering what sort of life that little girl who cannot defend herself will have.

And then, a couple days later, I watched an adult verbally wound my own child.  I'm not sure the perpetrator knew I was present as she raised her voice and sent a verbal barrage that clearly told him, "I don't have time for your question or you; leave me alone."  I froze....again...because I wasn't sure it was my place to intervene, and I wasn't certain I was understanding the situation correctly.  I shared looks with the two people with whom I was talking and we were all distracted and lost track of what we were thinking before uneasily continuing our meeting.  But my heart was gone, as I kept looking over at my son, who quietly returned to his work.  I was wondering if other adults respond to him that way, and I grieved the shame he might have felt, being chastised like that in front of three other adults.  I was grateful that he would be coming home to me that night when I could talk to him about it and reassure him that he is loved, worthy of my time, and accepted no-matter-what.  And also, I would have the chance to apologize for not standing up and advocating for him right there and then. But in the back of my mind, I wondered, "Who else responds to my boy like that?  What about the other kids who are dismissed by people in their lives and then don't go home to love and acceptance--who might receive a message as my son did and have no one to tell them "that's not true, you are valued and worthy of my time?"

So, two times in as many days, I had my heart absolutely pierced by my responsibility to stand up for the ones who can't or don't yet know how to stand up for themselves, and by my failure to do so.  I am not wallowing in shame and self-condemnation, because I know there is abundant grace for me, and for all of us as we try to figure out what it looks like to enter in to the hard things; there needs to be a lot of stretching of some unused muscles of boldness and bravery in order to risk becoming the target of wrath, or (gasp!) making a mistake and misreading a situation.  This is exactly the sort of "what if?" that so often stops me from speaking up and/or acting, and it's cowardly and wrong and I know that God is moving in my heart to help me as I do this thing, live this life, love these kids.  We are raising the next adults; who will they become?  What voices are speaking into their lives that will become the voices in their heads and hearts?  We can be sure that our voices will find their way into our own kids, but consider the opportunities we have to speak kindness and Truth to other children--your own kids' friends, kids on your child's teams, in the neighborhood, at school...

...and maybe, someday, you could have the chance to change the story for a sad little girl at Walgreens and her mom who is having a hard day and maybe just doesn't know how to cope....  I don't have all the answers, and I know I can't go back and change my responses in those two situations, but I do know that in His grace, God is changing my heart and has promised to give me words (Luke 21:15) when I need them, and I will no longer stand by without speaking up and stepping in.

A Cr***y Sermon

I approached my friend and pastor after worship yesterday to say, "well, that was a lot of (insert word for poop) from the pulpit today...."  See, in our journey through Philippians over the past several weeks, this past Sunday found us in chapter three where Paul exhorts us to "rejoice in the Lord" by treasuring Jesus as our only righteousness.  Our pastor explained that Paul used some pretty strong language to discard Paul's own previous "good works" as meaningless in light of the true righteousness received only by Jesus' work on the cross.  In fact, in verse 8, Paul calls everything from which he drew his good standing "rubbish."  Our pastor then equated the Greek word of the original text with our modern day "crap."

Well, that's where I started squirming.  I never had much of a potty-mouth, but I did try out some profanity over the years.  As I have grown in my faith over the past several years, I have noticed a decreased tolerance for foul language in watching TV and movies.  So, whether outwardly or not, I flinched with each use of that word during the sermon yesterday.

I was pretty much kidding when I talked with my friend after the service, but had a vague feeling of discomfort throughout the rest of yesterday.  However, as I let the rest of the message fall on me as the day went on, I started having some other thoughts that led me to wonder if my unease stemmed from the word itself, or what it represented in my own life?

I walk a fine line, I think, between doing as inspired by God's Holy Spirit, and doing as inspired by my own desire to please.  It was a painful revelation for me a few years back when God removed me from a place--both physical and metaphorical--where I was heavily doing and serving and had woven myself into an uncomfortable and tenuous position of defining my worth and standing based on works.  He firmly but so kindly disentangled me and placed me in a spot where it was impossible to hide behind anything.  It made me scared, and it made me mad.  In fact, as I sat alone in worship one Sunday, as Mark was out of town for work, I frantically scribbled down all of the reasons why I was angry with God for putting me in such an uncomfortable position when I had been happy with my place.... 
Oh.
At that point it hit me that what I had been doing was all about me and my work and very marginally about Jesus and His work.  Well, that shut me right down and put me on a path of gratitude and repentance that gradually allowed me to open my heart and eyes to where He was leading.  I still marvel at the grace of His guidance during that time.

So, yesterday was good.  I can't say I relish that particular word or its use, but I must admit I am grateful for the uneasy feeling and slight offense.  As I mentioned before, I walk a fine line in my doing, and I need practice in discerning the nasty odor of pride and self-satisfaction from the pleasing aroma that comes from service that stems only from gratitude for the right-standing I have with God because of Jesus.