Looking for God Right Where You Are
I want to tell you a story about me really missing it. It seems that God often gifts me with the ability to publicly humiliate myself, find His grace and mercy in it, and then come back and tell my friends about it so hopefully they can gain from my mistakes.
My wife, Yvonne, and I were out for a birthday double date with our friends Jeff and Becky (with their newborn baby girl as a tagalong). We had gone to a restaurant and, in our usual fashion, we hit the bookstore afterward to stare at books wishing we hadn't eaten so much.
We got coffee, engaged in stimulating conversation; the night was going well. We had settled outside the store on the porch because it was an amazing evening. The breeze was perfect and the temperature just right for kicking back.
When I'm enjoying myself, nine times out of ten I'll start cruising along in that mentality and I'll want it to stay that way. Who doesn't? But my problem is, interruptions and intrusions into my comfy evening will really set me off. I'm totally caught off guard and I can lose track of myself. I'll say things I shouldn't and get all intense and then wait for the inevitable embarrassment that follows.
Well, it happened. Cigarette smoke was wafting our way. A middle aged man in a leather jacket, not even 10 feet away from us "and the baby" had just lit up. I studied him from behind for a minute. My assessment was that he was the mid-life crisis type, stylish hair, the jacket, a loner. He didn't care about anyone but himself.
Becky and I exchanged glances (she and I tend to respond fairly similarly in situations like these). I was very irritated.
We decided that we'd head back inside. Everyone got up, but I lagged just a bit behind. I knew inside that what I was about to do was not going to be approved of by the others. Especially Jeff, he hates it when I get like this.
I walked past the man, and, with a casual and sarcastically cold spite, said, "Thanks for smoking us out, man."
I kept walking.
"Excuse me?"
I turned around, he was obviously annoyed, I really did not want to look him in the eyes. "We were sitting there with a baby and you lit that thing up right next to us."
"I didn't see the baby."
Embarrassed, I walked away and shot back, "It's fine."
I just wanted to get out of there. I didn't want any more confrontation. I headed into the coffee shop. But I heard the door open behind me.
"Son!" He was calling me son.
"Son!" he really wanted my attention. I turned around, and he looked me straight in the eye. "I didn't see the baby there." His eyes hurt to look at. I didn't want to see into them. There was a whole lot there, a whole lot of years of hurt and struggle in those two dark eyes.
"It's fine, really," I replied again and made to walk away.
"Son!" Again with the "son" business.
I turned around again. He was looking straight into me, "You've got a big mouth." He said it so calm, and with so much conviction. He turned to walk away, and I did the same.
I went to my friends. Embarrassment was all over my face. "Man..." I sighed.
"You said something didn't you?" Jeff said, "I knew you would."
I couldn't get the guys voice out of my head. "Son..."
The guy wanted to help me live better. I, a foolish young man, wanted to drop a bomb of condemnation in his lap and run.
This was not Christ's way. This wasn't okay. This isn't how a "real" follower of Christ should act. This was not love.
I left my friends and told them I'd meet them in the car. It's hard to apologize to friends; it's even harder to apologize to a total stranger. We're a cold society which doesn't take Matthew 25 very seriously at all. If we did, we'd all live a whole lot differently. We'd drive differently, walk, talk, text and wave differently. Our privacy and comfort would be of no concern, only to take care of God's children.
All that aside, I went back to the man. There he was, sitting there with a coffee and a cigarette.
"Sir," I started. "I was way out of line. I was very disrespectful. I'm sure you wouldn't have done that if you knew my friend was sitting there holding a baby." It was hard to say it. "I'm very sorry."
Once again it seemed like he was looking straight into me. He wasn't a cool guy or a tough guy. His jacket was old and worn, his hair thin. He looked totally different than he had when I first saw him. But there was wisdom in those eyes. He knew things I didn't, and he had seen things that my young eyes haven't imagined.
He said, "I've had little ones of my own. I'd never do anything to hurt a little one. Really." He was almost pleading.
"I'm sure you wouldn't. I'm so sorry." I hesitated. "Thank you for being honest with me. You're right, I do have a big mouth."
"It's okay. Thanks for coming back."
We said goodbye, and I walked to the car.
The whole thing ate at me for a while ... maybe not enough though. I told another friend about the whole thing, and he took notice of the fact that the man came after me calling me "son." He said that the "Father" definitely speaks when we don't expect it. That was God talking through that man.
Look for Him ... don't get distracted. Listen for Him, memorize his voice.
No matter how much it hurts or embarrasses, it's always a wonderful thing when the God of all creation wants to talk to you.
