Maybe they recognize my silver station wagon Jetta

Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday that I am student teaching, I drive on the same roads following the same route to get to the same school at the same time each morning.  And along my way, I see the same people doing the same thing everyday.  There is the mom who stands on the corner with her daughter waiting for the school bus.  There is the middle-aged woman who stands across the street reading her novel as she paces back and forth waiting for the city bus.  There are the same 3 pre-teens performing impressive “tricks” on their bikes along the sidewalk behind WinCo.  And there is the autistic man I would guess to be in his mid 30s who wears the same hoodie everyday was he walks toward me just before I cross Kuebler.  There is often even the same man who is waiting in his red truck finishing his handheld breakfast at the stop sign as I turn onto Melissa. 

I was thinking the other day (while I was driving this route) about how these people somehow play a role in my life.  I expect to see them.  They have become part of my daily commute and the days they are not there make me wonder where else the could possibly be but at their distinct locations doing their distinct “duty” at 7:50 in the morning. 

Then it hit me: maybe some of these people expect to see me.  Maybe they recognize my silver station wagon Jetta complete with Corban stickers on the back window and a tree air freshener hanging off the review mirror.  Maybe they expect to see my still shower-wet hair, mug of much needed coffee, and one of several “teacher sweaters” gracing their presence as they stand waiting for the bus, commuting to work, or finishing a breakfast-on-the-go.  As much as I think and feel like I am the factor that is affected by all the rest, the reality is: I am in this, too. 

There are people in our lives who leave a lasting impact.  Some of those people may not even be aware that we still think about them and are permanently affected by their words, actions, or example. 

There are many people who I am grateful for in my life.  They have helped me grow, learn and figure out this thing called life.  They have inspired me, encouraged me, and challenged me.  And sadly, many of them have no idea of their significance in my life.

There (unfortunately) are also people who have left some kind of scar.  Maybe it was that bully in 7^th grade who mocked me and put sucked-on suckers in my hair.  Or someone who could just never find something nice to say and whose cruel words still ring fresh in my ears.  Many of these people, perhaps even more so than the latter group, have no clue the impact they have made.

Regardless of weather or not you know it, you are making an impact in the lives of the people you come in contact with.  It’s easy to just focus on how others have impacted our own lives, but when we step back and really look at it, we are part of this, too. 

“And let us consider how to stir up one another to love and good works, not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encourage one another, and all the more as you see the Day drawing near.” (Hebrews 10:24-25)

Don’t get caught up in your hot cup of Joe, not-quite-finished-hair-do, or ever-consuming feeling of being in a hurry as you commute through life.  Remember that you are significant to those around you.  Good or bad, they will remember.  And while you have this opportunity, make the most of it.  Find ways to lift people up instead of bringing them down.  When it all comes down to it, we are all in this together.

Jesus with skin on

It was our first meal in Cachí (the village where we stayed in Costa Rica) when we met our friend, José.  As we finished our meal, I looked out the window to my right and saw a little boy’s head peeking around the corner.  I waved and he smiled back.  After a good 5 or 10 minutes of staring in the window, he decided to come inside with his own permission.  The group was receiving directions for the day when this boy began walking around, giving hugs, waving “hello,” and making himself at home. 

I tried to ask José how he was, “Como estás?”  No reply.  Then I tried to ask him his name, “Como se llama?”  No reply.  As a last resort, I simply tried to say hello, “Hola?”  Still, no reply.  It turns out that José is deaf.  It broke my heart that I couldn’t communicate with this little boy who was so excited that the gringos had arrived in Cachí.  How would I build a relationship with him?  How would I get to know him?  How would I share with him about Christ? 

The fact that we struggled to communicate with José didn’t deter him from visiting us daily.  Everyday as our bus would return from our village ministry, José was standing in the road awaiting our return.  He wore the biggest smile, waved his arms, and ran alongside of the bus as we pulled up to the church.  José was a common sight to see among our team.  He loved to take our cameras and have paparazzi photo shoots, he loved to clap to the music we played, he gave daily hugs, and was our biggest fan at futsal games. 

By the end of our stay in Cachí, it was apparent that we had all built a relationship with our new friend.  As we said our goodbyes as we loaded the bus to leave, José gave out his famous hugs (this time a little longer than normal) and shed tears to see us go.  It broke my heart.  But I was joyful in knowing that we had managed to show love to José (and he showed love to us) regardless of the fact that we could not talk to him.  We had shared Christ with José. 

Our ministry in Costa Rica was with the ticos there.  For the most part, they did not speak English, or only spoke a little.  This made ministry difficult for many people on the team who did not know any Spanish.  How could we share Christ if we couldn’t speak the same language?  Where do you begin? 

Just like with José, sharing Christ does not need to come from words alone.  Of course, we were equipped with Spanish pamphlets that explained the Gospel, but the main way we shared Christ was through our actions.  The students were often sent out to be “Jesus with skin on.”  This was a time for students to go out into the villages and do things Christ would do: pick up trash, buy treats for kids, wash cars, strike up conversations with lonely people (even if these conversations only consisted of ‘como estás?’), clean someone’s shop, LOVE PEOPLE. 

“A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another: just as I have loved you, you are also to love one another.  By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”  (John 13: 34-35)

That’s what we are called to do: love people.  So find ways to love.  How can you love with actions?  How can you share Christ in all you do?  Go and be Jesus with skin on.  

Hasty conclusions about my pasty skin

I love going to the fruit stand up the street here in Costa Rica.  I usually walk up in the morning to grab some green beans, an apple, or a pepper to take with me for the day.  The other day when I went to the stand, an old man was there buying his own produce.  I did the friendly (socially acceptable) thing- I smiled and then looked away.  This man, however, did not.  He smiled, but then stared at me for a good 2 minutes or more.  All I could think was, "how rude!" and "this is NOT polite."  I did my best to ignore him and turn my head so he couldn't stare.  I know my pasty white skin is a rare sight around here, but this was getting ridiculous.

It was at this moment of me thinking the worst of this man that I realized he was trying to pay for the apple I wanted to buy.  Embarrassment overwhelmed me.  How dare I think the worst of this man when he was attempting to show me love?

John 7:24 reminds us, "do not judge by appearances, but with right judgement." 

Far too often I make assumptions.  I make assumptions based on appearances, limited knowledge, and biased judgments.  And far too often these assumptions are wrong.

Things are not always as they seem.  Maybe I shouldn't jump to hasty conclusions about my pasty skin attracting unecessary attention.  Maybe I just shouldn't jump to conlcusions at all.  Maybe I should leave that up to God and mind my own business.

Frustrated by that extra slice of cheese

What happens to us as we walk into the doors of Subway?  How is it that we suddenly feel the right to snap at the workers about our choice of bread, meat, cheese, sauces, and vegetables?  Is it really necessary to be angry when the worker doesn’t catch everything on our long list of vegetable preferences the first time around?  Was it really that difficult to repeat “I’ll take some onions?"  Must we insist the worker puts on more bell peppers on top of our already overflowing sandwich?  Is there a nicer way to ask for less cheese than by saying, “only two slices; my waist can’t handle that third piece.” 

The other day I walked into Subway and had an experience quite like the one described above.  The lady in front of me acted like she owned the place.  Clearly, she was ordering a sandwich she had ordered many times before.  She was easily frustrated by that extra slice of cheese.  She wasn’t all too satisfied with the slightly excessive sweet onion sauce on her bread.  She insisted on extra spinach saying, “as much as you can get on there.”  I never heard her say “please” or “thank you” once. 

When the man got to my order, I felt awkward.  How do I follow this up?  Should I say “please” for every item I ask for and then “thank you” as he places each slice of meat, cheese, and vegetable on my sandwich?  (I decided that was a bit extreme)  Is there some way I can remedy this rudeness of the customer in front of me?  I feel bad for what happened.  I am a customer, just like this controlling lady in front of me was.  In some way, I felt responsible for her actions.

There are a lot of non-Christians who encounter Christians who leave a bad taste in their mouths.  These Christians are like the customers who go through Subway with some idea that they are “above” the workers (non-Christians), have the right to point out every flaw, and make “strong suggestions” as to how they can better their performance.  As I encounter non-Christians I tend to panic.  Thoughts stream through my mind: What experiences have they had with other Christians?  Have they been treated poorly by a church or Christian?  What should I do to let them know I am not going to judge them?  Should I be overly nice?  Should I do something to let them know I’m a “good guy?” 

The bottom line is this: be yourself. 

The more anxious I became about how I was going to order my sandwich after little-miss-know-it-all, the more awkward and burdened my conversation with this poor worker became.  In the same way, as I get myself worked up about encounters with non-Christians, my interactions become fake and impersonal.  If I can just be myself and show them love, they will be thankful.

Romans 12:9 says, “Let love be genuine.”  So let’s be genuine in who we are.  Accept people for who they are, leave judgment to God, and forget about the rude customer who passed before you.  Chances are, if you are real with them and leave them with love and joy, they will remember you more than those who have not.