everything that's on my mind
(as if there's not already enough people doing this)Thursday, November 17, 2005
Jesus in my neighborhood
There are times from our past that make us feel ashamed. Everyone has those things that they wish the could undo. In the long list of screw-ups that I'd like to erase from my past, this one is probably not exactly at the top, relatively speaking. But, it's one that, for some reason, has been on my mind recently. I don't even remember why I started thinking about it, what jogged my memory and caused me to remember this. But it's been there nevertheless.
There was a boy in my neighborhood when I was growing up who I never exactly treated the best I could have. I wasn't mean to him all of the time. In fact, most of the time we played together quite well, I suppose. But there were times when I treated him unkindly. I didn't even think I was at the time, but I was. He was younger than I was, and a little different than the rest of us. His family was a little different, having moved there from another part of the country. These differences were obvious to myself and other children in our neighborhood, and, being children, we often made him the object of our ridicule or the butt of our jokes. We all poked fun at each other, I suppose, but the glaring differences seemed to make it easier to direct such things towards him, and looking back, it was probably a little harsher when directed his way. Children do mean things sometimes - even good kids - but I know that behaving in such a way - if not immediately, then maybe thirty or so years later when you recall it - makes you feel remorse and regret. It just makes me sad. Sad that I behaved that way. Even more sad that he had to endure my unkindness and stupid behavior.
Now, having kids of my own, the thoughts of my shameful actions are even more painful. How do I feel when I see my daughter's hurt feelings over something another child has done or said to her at school or at play? How would I feel if some child acted like I did thirty years ago towards my own child? Here's how I'd feel: first, I'd feel compassion for my child. Even though I may have acted badly at times, I've also been on the receiving end, too. So I know both sides of the story. But, secondly, I'd be extremely angry. I would wonder why this evil child had dared to treat my beautiful daughter or son that way. What could this kid be thinking? Was he/she raised by wolves? I'd probably also question the intelligence and ability of his/her parents.
But I wasn't raised by wolves, and my parents are great parents who tried to teach me what was right and what was wrong, and how to treat people the right way. But hearing is the easy part. Doing is harder, and I didn't always do what I knew to be right. And when I didn't, someone's child suffered because of me.
Considering my own feelings as a parent in such a situation also made me think about Mary. What did Mary do that day in Jerusalem when they arrested her son, beat him, mocked him, spat on him, tortured him, and eventually, killed him? How did she contain herself? Did she react the way I would - with anger, trying to put a stop to what was happening, perhaps cursing those responsible? I doubt it. But I'm sure her pain was beyond my comprehension. There's the pain over seeing your child distressed over a schoolyard incident, and then there's the pain of seeing your child on a cross.
I mentioned Stuart Townend's song "How Deep The Father's Love" the other day. These lyrics came to mind today as I thought about this post:
Maybe this is why that memory has been brought back to the front from some remote part of my mind. Maybe I'm supposed to remember this story so that I will not forget to teach my own children the importance of treating others like Jesus. Maybe it's because I'm failing to see Jesus in everyone I encounter today, thirty years later, and acting accordingly. What good is saying I follow Jesus if I don't act like it?
But it's not really about doing anyway. I said earlier hearing is the easy part, and doing is harder. But doing can be done without the heart being involved. There's another thing even harder than doing, and ultimately more important, and that's being. That comes from the heart. If I am going to treat others like I would treat Jesus, then it's going to involve being - being like Jesus. In being, the doing will follow.
He may not have been Jesus, but I should have treated him like he was.
There was a boy in my neighborhood when I was growing up who I never exactly treated the best I could have. I wasn't mean to him all of the time. In fact, most of the time we played together quite well, I suppose. But there were times when I treated him unkindly. I didn't even think I was at the time, but I was. He was younger than I was, and a little different than the rest of us. His family was a little different, having moved there from another part of the country. These differences were obvious to myself and other children in our neighborhood, and, being children, we often made him the object of our ridicule or the butt of our jokes. We all poked fun at each other, I suppose, but the glaring differences seemed to make it easier to direct such things towards him, and looking back, it was probably a little harsher when directed his way. Children do mean things sometimes - even good kids - but I know that behaving in such a way - if not immediately, then maybe thirty or so years later when you recall it - makes you feel remorse and regret. It just makes me sad. Sad that I behaved that way. Even more sad that he had to endure my unkindness and stupid behavior.
Now, having kids of my own, the thoughts of my shameful actions are even more painful. How do I feel when I see my daughter's hurt feelings over something another child has done or said to her at school or at play? How would I feel if some child acted like I did thirty years ago towards my own child? Here's how I'd feel: first, I'd feel compassion for my child. Even though I may have acted badly at times, I've also been on the receiving end, too. So I know both sides of the story. But, secondly, I'd be extremely angry. I would wonder why this evil child had dared to treat my beautiful daughter or son that way. What could this kid be thinking? Was he/she raised by wolves? I'd probably also question the intelligence and ability of his/her parents.
But I wasn't raised by wolves, and my parents are great parents who tried to teach me what was right and what was wrong, and how to treat people the right way. But hearing is the easy part. Doing is harder, and I didn't always do what I knew to be right. And when I didn't, someone's child suffered because of me.
Considering my own feelings as a parent in such a situation also made me think about Mary. What did Mary do that day in Jerusalem when they arrested her son, beat him, mocked him, spat on him, tortured him, and eventually, killed him? How did she contain herself? Did she react the way I would - with anger, trying to put a stop to what was happening, perhaps cursing those responsible? I doubt it. But I'm sure her pain was beyond my comprehension. There's the pain over seeing your child distressed over a schoolyard incident, and then there's the pain of seeing your child on a cross.
I mentioned Stuart Townend's song "How Deep The Father's Love" the other day. These lyrics came to mind today as I thought about this post:
Behold the Man upon a cross,Had Mary been reacting to "the scoffers" that day, she would have been reacting to people like me. This is what makes it more painful. Jesus said that the way we treat others is the way we're treating him. If I'm not treating others like I would treat Jesus, then I'm not really treating Jesus like Jesus, either, am I?
My sin upon His shoulders
Ashamed I hear my mocking voice,
Call out among the scoffers
Maybe this is why that memory has been brought back to the front from some remote part of my mind. Maybe I'm supposed to remember this story so that I will not forget to teach my own children the importance of treating others like Jesus. Maybe it's because I'm failing to see Jesus in everyone I encounter today, thirty years later, and acting accordingly. What good is saying I follow Jesus if I don't act like it?
But it's not really about doing anyway. I said earlier hearing is the easy part, and doing is harder. But doing can be done without the heart being involved. There's another thing even harder than doing, and ultimately more important, and that's being. That comes from the heart. If I am going to treat others like I would treat Jesus, then it's going to involve being - being like Jesus. In being, the doing will follow.
He may not have been Jesus, but I should have treated him like he was.
Archives
May 2004 August 2005 September 2005 October 2005 November 2005 December 2005 January 2006 February 2006 March 2006 April 2006
