Routine Confessions

What makes me a true follower of Christ?  I've been asking myself this question in a newer way this past week.  I say newer because I was around some people who don't go to church and don't profess Christ as their Lord in any open way that I'm aware of.  I had to ask myself, "What is different in the way I live my life than how they live theirs?"  As well as, "What about my life shows them they need anything different than what they already are experiencing?"

I don't know if those questions make a lot of sense, but the interaction that took place showed me that they and I are really no different in how we live our lives.  These people raise their children in a good, healthy affirming way.  They are nice like we are.  They dress like we dress.  Save money like we save.  Spend money like we spend. Love the same things that we love.  Watch the same shows that we watch.  Enjoy the same leisure activities that we enjoy.  So I'm curious as to what about my life is different than theirs besides the fact that I attend church twice weekly.

We were in a park in downtown Birmingham where I lied to a crack head about not having money.  I say this lady was a crack head but I don't know that for sure.  I had a pocket full of cash ($80 to $100 is a pocket full to me which is about what I had) and when she came up to me I just said, "I don't have any money," and kept walking.  This was a flat out lie.  My wife was standing next to me as we quickly walked past the woman.  I whispered to my wife, "I didn't mean to lie."  And I didn't.  I more meant that I didn't have any money to contribute to her addiction... an addiction I'm assuming she had since she looked the part and came up to me in a park and asked for money.  I was just sort of scared and didn't know how to react so I just blurted out, "I don't have any money." Again, a lie.

The truth is I don't have any money... money has me.  What gets me it's not even a lot of money.  It's just a little money.  I know all the household things I need to do with that money.  We had ferns and plants to buy.  We had a gas grill to buy so we could cook out for our visiting family.  We have ball games to buy hot dogs at while we watch our sons play.  I couldn't let go of this money to some "crack head". 

Confession #1, money -- little money -- has me...

This lady I just assumed was a crack head.  Probably a good guess, but I don't know that for sure.  I didn't take time to stop and ask her what her addiction is.  I didn't take the time to see what she really wanted, in fact she didn't say anything to me really.  I think she said, "Hey, sir..." where I cut her off with a lie.  What if this lady was an angel (It's more likely she was a crack head, but humor me for a second.)? What if God was giving me some cosmic test that would have catipulted me to Biblical stardome if I'd just taken time to "turn aside and see" what her need really is... okay, she's probably just looking for dope money.  I didn't take my time to find out anything about her though and assuming I'm right and she is a crack addict, was my response any better?  A lie?

Confession #2, prejudice -- I'm prejudice against crack head looking people...

Would giving her a few dollars have mattered either way?  I'll make the argument that enabling her to get drugs, alcohol, whatever wouldn't have done any good for her situation and giving her money would only have staved my guilt and probably further cemented me in my insincere following of Christ.  The lie at an opportune time lurking silently beneath the stained glass veneer of a nominal Christian existence would have slipped a little deeper under the skin for perhaps a more opportune time.

Confession #3, lying -- I'm a liar...

My disgust in the whole situation while walking around the park was aimed at God.  I asked Him, "When are you finally going to save me?"  Everything I feel about my self and see in me says that I'm not really a follower of Christ.  What have I given up for the cross?  How have I bore any cross, really, of His?

The point of this all is not that I didn't give this lady any dollar bills.  Whether I did or didn't really wasn't the point.  All of this other stuff is.  She was just the crack head preacher that pointed out how I don't really follow Christ in any radical way.  I'm safe in my nice neighborhood, at my nice job, with our nice vehicles, in our nice clothes, attending our nice church, in nice weather, eating our nice meals, with our nice-look-like-us friends, typing up our nice blogs, and commenting our nice status updates on Facebook.  Hell will be filled with quaint  niceness; heaven with radical absurdity.

Confession #4, quaint niceness, I'm both...