|
|
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
|
| Conflicted Christianity
In a Discourteous World “Your total will be $75.22. Will you all be paying separately?” With sweating palms I slide the receipt over from the edge of the table and casually glance around the table at many eyes purposely averted toward more entertaining fare. Once again it is my turn, as the assumed Ticket Nazi, to read off every total (carefully calculated to include a slight increase for tax) and explain our less-than-optimal payment situation to the unsuspecting waitress. "Ma’am, we will be paying with nine credit cards, six checks, a money order and a fistful of coins (Do you accept the Euro?).” I purposely leave out the remainder of my thoughts, “After spending three hours at this table ordering and re-ordering soda, water, salad, and chips, we are now going to depart your restaurant in a whirlwind of skirts, perfume, and laughter. We will leave nothing behind save the lingering scent of hairspray, a floor full of straw wrappers, a lip-gloss tube, and a few quarters for tip. Thank you for your kind patience and service. Oh, yes, and we’re Apostolic. There’s a tract on the table. Make sure to stop by for service some time.” As in any large Apostolic youth group, ours spends much time fellowshipping around a restaurant table. Unfortunately, since no saint has offered the use of a house that can comfortably hold 20+ teenagers—or perhaps the adults would prefer to have their homes kid-free on Sunday evenings—we find ourselves at one of a few favorite dining establishments nearly every week. And nearly every week, I find myself placed into the uncomfortable position of vocalizing the necessity of common courtesies. As the affectionately elected spinster aunt (believed to be hugging a casket at a mere 23), the youth view me as a veritable etiquette genie. They have discovered that any monetary deficit will miraculously be covered, any stranded soul will be offered transportation, and any unruly behavior will be quietly overlooked. Consequently, a much smaller group of smug and responsible twentysomethings have taken to dining alone and allowing the herd to manage themselves. I admit to secret delight in the image of a teen ring-leader reading a ticket total and staring blankly at the miniscule stack of bills before him. Or of the girl sulking in the corner at her supposed loss of social status and her dawning realization that the restaurant is now deserted and all of-age drivers with vehicles have long since departed for home. Or of the group discovery that not one solitary soul remembered to ask mom and dad for money, therefore, the entire group must drink water, eat the free dinner rolls, and pass on ordering. Of course, I’m making the enormous assumption that they comprehend the embarrassment of this situation. Now, while I indulge in this fantasy, I actually miss spending time with the pre-College set. I enjoy the free-spirited banter, the eternal optimism, and the carefree flirtation afforded to those without credit card debt or ticking biological clocks. There is an element of bliss and weightless joy among that employment-challenged group difficult to find among my peers. So I struggle to define my roles, swinging wildly between crazed, emotionally frenzied surrogate mother and stuffy, condescending older sibling. Part of my discomfort comes from knowing that our group cannot hide in anonymity. I have seen nothing more disrupting to a group of diners satisfactory munching their dinners than the rush of a flock of girls with giant hair, starched skirts rustling chaotically, mad giggles escaping their lips, followed immediately by a swarm of boys in crumpled suit jackets, loosened ties hanging askew, eyes swollen from a ripping alter call. There is really no mistaking us for a book club. And where we go, our reputation follows. James wrote, “But the wisdom that comes from heaven is first of all pure; then peace-loving, considerate, submissive, full of mercy and good fruit, impartial and sincere,” (James 3:17 NIV). In a world of generally miserable people where road rage is common, foul language excused, violence entertaining, and rudeness a sign of confidence, simple courtesy can be jaw-dropping. Active witnessing (most recognizable by door knocking, bible studies, etc) is admirable and necessary, but witnessing by example is a more powerful and extremely effective tool. Adherence to etiquette and consideration in small things (such as tipping!) can mark an entire group as ‘oddly and indefinably different’ far beyond the outward signs of a dress code. Simple civilized courtesies are so little used that kindness alone is startling, generosity heart stopping. Perhaps there will be a day when I will take the meal check, give the total to a young man for his dinner, and not expect less than the minimum back for both he and his girlfriend. Perhaps there will be a moment when a youth, cognizant of my efforts to drive an hour out of my way to drop him off at his front door, will offer up a kind word of thanks. I cannot, however, expect this of them until my motivations are pure and unselfish. Until I realize that any sacrifices I make should be an offering of worship. Mother Theresa said, “Simple acts of love…keep the light of Christ burning.” If I display the fruits of a correct and submissive attitude, those in my circle of influence will not only notice my efforts, but will begin to imitate and reciprocate them. The light of godly love will be seen even in the ‘downtime’ of social activity. And in that day, I will delight in giving up my role as the grumpy great-aunt and simply enjoy the warmth of being with like-minded Christians of a compassionate, considerate, and kind nature.
ninetyandnine.com © 2002, Stacey Johnson ------- Stacey Johnson works as a travel coordinator for a software development company and continues in her quest to complete her college education. As a dedicated member of her growing congregation, she is involved in as many elements of church life as possible including, but not limited to, janitorial, transportation, and chaperoning services. |
|
|
