Between the Lines

Sunday morning about 6:15. I had run to the Harris Teeter to pick something up and was returning to the car. I'd been able to park near the door but not to pull through, because in this part of the lot, on one side the parking slots are straight and their opposite-number parking slots are angled. It takes a tiny bit of finesse to pull in a straight-on slot and through to an angled slot. 

Normally, I can do that without much trouble. But it happened that this was the second or third time in recent weeks I'd found myself doing a quick Sunday-morning one-item shopping trip, and the second or third time I'd observed a large white pickup truck parked sloppily in a space. This morning, it meant that if I wanted to pull through, I'd have to park a few spaces farther from the door. 

Clucking with irritation, I just parked - without pulling through - and observed to myself (as I had on previous visits) that I wished that people who drove those big pickup trucks were more meticulous about parking. The responsibility was on these drivers to be good stewards of parking slots... wasn't it? Just the other day, maybe even yesterday, I'd been having a conversation with a dear one about the reflexive tendency toward judgment, and how Jesus advises us against it because our judgment redounds on us, yet Saint Paul admits, "The very things I wish to do, I do not do." (Doo-be-doo-be-doo ... Frank Sinatra.)

And also yesterday, because I'd signed up for it, I had read an email from someone who writes on leadership and faith, pointing out that as reflexively as any of us judges (the writer including himself), the way of Jesus points toward restorative justice rather than retributive justice - validating a homiletical position for me.

So... what happened in the parking lot? I vaguely noticed a woman in a work uniform using the self-checkout to buy and bag groceries, a couple of plastic bags' worth. I judged again - not the customer, this time, but my recurring irritation at supermarket chains for using self-checkout as an excuse for convenience that takes away jobs. 

The woman and I left the store about the same time. She was the one getting into the sloppily parked truck. She was moving tiredly ... like someone who had just finished a shift at a physical job, one of manual labor. Something in me reminded me, as I got into my car and prepared (sigh) to back out (because I didn't pull through when I parked, remember?), that here was Christ standing before me in the person of a weary and worn worker about my age.

I pulled back in to the parking space, got out, and approached. She was on her guard, as who wouldn't be, seeing someone start to leave, then park and go up to someone?

Palms out, friendly, I asked if she needed help. Her body relaxed and a tired smile appeared. Sure enough, she was just getting off work, and everything was stiff and ready to go home, but she needed to do the shopping before going to bed. The bed of the truck held work-related stuff.

I sympathized and wished her a good night. She said, automatically, "You too," before correcting it to, "Have a good day." Then we got into our cars/trucks and went our separate ways.

Maybe I was alert to seeing Christ in others because that's my vocation. Maybe I've had lots of training and practice on watching my reflexive judgments. Some of it, I can tell you, is because of an intentional discipline, which has been defined as "a long obedience in the same direction."** But I think a lot of it was because I'd just read that email and had that reflective conversation.
*See Matthew 7:1, also Romans 7:15-20.

 **In searching for the provenance of the term "a long obedience in the same direction," the title of a book by Dr. Eugene Peterson, creator of The Message paraphrase of the Bible, I found Adam Setser's blog post. Read the entry on Nietzsche and Peterson here.