Expectation will distract you into over-thinking, which paralyzes you.
One day, an ant asked a centipede how he always knew which leg he had to move next. The centipede, perplexed by the question, responded, "Oh...I don't know. I just always did it." Afterward, the centipede began thinking so hard about the question, he couldn't walk anymore.
This was a little fable included in Wiersbe's book (On Being a Servant of God, in case you forgot) that gave me pause. I am that centipede. And that makes me squirm, because I hate centipedes.
When I was a kid, I thought the only thing you could die from was old age. I was watching the news at my babysitter's house; I liked to play "grown up," thinking all grown ups carried briefcases and watched the news, and that was the extent of their day. That night, one of the top stories was a shooting that happened in Green Bay, and a child died having stumbled into it. In my five year old world, the only violence I understood was the acrobatics the Power Rangers used, or what gravity inflicts when tree climbing. "Kimmy...the news is lying. Kids don't die. It's not their time yet."
Her face went grim. "Ashley, honey, unfortunately kids do die sometimes. Bad people do bad things. That man shot those people." I frowned hard at this. "But that's dumb. People shouldn't shoot people." And then Kimmy said something that may have been too difficult for a five year old to reason with. "Well, he was a very angry man. But sometimes people have to do it for protection. Your dad's a cop, and he has to shoot people sometimes."
The a lens on my rose-colored glasses cracked. Daddy shoots people but he protects people but why do other people have to get shot to protect those people because sometimes people make mistakes and maybe if you just put them in a time out they won't do it again but does daddy need to go in a time out for doing his job?
My mind was reeling with this new understanding (or lack thereof). It wasn't fair, in any sense, and I refused to change my mind. I started getting angry when the news was on because I didn't want to have to see more death. The majority of men in my family have served in the armed forces, and I suddenly couldn't trust them. "What would you do," challenged by dad and my grandfather over dinner one night, "if someone was going to stab you to death, but you had a gun. And you could shoot them and get away safely?" I shook my head rapidly (I was around eight at this point), "No. I can't. They're still a person. I don't know why they were going to stab me." They began listing off a few things that could happen, but I couldn't let myself budge. "No. Not fair. I can't. They might change."
Of course, as aging occurs, you become more jaded and frustrated. Thing's aren't so black and white. Lately, though, I feel like being at seminary is forcing me to "re-grow up," almost as if my childhood didn't cover basic understandings of life. Well, except sex. Being in the U.S., I could have been born blind and deaf and still known what sex was.
Through all this re-growth, I am still head butting the same issue: anger and violence. I feel like my understanding of things always fails to penetrate those concepts. I'm meeting people who won't hunt, because it's "violent to the Earth," and feel it is a step back from the stewardship we are called as Christians to do. Conversely, I also go to class with an ex-Marine, who is very much into justice and protection. Heck, Allen just inherited all of his dad's guns (which still make me jump when they make that sharp clacky sound when he opens and closes them, whatever that's called) and wants to teach me how to shoot.
When I was a kid, all I wanted to do was love people and be friends with everyone. I also wanted to be a detective, but that was just because I really liked puzzles, not necessarily for the Dick Tracy-esque action attached. Then, however, I expected everyone to reciprocate. I conducted myself in a particular way to emote a preconceived response. I was kid, my understanding didn't go any deeper. But now that's the trouble. I know that I should love unconditionally and act accordingly regardless of that, but I still want people to do exactly what I expect them to. When they don't, I become increasingly frustrated.
This week I've been realizing that I have no problem loving people I don't know. It's the people I have relationships with that I have the hardest time serving. If figure that, because they know me, or should, at least, than they should know how to treat me. Especially if I know them to be Christians. It's almost like there are levels to my expectation: the more you claim, the more I expect. But I'm beginning to think that grace cannot function where earthly expectation dwells. And that really bites, because essentially this means I am not as graceful of a person as I thought I was.
Where do you see God working?
In my head, sorting my thoughts.
What do you hear God saying?
"Thank you for making time this morning. Let's do it again. Soon."
How do you see God working?
Calmingly feeding me understanding, bit by bit.
