In Transit

I’m more than a bit heated right now - and it’s all because of you, couple sitting five rows in front of me on this Southwest flight from Chicago to Houston. You did it to me. I wonder if you feel any of the fire that comes from the swift clicks of my keyboard as I type. Make no mistake, my computer would not even be turned on, nor my tray table down right now if it wasn’t for you. What can I say? You’ve inspired me. When you eagerly pushed ahead of me in line to board, flaunting your priority pass, you had no care that I and those with me were supposed to take our seats first. You see, I and my people are wronged here. We were long delayed on our first leg of our flight from Louisville to Houston. We were forced to change planes at the last second in the Windy City and promised that we would have first dibs on new seats without requiring any boarding passes. You heard the story and yet, you shoved me aside. I hope it hurts you that I’m sitting back here, slumming it in row six, directing my anger right at the back of your oversized gray heads.

I’m supposed to be reading a book on being a cross-cultural servant in the local church, but how can I read in a time of such great injustice?

I think those may be among the most absurd paragraphs I have ever written. It felt good though - and for all the wrong reasons. This is what I do with my anger. I let it stop me from the task at hand, change my focus and distract me from the real goal here. (In this case, studying for a seminary class.) In these fleeting moments of feeble fuming, anger wins. I lose.

There is a reason we are told not to let the sun go down on our anger. Even the smallest drop can grow into the most deadly of poisons. Anger is a drink I have enjoyed too much of in my past. I know the feel of it on my lips, the taste of it on the tongue and the agony of it once swallowed. It is both enticing and intoxicating and I want no more of it.

So much of my past is rooted in the enjoyment of anger. In the face of injustice, I have found great power in responding in anger. It built me up for a short burst of dominating power and left me begging in the streets for another taste, another hit, of pure, raw rage. I hated the person it made me.

I’m different now. Changed. New. This is part of my story of redemption. This need to act on anger, this desire to respond with harsh words or harsher actions was taken from me. Or maybe I gave it away. Or maybe both. Oh, I still have my moments, like minutes ago when my face grew red over thoughts of walking up the isle and informing this couple of how great I felt their offense. As much fun as that would be for a few seconds, I now know just how long that expression of anger would reside inside me. I can see the warning signs of self-destruction brought on by giving in to these feelings. Why would I ever want to proceed down that path again?

Instead, I must be quick to forgive, but even more importantly, quick to love in the place of anger. So then, oh gray-haired passengers of privilege, how do I love thee? Not at all. I don’t. I can’t - at least not on my own. I’ve often found directing love toward former recipients of anger an impossible task. And so, I pray.

I firmly believe that when Jesus commands us to pray for our enemies, his desire is for us to primarily pray for the ability to love them. There is no greater anti-venom than asking for God’s help to love someone who has seemed unlovable.

So, Father, help me in this moment to find love for these two members of your most prized creation. Help me to stand in awe of your image, present in the ones who enjoy the legroom in the first row. Remind me of how great your love is for them, and even me.

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This is not remotely how I planned to start this blog. I have a list of topics that I want to explore and intend to in the upcoming weeks. I can’t think of a better way to get going though than with a bit of reality. This is me. I get angry when people push me. I want to push back. By the grace of God, this is not my instinct anymore. I am being changed mid-flight. I am in transit.