In these moments, I always look around, anxious to share it with someone…anyone. And, I know that even though I was just washing dishes, or driving in my car, or doing laundry, I will never forget the lesson as long as I live. Because God showed up…in the middle of the mundane…the Creator of the Universe spoke to me.
I suppose I woke up with a chip on my shoulder.
I seem to do that sometimes…particularly on Sundays. I suppose those are the days I feel particularly insecure or especially tired…and don’t get enough coffee.
But, after church, I was giving my dad & brother a ride home. And, you know, it just doesn’t matter how old you get, when you’re driving and your father, the man who taught you how to drive, is in the passenger seat, I suppose you should just embrace the criticism. It’s going to come.
“Kelly, you really ought to slow down.”
DAD, I KNOW HOW TO DRIVE.
“Kelly, you need to ease into the brakes.”
SERIOUSLY, WHAT DO YOU THINK I DO WHEN YOU’RE NOT IN THE CAR?
“Kelly, you really shouldn’t take that curve so quickly.”
DAD, IT’S FINE…IT’S JUST HOW I DRIVE.
I didn’t embrace it. It made me mad.
I don’t handle criticism very well.
So, I did what every good Christian girl ought to do driving home from church (where the sermon was on unity in the body, by the way) – I blew up. Of course, I waited to do this until we were almost in the driveway, so that I could rush inside & promptly and maturely turn on the silent treatment.
Oh, I was keeping it up pretty good. Responding to questions of “what do you want for lunch?” with a mumbled “I’m not hungry.” Door slammed shut.
Okay, really, not my finest moment.
It was then that my dad knocked on my door – and I will spare the details. But, we had it out. It wasn’t pretty. This was about more than the car ride home.
As he turned to leave, I, furiously angry, looked at him…really looked at him for the first time in a long time.
And I softened at what I saw.
Tired.
Lines around his eyes that didn’t use to be there.
Sad.
My grandfather, his closest friend, no longer here to look after.
Beaten down.
In need of encouragement, not my angry words.
And I cried at my selfishness.
And, God said – “I don’t care how you feel. Get up and serve your father.”
And so I did.
We had a real spread for lunch on Sunday…and I did the dishes. And cleaned the house.
Because love is patient, love is kind…it is not rude or self-seeking. It is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.
Love is not a feeling, love is action.
Love is service.
I would tell you that I "love" my dad, but if I am honest, I rarely serve him. By God's definition, how can you say that you love someone that you do not serve? By God's definition, those you do not serve, you do not truly love.
By God's definition, this girl needs a whole lot of work in this department.
And, so, in the middle of a mundane Sunday afternoon, God showed up - convicting me with the reality of my own selfishness, my own pride, and the hypocrisy of my claims of who I love.
Sometimes, the clearest lesson are found in the mundane.
Are you listening?
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