Sitting alone at a restaurant causes a mind to wander.
I don’t know why it brought me to tweet this, but when I
wrote it I was thinking of Jesus and his fellowship with those the
world wouldn’t touch—just how it was that Jesus could walk between those of
high regard and those of low regard (and no regard). And not just how he walked, but how
he sat with them. Sitting is
intentional. You can’t mistake
sitting. Walking, you may just be headed
in the same direction, passing by, experiencing just a moment together. But sitting?
You plan intimacy, some quality time to be spent.
And it was about fifteen minutes after this thought, this tweet, that I was waiting alone at a table for six, and he asked if he could sit. Not attracted to him, I inwardly sighed, and
though I really didn’t have much say in the matter, I obliged, my hand raised,
offering the seat across from me.
He was aged, maybe
on the brink of forty. My glee was nonexistent and disappointment great. And every bad thought, every bad judgment I
could surmise came to mind.
The Holy Spirit slapped his forehead and pushed my critical
thoughts away with the image of what I had just tweeted, as if to say, “Then
what was all this?” Before the man had even
said a word, I had checked out. Mentally,
I had not only risen from the table, I had run out the door.
Now, here is the thing, I am by no means urging any woman
to indulge the desire for attention or opportunity in a man—especially if he’s
very much your senior. If you don’t hear
God calling you to stay, don’t. But do pay attention to your
circumstances. My situation was that a
man was sitting across from me, but the circumstances of the situation were: I
said something and God immediately tested me.
And sometimes you have that feeling—when in any other
situation you’d be crazy to acquiesce, but I’d like to think I’ve learned by
now when you have a chance to pass a test given by the hand of God—you try and pass
it.
I heard God say, “You said you respect men who just walk
up—well, this guy walked right up. I put
him at your table. And because I put him
at your table, you are safe. Don’t
assume anything. Nothing is being asked
of you. Just sit, resist the urge to
recoil, and lay down your judgments.”
So, I took a breath, and smiled the smile I smile at old
friends. I listened to him talk about
the beach and vacation, and agreed that as we age it becomes more difficult to
plan vacations with friends on the same schedule and different paydays.
Some minutes passed, and he rose from the table before my
friends entered the restaurant. He held
out his hand and introduced himself and walked away.
I know God knows me, but in moments like this I feel like
I am completely naked—that He can see right into my soul and into how ugly,
superficial, and judgmental I can be. Is
the cost of me so great in having a conversation with someone? We feel so spent in our daily jobs, from past or life experiences, that we can’t afford the small bit of patience it takes to connect
with people outside our inner circles?
We ignore God’s call to love, because we presume love is a deep action,
and we don’t have the energy for deep.
What we fail to realize is that love is as simple as a simple
conversation.
How saddened I am by my own inability and desire to be in
relationship with the world—that my space and my time feels threatened by the
presence of another. How encouraged I am
that Jesus was not one to turn away.
Be challenged by God.
Be eager to be sanctified. Be sad
by what is lacked in character, but only enough so that it pushes you to be
less like yourself and more like the God who yearns to reunite with His beloved
child who fought like Hell to live like Jesus.
