It is interesting how themes emerge in our thinking over
periods of time, whether years of pondering a certain topic or days of giving
yourself margin for thoughts. I’ve been
reminded over this past week of break (from both school and routine in general)
of the uniqueness of each person that I pass, whether it is someone unknown or
someone known, someone old or someone young.
We each have a story. We each
have steps that took us to that place at that time. We each have understandings and expectations
and wonderings that uniquely combine to make us, well, us.
As I walked into my building this afternoon after a quick
trip to the grocery store on my way home from fellowship, I found myself
entering at the same time as one of the cleaning ladies for my apartment complex. She’s about half my height (and a slightly
smaller percentage of my weight, but we won’t go there) and I would assume twice
my age, with a smile that gives me an immense desire to speak the same language
and hear her stories. I hustled a bit
ahead of her, not for my usual contest of who gets to push the button first
(because of course I still act six and a half at times), but to open the door
for her. What was supposed to be a kind
gesture turned into a bit of a show down of who was the kindest, with her
insisting that I go and me insisting that she goes and both of us laughing in
the doorway unsure of who would win our little contest. She won.
As I rode up to my 27th floor apartment, my mind
started going a million miles a minute to analyze what just happened. Why does what I see as such a simple act so
often turn into a fun little banter here, and why can’t I approach everything with
that same lightness and joy? Why can’t I
be that person more often, just enjoying the moment and the interactions rather
than focused on the task.
The message this morning at fellowship was on 1 Peter 3:1-7…submission. “Wives submit to your husbands…” Oh how I dreaded what would come. I thought about sitting on my couch instead of going, giving myself a bit of control over the message that I would hear. Maybe that one message on singleness that someone recommended a few weeks ago would be better? Or what about listening to something from my home fellowship for a change? But no, I went and I didn’t attempt to throw my shoe (which is a good sign).
It was a good message overall with great advice for wives
and husbands, I’m sure, but where does that leave me? Can I take this message and apply it to
me? I walked away with three overarching
questions: who should I submit to, how do I (or maybe should I?) model
submission as a single, and what does this mean for the greater body? I don’t have answers…just questions for
now. I think that’s okay, but is it really
just for husbands and wives, or is there more to it?
I’ve heard this passage used as a call to marriage and a set
of instructions for within marriage, but what is the Father trying to teach me
in it? It certainly inspires ideas of more
qualifications to add to my “Mr. Right List”, but is there more? The Mary & Martha passage is easy to
apply…why isn’t this?
And then, as I often try to avoid doing, I started thinking
about my thinking on the topic. I
dreaded todays messages. Dreaded
it. Didn’t want to go, avoid at all
costs, dreaded it. Why? Because I don’t
want to hear advice for others…I want it to apply to me. I want it to fit my needs. I want it to be the lesson I need to hear.
But life isn’t all about me.
The world doesn’t revolve around me.
The message doesn’t have to always fit my needs. Holding the door open
for the cleaning lady doesn’t mean that she’s going to accept it…
…and that’s something to smile about, isn’t it?
Happy Sunday, friends.
