I found myself in the middle of an impromptu social experiment the other day while riding a free shuttle bus between the conference center where I was attending a training session and my hotel. It was about 8:30pm and, after stepping onto the bus, I worked my way to the bench seat in the back because one of my favorite past times is people-watching and everyone knows that the back seat is the best seat for that!
The shuttle’s route took us through the downtown core, and the fifteen or so passengers included a mixture of conference attendees, business folks obviously finishing a long day, and a tourist or two. We were at the second stop of twelve when a passenger came aboard who was obviously – as my grandmother would say – a “Weeble,” because he was wobbling, but not falling down.[1] Grasping the first pole as the door closed behind him – lending an almost dramatic effect to his entrance – the gentleman looked down and began working to make eye contact with the two people sitting in the first seat and, from what I could determine, they were working equally hard to avoid it.
As the bus pulled away toward its next stop, this newest rider pointed at the young man on the aisle and, in a loud enough voice so that all could hear — but not in a threatening manner –declared “You’re in!”
As those of us were letting this declaration sink in, he pointed at an older gentleman sitting by the window and stated, “You’re in too!” Then, he reached for the next pole, wobbled – but didn’t fall – and grabbed hold of it, bringing him in line with the next set of seats and three other passengers, whose amateurish efforts to avoid eye contact were unsuccessful. Tourists! What do you expect?
He briefly assessed each person, then pointed at a middle-aged woman in a smart business suit. With a tinge of sadness he shared, “You’re not in” and appeared to briefly pause in reverence of the disappointing moment. Then turned his gaze to her seat mate, a younger woman who appeared to be coming from an exercise class, smiled and announced “But you’re in!”
Then turning to an older gentleman seated across the aisle, the Weeble’s demeanor became sad again as he slowly took in the gentleman’s appearance. Along with his loosened tie, the man had a conference badge hanging outside his shirt with the name “Andy” blazoned in bold letters. After the short inspection, and with some reluctance, Andy learned that he “…was not in.” I should note that this frustrated me a bit because there was no reason given. Was it Andy’s disheveled attire? We may never know!
As he reached for the next pole and began maneuvering to the next set of seats, you could sense people beginning to relax a bit as they realized that, while a bit off-putting, this Weeble was more of a potential annoyance, not a threat.
Only one person happened to be occupying the next row of seats, an elderly woman to whom he pointed and declared, “You’re in.” Amazingly, the woman graciously smiled and said, “Thank you” introducing an interactive element to this rolling social experiment. This noticeably pleased the Weeble, and he reached for the next pole, almost missing it as the bus lurched slightly. But in a surprising display of agility – despite his liquid-induced joyful disposition – he grabbed the next pole and managed to stabilize himself.
At this point, my perch for people-watching really paid off because, from my back-of-the-bus vantage point, I could see the remaining handful of passengers seated in front of me.
Astonishingly, I noticed most of them beginning to sit a little straighter in their seats and, despite two of the next three being declared “not in,” they all willingly – if not eagerly – made eye contact, awaited the verdict, and reacted with disappointment or relief accordingly! One passenger even straightened his tie just before the Weeble arrived at his seat and was downright sheepish as passengers congratulated him after being pronounced “in!”
To be clear, none of us had a clue what exactly “in” meant, but to whatever club this inebriated individual was inviting us, everyone on board wanted an all-access pass!
I watched him declare three more people “in” and two unfortunate people “not in,” before he finally reached my seat, the last one on the bus. In retrospect, this was one of those surreal moments when it seemed that time slowed down. I stole a glance past the Weeble and noted that most of the passengers had turned in their seats to watch – because who’d want to miss the final moment, right? I mean, only serial killers would watch The Masked Singer every week and turn it off just as they take off their mask, right?
I don’t know what came over me, but just as the man was about to declare my fate, I held up my hand and, in a louder-than-intended voice said, “I think you should know something!”
My voice surprised both him and the other passengers, but I was committed. Those who know me will be surprised by what I said next because it’s not a typical response for me, but capitalizing on the brief pause that my mini outburst provided, I said, “I already know I’m ‘in’ and, I checked with God, and he told me everyone on this bus is ‘in’ too!”
A lot happened in the next three or four seconds, even though it felt like a full minute or two. I have this mental image of an old Western movie, you know when the camera zooms in on the eyes of each gunfighter as the whole town holds their collective breath, waiting to see what’s going to happen. I even think heard the theme music from “The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly” playing in the background!
The man and I stood, locked in a gaze, watching one another for a tell , a slight movement, a giveaway if you will that would indicate what was to happen. Then — almost imperceptibly at first — I saw the corners of his eyes begin to smile and then, he took a step back, let out a robust laugh and proclaimed, “You. Are. RIGHT!”
Then, in what still feels like a surreal moment, the passengers began to clap and cheer at the surprise ending. It felt like an “Oprah moment” as everyone realized they would be getting off at their stops with their very own membership to the still-undetermined club of the drunk guy on the shuttle bus!
All of us humans have a deep, deep need to belong; to be included, to be part of something. Paradoxically we also carry an unarticulated sense of dread that we may end up alone, forgotten and lonely; that we may one day look up and find ourselves apart from others. Regardless of the complexities, biases, difficulties and pain that come from being in relationship, especially with those who are not like us, no one wants to be left out – even if it means silently calling out “Choose me, drunk guy!” to be a part of whatever club was being formed that evening on the shuttle bus of strangers heading home after a long day.
The God we serve, the Christ we follow, the Spirit to which we seek to yield works toward one thing: to restore shalom and make the world once again the way God always intended it to be.
Anything less, is working against God and against Christ. Or to phrase it more directly, anything less is anti-God, anti-Christ and anti-restoration through complicity, or worse. The God I know will go infinitely further than we would ever dream or imagine when restoring relationships on the way to restoring shalom.
I confess that I am still trying to figure out the collective statement that the majority US citizens just made this past election — especially those that purport to have a faith in God and want to live a life like Jesus. Disappointingly, if I’m honest, I probably will never fully know or understand it.
That said, my faith in God remains unshaken even as my trust in those who call themselves the Church has been shaken to the core. Even as the ground feels as if it is violently shifting underneath me, I know the following truths remain, regardless of how the future unfolds:
If ones faith or faith community, overtly or subtly, seeks to identify who is “out” versus starting with the assumption that all are “in,” it is working against shalom, the way God intended it to be.
If ones faith or faith community, overtly or subtly, operates from a paradigm that inextricably blends the vitality of one’s faith with patriotism for one’s country, it is working against shalom, the way God intended it to be.
If ones faith or faith community, overtly or subtly, cites the authority of scripture but minimizes those passages that make painful demands, while simultaneously elevating those passages that console and assuage ones feelings, it is working against shalom, the way God intended it to be.
If ones faith or faith community, overtly or subtly, sees and paints the world as innately bad and evil, while simultaneously highlighting the faithful’s “temporary status,” assuring them they will be whisked away at a future, appointed time, it is working against shalom, the way God intended it to be.
If ones faith or faith community, overtly or subtly, gives you permission to ignore by silence brothers and sisters who demean, degrade, mock, belittle, bully, gaslight and/or justify any action or deed, individual or collective, that is contrary to the heart, compassion, spirit and dignity extended to all by Jesus Christ, it is working against shalom, the way God intended it to be.
If ones faith or faith community, overtly or subtly, sees certain statements of the bible as permanent injunctions for all time, but sees Jesus’ command to love enemies, care for the poor, welcome the refugee or view the Sermon on the Mount as being so strangely “full of nuance” that it never seems to apply, it is working against shalom, the way God intended it to be.
If ones faith or faith community, overtly or subtly, remains silent as segments of people are vilified or dehumanized, ignores and therefore condones misogyny, looks away when one race declares their superiority over another and invokes the bible or God as justification, it is working against shalom, the way God intended it to be.
Now, lest I be accused of casting a stone, let me be clear: the uncomfortable perspectives I’ve shared here come from the uncomfortable awareness that I am the one who calls out “Choose me, drunk guy!” because, more often than not, I am more fearful of being apart from people and popularity than apart from the presence of God.
The truth of these words that I have written is deeply personal because they rip back the curtain of unwanted self-awareness to reveal that I am Israel[2], because I struggle with God every minute of every day.
They come from the uncomfortable and unwanted self-awareness that I am the one whose first impulse is to remain quiet when I see wrong being committed.
They come from the uncomfortable and unwanted self-awareness that I am the one who betrays the relationship even as God is working to restore it.
They come from the uncomfortable and unwanted self-awareness that I, with tearful fear and shame, look up into the face and eyes of Jesus who, out of abundant mercy, grace, and love, moves shalom a glacial step closer to me by saying, “Then neither do I condemn you.”
They come from the uncomfortable and unwanted self-awareness that the God we serve, the Christ we follow, the Spirit to which we seek to yield seeks one thing: to restore shalom and make our world, once again, the way God always intended it to be.
They come from the uncomfortable and unwanted self-awareness that, if I am to truly reflect the heart of Jesus and serve the most vulnerable and poor, then I must give up trying to hold cultural power through politics and accept that, in pursuit of a deepening relationship with Jesus, it may cost me more than I imagined – and I may even feel taken advantage of.
Though I don’t garden, I am sure of this, those who work in gardens get dirty, their muscles get sore, and they wonder if it’s all going to be worth it. But then they remember what the garden will look like when it’s in full, healthy bloom, and they bend low to pick another weed, rake another row, and till the soil as sweat drips from their brow.
We know what the garden looks like, and we know that God is working to restore this garden to the way it was always intended to be.
So, whatever this next season holds, I for one intend to get my hands dirty, work until my muscles are sore and feet are tired. I also know that, in the midst, I will often wonder if it is worth it while simultaneously knowing that it is.
[1] Google “What is a weeble?” for context. You’re welcome.
[2] Definition of Israel: “One who struggles with G-d”