I yell at people when I’m driving, icognito of course because I know how quickly things can escalate, and it used to be much worse, but if a fellow commuter does something stupid or irritating, I’ll give them a piece of my mind, and keep it to myself.
For example, in Denver proper, some are super nice at 4-way stops signs. Even if they get there before I do, and have the right of way, they’ll wait and let me go. But I’m never sure if they’re actually going to wait, or why they’re waiting, and not all people wait, so, when I get to a stop sign it takes an extra few seconds to figure out what’s going on. Drives me crazy. For all that is holy, just roll through if you get there before I do, that way I know exactly what’s happening and don’t have to waste those extra 4 seconds.
To the super nice guy who waves me through after we sit there for a bit, I hope you didn’t see me yell at you, and you’re killing me.
To the reader, you have to cut me some slack. We live in the city and my daily drive to three different schools every AM and afternoon calls for an hour of navigating downtown traffic, and people do stupid things during rush hour.
When my morning drive is done, I’m harboring no significant goodwill towards humanity, even though I drive with precise adherence to every traffic commandment conceivable.
Add our recent COVID pandemic, where a big chunk of America cried “hoax,” ignored advice from the majority of qualified medical experts, ran around maskless, played the victim every time the government tried to step in, injected themselves with horse medicine, etc.
Also add a similar group who stormed the Capitol because a politician who knew an election wasn’t rigged told them an election was rigged. Many still believe him.
Finally, add the internet, constantly capturing humanity’s worst moments and serving them up (because my prior browsing history suggests that I like it) and you can understand my dilemna.
I could list hundreds of reasons why I’ve come to struggle over the past 10 years or so, but I’ll spare you. Suffice it to say that I frequently judge people who do dumb things.
In that, it’s gotten difficult for me to have a good attitude about us.
I wasn’t always this way. Years ago, I joined a small-town suburban church in Texarkana, Texas; new to the whole church thing and convinced without reservation that its congregants were inherently good. They were committed to their community, much more knowledgeable about the bible than I was, and lived what seemed to be a respectable life. I felt like they were above me; further along in their journey of becoming a better human.
I felt that way about anybody who embraced a similar view of God and church.
It’s interesting to note the impact that a pro-people view had on my overall view of the world. In general, when people seemed good, my world seemed good and I harbored some hope that it would deliver good things to my doorstep – its light and beauty not so intermittent. Conversly, as I’ve grown in my struggle to see the good in people, my view of the world, overall, has become a little darker, a little more hopeless.
It seems that my attitude about people is tied to my attitude about the world, and to my relationship with hope.
In time, I learned that good Christian folk are just as broken as everyone else, and worthy of my judgments. In 10 short years, I transitioned from believing that my Christian brothers and sisters were “good,” to marginalizing them, placing them “below” or “behind” me whenever they’d screw up. To be sure, there’s plenty to judge: racism, homophobia, Christian nationalism, et-al. And wayward Christians aren’t the only people on my naughty list. Never mind that Jesus condemned all manner of judging (in his view, as I read it, nobody is above anyone else, or by proxy, below), gorging myself on the worst in people has become a staple of everyday life.
Today, I can’t get through an hour without feeling disappointed, let down, jilted, cheated, and in general holier-than-whoever. My mid-50’s mind has travelled far from the peace of its small-town days, now the Mos Eisley space port of badwill towards men, driving an equally negative view of my world.
As I consider this new year, thinking about whatever I might embrace and/or jettison to make it better than the last one, this particular issue seems to be standing defiantly between current me and the me I’m trying to become. It’s also made me grumpy, and might be one of the biggest impediments to happiness in my arsenal.
Unfortunately, whenever we invite negative perspectives about people into our psyche, they’re difficult to get rid of. It’ll take a bit more than the decision to stop entertaining negative thoughts.
It will most likely require a(nother) miracle.
I’ll finish this post with a short unpacking of why I’ll be expecting just that.
Scripture tells the story of a God who doesn’t mess around; he has rules and requirements and meets their infractions with swift (sometimes unthinkable) punishment. Us Christians love to use that part of the story as an invitation to jackassery. Many of us have made that a central part of our belief system.
But in the second half of the story, God makes a way to keep all of his statutes in play while, at the same time, acting as if the people who can’t stop breaking them have never broken them. Having gotten the rules out of the way without getting rid of them, he loves all unconditionally, seeing far beyond our failures and frailties.
If you’re unfamiliar with the unified story that the Jewish and Christian scriptures tell, check out the video below. It’s a great summary of how the two come together, inviting us into, ultimately, a greater truth about ourselves.
Sure, all of that might be a fairy tale, or it might be too far from our reality to sound legitimate. Either way, it raises a compelling question: are we defined by our mistakes, or by something else? And why is it that our mistakes carry all of the authority when others size us up?
If I can manage to see past everyone’s perpetrations, as God does, what will I see?
I want to go back to that place where, most of the time, people seemed good to me. That world was better than the one I’m living in now. And while it will take a miracle to get back there, I’m confident that God will deliver.
