What's Your Story

41 "Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother's eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye? 42 How can you say to your brother, 'Brother, let me take the speck out of your eye,' when you yourself fail to see the plank in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother's eye.” -  Luke 6:41-42 (NIV)

   
45 "He will reply, 'I tell you the truth, whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me.'” - Matt 25:45 (NIV)


This song really needs no in-depth elaboration, because, in most ways, it is what it is --- a “story song.”  It obviously speaks for itself.  How it came to be is another matter entirely…
     My wife, Sheri, and I were on our 4th wedding anniversary in Chicago.  Very cool.  We both love Chicago.  I remember having to stay in the DePaul area because it was so much more affordable for us at the time.  In keeping with our budget we also opted to purchase a couple of Metro passes for the week, which would enable us to take a bus into the heart of Michigan Avenue whenever we wanted.  It was on one of these bus rides during our third night that we experienced this song.

Not only was it the last thing on our radar, but just the shear, bizarre randomness of a guy suddenly hopping on board, sporting a four foot cross, white robe, greasy hair and a pair of beat-up Nikes wasn’t even on our reality charts.  What made it even more surreal were the reactions from everyone else on the bus --- or should I say, the lack of reactions from everyone else.  From the moment he mounted the stairs, no one flinched.  Even as he plopped down on a bench in front of us, just 2 feet opposite a middle-aged lesbian couple, and whipped out his “waving” beads, complete with an indecipherable, in-their-face prayer, the couple kept an unbroken stare out of the window behind him.  It was almost as if they didn’t even notice him, as if they were staring through him.  Even more disturbing was how no one on the entire bus seemed to notice him at all.
 
Sheri and I suddenly stared at each other with the same revelation --- could it be possible that we were the only ones seeing this guy?  Nah…crazy thought.  And, besides, who was this obvious nut-case anyway.  Who did he think he was “impersonating” the One he presumably knew nothing about; at least, the Jesus I knew…or did I.

No matter how hard I tried not to, I perpetually caught myself staring at his reflection in the window, with every thought going deeper.  I was jolted back to the present when the bus screeched to a stop three corners later.  This was his stop.  And still, even as he stood up, grabbed his cross, and got off, no one acknowledged his existence in the least.  I, however, couldn’t take my eyes off of him.  Something deep in my “knower” sensed an unexpected, defining moment taking place.  It wasn’t until he turned around and stared at me with the cross over his shoulder that I began to understand.  You know those times when you were a kid, riding in a car; when somehow, with no apparent reason, after being fixed on the scenery whizzing by, your depth-of-field suddenly changed and your perception no longer had you staring out of the window, but at close-up reflection of yourself?  That’s what happened to me when I watched him walk away, alone.  Conviction grabbed me by the throat.  How could I so quickly have sized a man down to my controlled level --- a man in whom I knew absolutely nothing about?  With all of my stuff?  And yet, I’m no different than any of you.  We all, at one point or another, tend to limit ourselves with boxed-in perspectives that blind us from being sensitive to the “unlikely’s”, or the bizarro’s; from being “instant in season and out of season”.
 
I found out that night just how far away I really was from living in a “state of grace”; the state that would enable me to react with respect toward those that Jesus said were essentially Himself.  What would happen if you were the one on the target side of scrutiny?  What would be your story?...or would you even be able to tell it?