Made for more . . .

Turns out, I have an infinite capacity to be a dink! No, no - it's true. Really it is. 

Seriously, have you ever watched yourself do life - only to be really disappointed with how much of a dink you can really be? I mean, you know you should be better. You know you can be better. You even observe yourself in the moment knowing full well that the next words or actions that are going to come from you are, in fact, ridiculous and stupid. And yet, you persist. You speak. You act. And then, you regret it (and feel compelled to blog about it)

Yep, that was my day, - or at least part of it. I was in a conversation today with an old friend and colleague today over lunch. Sadly, I was argumentative, judgmental and more than a bit off-putting - and all of that was before we had even ordered our meal!

Why? I mean, I know that there have been some really great things that I have learned from God in the past few years. I have learned that it's way better to encourage others than recklessly criticize. I have learned that it is really better to applaud efforts that others are making - as opposed to make being critical of them simply out of sport. And yet, in both cases I dropped the ball, lapsing into a discouraging diatribe of oppositional thinking and conversation - all the while being sure to thinly veil it in ways that make me appear smarter than I really am, thereby affording me at least the appearance of being smart. And, all the while I was simply being a dink.

Part of the reason for writing about this is because I think that this might happen to more than just me. If not - that's fine too. I simply think that I needed to acknowledge it - and deal with how disappointing we can be to our own selves. Sometimes I am frustrated at how easily I slip into patterns of conversation and thought that I really had convinced myself were a part of my past - that God had actually healed me of some of these things. And then, I go and prove that I am still not as far down the road of sanctification and good leadership that I thought I was. 

More than the disappointment, however, I think I also realized something else. In these moments - and hundreds of others that happen to all of us every day - we have the chance to treat others in (at least) one of two ways: a) as the person they have been in our lives in the past; or, b) as the person God imagines/ longs for and is making them to be. 

I find it soooooo easy to treat people as they have been in my life. When I do this I intuitively chart out the sum total of my interactions with them in the past, assigning a series of check and minuses based on what they have said, done, etc., in relationship to myself. The end result is that all of this history serves a a predeterminer of the script  and dialogue that I will have with them in the future. Sometimes the script has been great in the past - and lunch goes well. Other times, not so much.

Last week someone challenged me to think/ act differently with people. What I mean is this: I was challenged to treat everyone I meet/ talk to/ live with/ go to church with/ work with/ am neighbours with/ etc., etc., (you get the picture) as the person God would have them be as a new creation in Christ Jesus. This means that I refuse to treat them as the sum of my interactions with them - but honour them as people in the imagine of God. It means that rather than acting out of pride, hard heartedness, born out of my past interactions with them, that I would treat others with a humility that sees God's work in them and cooperates with it; with a encouraging spirit that tries to fuel the work of God in them; and with a Kingdom vision that understands that both of us are people for whom God has great plans. 

So, swing and a miss on a number of accounts today at lunch. 

However, there are dozens of people on my horizon in the rest of this week that will give me a chance to try again. My prayer this week? That God will show me how I can - in each conversation and interaction - cooperate with what God is trying to do in the lives of people with whom I interact.  

I know - it sounds simple. But, the truth is I am sick and tired of being a dink. . . .