Baby Bird

NBC could've made a sitcom out of my first year in Massachusetts. A southern girl in the heart of Yankee North country gave my husband more than a few laughs. I didn't understand a word my father in law said for months (he's from Dorcester and doesn't know that "r" is not suppose to be silent). The pizza guy at Faniel Hall thought I was mentally damaged because I tried to have a conversation with him over the menu, instead of just barking out my order. And people everywhere looked perplexed when I would smile and say "thank you." The cultural differences were significant and it took me a while to blend. I'm proud to say that I can now drop my "r's" like I'm from Southie; but I still speak slowly, I always feel compelled to smile at everybody, and "ya'll" is a permanent part of my vocabulary.

The first few months I was in town I decided to get a job at the local YMCA. I was a thousand miles from home and had no friends outside my husband's family. The two best places to remedy that were the Y and church. I got a part time job at the front desk where I got to talk to customers all day, which was perfect for me since my childhood nickname was "motor mouth." True to my southern roots I looked people in the eye when they spoke to me, smiled like an idiot all the time and threw in a "well bless your heart," every now and then without even noticing.

One day, a few months after working there, a woman came up to the front desk and complained to my boss that I had been rude to her (which for a southern girl is treason! Insincerity is tolerable, but rudeness - never!). My boss pressed the woman for details and then quietly replied with great conviction, "Rebekah would never do that," and dismissed the complaint immediately.

I was touched, and quite frankly amazed, that she was sure of my character in this matter. She was so convinced I was innocent (which by the way, I was) that she didn't even ask for my side of the story before making up her mind. Her confidence made me feel great, and perplexed. It felt great because I was innocent of the charges, but perplexing because she seemed so confident - not simply that I didn't act rudely, but that I wouldn't. To my overactive mind, there is a big difference.

That little incident got me thinking. She clearly thought better of me than I did myself, and it was very humbling. When people think too well of me it only emphasizes the fact that they've never been inside my mind, where "evil Bekah," as I like to call her, is alive and active. Wars are waged in that mind and sometimes my loyalties are split 50-50 between right and wrong. I have a very strong "carnal nature," the depths of which only me and the Lord really know. When good prevails, even in small ways, I never credit my character - only my Savior.

I've committed a great number of sins that have shamed me, but none that have surprised me. To borrow, and totally mutilate, a quote from the Godfather, "if history has shown us anything, it's that anybody can committ any type of sin." Even the great King David - a man after God's own heart - committed adultery and murder in a moment of gross spiritual negligence. This pretty much assures me there isn't any sin, rudeness or otherwise, to which I am immune no matter how long I walk with God. The closer I get to sanctification, the richer the taste of righteousness in my mouth, the clearer this truth becomes.

As James 3:2 (NIV) says, "We all stumble in many ways."

This reality is a daily reminder to be thankful for the mercy and grace that flow abundantly from a God who is not impressed with me, but is in love with me. He teaches me to fight that war in my mind, even when fighting successfully means recognizing that I'm about to lose and crying out for help.

The verse also reminds me to be gracious to others and not to judge them, but to pray for them and to love them. Whatever it is they're going through, the fact is - it could just as easily be me. When I'm walking tall, full of self-righteousness, I tend to overlook that truth.

In Matthew 5:6 (NIV), Jesus says, "Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled."

It seems to me that those who would hunger and thirst for righteousness are the ones who recognize that they are starving and parched for lack of it. I definitely fit the description of someone who realizes how little true righteousness she has, perhaps that is why my former boss' confidence in me seemed out of place. Like a baby bird, too young to fly, I can do nothing but chirp with hunger for the righteousness only my Father, through Jesus, can provide. But the promise I have in Christ is that one day I'll be full, I'll be like Him and I'll fly with Him. Until then I do well to remember my belly is empty, and keep crying for more.