I was driving to church on Sunday, running late, of course. I can blame the lateness a little on the time change, but mostly it is the eternal battle between my vanity and my desire to sleep just a few more minutes. Though I wish I were more punctual, I come from a long and austere legacy of dawdlers, piddlers, and people who underestimate how long it takes to get places. We talk about “Alger Time” in my family, and we aren’t being factious.
It’s just who I am.
(Funny aside: David can be a bit, um, let’s go with despotic and fairly rigid on how things ought to be. He is not, however, exempt from Alger Time. So, while punctuality is not his forte, woe to the one who keeps him waiting. This is what we call situational irony, children. As his baby sister, I like to be late on purpose to see what happens. Shhhh, don’t tell!)
Anyway, I get to church, just in time to begin sound-check. We (the praise band) were having an off day; our drummer was out of town and we couldn’t seem to get our act together. The sound team was struggling and we were all feeling the missing hour.
And then I heard it. A request made and denied. A call for compromise rejected. The reason? That’s just how I am.
Wait a minute…
When did that become okay? When did we start accepting our flaws as fact, citing a birthright of bullheadedness? At what point did we decide to stop becoming better?
There is mercy and grace and rest and peace to be found at the foot of the cross. We are invited to come as we are to partake in the blessings. We’re also instructed to be like Christ.
Come as you are, but don’t stay that way.