Have you ever read something that you knew applied to you in a way that was both true and made you profoundly uncomfortable? That happened to me not too long ago. It bugged me so much that I had to dog-ear the page so I could finish being bugged later. This particular something was in a book by one of my favorite authors, Donald Miller.
In this particular section of Miller’s Searching for God Knows What, he’s recounting a story of standing in line at his favorite coffee shop. As he is standing there, this guy blatently cuts in front of the guy in front of him. What happens next rather clearly separates me from the guy in front of him. The guy in the story gets all bent out of shape and starts staring a hole through the cutter. I would never have done this. I would have started with, “Excuse me.” and escalated things as necessary until he relocated his impertinant backside to the end of the line where he belonged. Thus the conviction the following commentary visits upon yours truly. As if the hook weren’t well and truly planted in my pride at this point, he adds to the problem by augmenting this story with another story of another friend that goes particularly nuts when someone cuts him off in traffic. In my own defense, I am past the road raging of my younger years. This fact does not change the fact that there are few things that aggrevate me more than being cut off in traffic.
Here’s where the problem begins: Miller questions if the reactions that I and others like me have are nothing more that a manifestation of insecurity. Are these a reflection of the fact that I take the possibility that others could succeed in cutting line on me in traffic (or Starbucks) as a sign that I am not worth as much as they?
The convicting part to me is the implication that I am deriving my self worth from somewhere other than where I should be. Intellectually (and theologically) I know that my ultimate worth doesn’t come from either my position in some global line or the fact that I allow no disrespect to go unanswered. The problem is, neither my actions not my emotions seem consistent with that fact. I’ve always known I had these reactions, but I thought I was simply defending (in a manly way) my “honor” (or something like that anyway).
Miller talks throughout this book about the idea of lifeboat theory. Its based on the ethics/morals exercise in which there is a sinking ship and a lifeboat of limited capacity. The list of potential lifeboat passenger candidates exceeds the capacity of said lifeboat by some amount. Participants in the exercise must sort out who gets the seats and who falls sinking into the abyss with Leonardo DiCaprio. Miller makes the point that humans often seem to be involved in some global game of lifeboat in which we are all trying to secure our positions by ensuring that we are either of great value, or that someone else is of lesser value. This in turn guarentees that we will not be the one left off.
If I allow that guy to cut me off in Starbucks, that implies he is more worthy of the lifeboat seat than I. As a result, I am willing to behave in a manner that witnesses would probably not attribute to my Christian faith, but instead to a rather surly disposition.
If one believes that we are all just the result of some cosmicly improbable evolutionary accident, and that we are no different from apes and wart hogs, then I suppose this sort of behavior would not be all that disturbing. I don’t believe that, however. I believe that I (and the rest of the human race) were the result of a deliberate act of creation by a loving and (thankfully) forgiving God. Intellectually (an theologically) I know that I have inherent value as a person and that this value comes from the fact that I was 1) Uniquely created by God 2) in His image and that 3) the same God came as Christ, suffered, and died for my sins that I might share eternity with Him. Yet somehow, I lose track of this. Somehow, I still want to fight for my seat on the lifeboat from time to time.
Man, I love Donald Miller. Two years ago, I hadn’t read anything of his and when he walked on to the Catalyst stage, I went- “Hey, there is a slouchy, ill-dressed dude like me.” And when he spoke, it definitely echoed some stuff that was happening deep in me. Love all his books, especially his latest about growing up father-less.
And I hear what you are saying. As someone who never was “cool” or “popular” or the adult equivalent “wealthy,” I sometimes feel the whole issue of being in the boat. And I am just believing that my seat was bought and paid for a long time ago by someone worthier than me and He gave me His spot. But it is an interesting to think about how it affects us in our day to day lives.
Comment by Jason Sansbury — May 7, 2007 @ 1:57 pm