Yesterday, I was sitting in the car waiting for Sarah to come out of the doctor’s office. I was facing a four-lane street in a part of town that is extremely congested, especially at this particular time of day. Cars were whizzing past at a rather alarming rate. There were shiny new cars, old and worn out cars, some were painted brilliant colors and others had mismatched doors and hoods.
Having accidentally left my book at home, I was trying to entertain myself with what had been set before m, and my attention slowly turned from the cars themselves to the occupants behind the tinted glass. What I initially saw was quite funny. It is interesting what people do when they think no one is looking. Needless to say, I saw some very unique facial expressions! I couldn’t help giggling when I saw an older gentleman facing the window and rolling his eyes while his wife prattled on in sweet oblivion.
The more I watched, I began to notice other things. Many people had their cell phones held to their ears. Some were talking in such a frustrated manner that I felt as if I were watching a silent movie. You know, the ones with the people wildly waving their arms and jumping up and down like they’ve lost a few of their marbles. I saw a few smiling faces peering out of the glass and some were even laughing. There were many couples, both young and old. It struck me that most of them wore very irritable expressions, and if they weren’t engaging in a heated “discussion” they were sitting in silence, each staring blankly out the windshield.
Occasionally, I would see little arms flailing around in the back seat. Toys were being tossed around, an occasional scream would erupt, and Mom would be trying to console little Johnny with a snack or some juice. There were some lone drivers. This group varied a bit. There were happy faces singing with the radio (I even saw one waving an imaginary microphone), some were talking to themselves, some smiling, and a few were wiping away tears. Occasionally there would be cars that were so loaded down with people that it was amazing to me that they were actually rolling down the road. There were girls out shopping, laughing and giggling all the way and the guys were out just trying to “play it cool”. I saw all kinds.
As I sat there taking all of this in, I suddenly began to look at each car as it’s own little world. These “worlds” varied in size as well as in personality. Some contained families and others only a few people and still others could only boast of one occupant. Each one had it’s own story; it’s own hopes and fears, problems and predicaments, joys and praises. It seemed that all of these mini worlds were in a heated race to who knows where. At a glance, one would notice only that there were hundreds of people. But, if you look deeper, you realize that there are hundreds of people, yes, but they are completely isolated.
Now this may seem ridiculously obvious to some of you.
“Of course they’re isolated,” you say, “they’re in a car!”
Bear with me for a moment. Lets take this same scenario and place it into a different location.
Last year my family and I were fortunate enough to be able to visit Washington D.C. That trip involved a lot of “firsts” for me. One of the most memorable experiences was, believe it or not, riding on the subway. I learned a lot about the big city in that one seemingly insignificant experience. First, never sit in a seat that is facing backwards, even if it’s the only one available. You
will get sick! Second, personal space is virtually non-existent, especially at rush hour. Third, no one, I repeat, no one wants to speak or to be spoken to. This was discovered the hard way. I tried to engage in a conversation with the woman next to me, trying to be polite since we were basically sitting on top of each other, and she nearly snapped my head off. On other occasions the person would just completely ignore me or they would give me a biting glare that made me wish that my dad were sitting a little bit closer for protection.
As I sat there, wedged into my seat, and reflected on my failed attempts at being friendly, I began to look around the car. There were more than fifty or sixty people in that one car, maybe even more. People of all shapes and sizes, personalities and backgrounds, residents and tourists, different colors and fashions were piled into that car. There was a huge diversity of people on that train
and not one word was spoken. Aside from the sound of the train barreling through the underground tunnels and the speakers announcing the upcoming stop, there was absolute silence. Over and over again the train would stop, the doors would swing open and people would disappear into the darkness and their places would inevitably be filled with others that looked even more sour than their predecessors.
My sensitive and inherently friendly southern nature was shocked. During our forty-five minute commute I saw hundreds of people come and go and no one spoke a single word. Teens and adults alike were plugged in to their Ipods, others were reading books or newspapers, and a few were just staring into space, but no one seemed willing to acknowledge the fact that there were other human beings on the train.
These people had no excuse for their isolation. They were not alone in a car. They were not surrounded by walls that created mini world that was cut off from the outside. They were on a train with hundreds of other people, like sardines in a tin can, and yet they were still isolated. Imaginary walls were wrapped tightly around the mind and the heart that created a mini world, the center of which was the individual. Their hopes their struggles, their joys and fears were all bottled up inside and they resisted people like me who tried to penetrate the icy outer layer of the atmosphere of their little world.
This realization made me want to cry. I wanted to stand up and make a scene trying to get these people to realize what was happening. I saw all of the conversations that could have been that are lost every day. Imagine all of the new friends and acquaintances that might have been made - the new things that might have been learned. Most importantly, imagine all of the opportunities to encourage others and to be a witness for Christ that are lost forever.
I see this problem in my own life as well. I have been accused on numerous occasions of being something of a hermit. These accusations are partly true. While I love having fellowship with others and meeting new people, I love being home even more. If you were to ask me if I’d rather go shopping with a group of friends or stay at home, I would definitely choose to stay at home. While I
like to think that this stems from my love of being home, I have recently come to realize that, deep in my heart, I just don’t want to be bothered. For whatever reason, the exertion of going out and engaging in fellowship with others, whether it be at a church dinner, going out with a friend, or just being friendly to the people standing in the thirty-minute line at the Walmart check-out, just doesn’t appeal to me on some days. I can always come up with other more important things that I could be doing elsewhere or, even better,
at home.
Of course, this makes no sense really, because once I start talking to someone (
no matter who it is) I love every minute of it. I always benefit from fellowship once I get into it. It’s just the “getting into it” part that I like to fight against.
That voice telling me that I just “cant be bothered” is the voice of lies. You know, that voice that you’re constantly telling to shut-up and leave you alone but never really seems to take the hint? It’s the voice that whispers,
“You don’t have the time to listen to her go on about her problems.”
“That call will take forever, just call back later when you aren’t so busy.”
“She doesn’t need encouragement! If you say anything you’ll just embarrass her and make the whole situation worse.”
“Why put yourself out to talk to someone you don’t even know? They’ve got a cell phone. Let them call someone if they want conversation.”
All of these arguments can be pretty convincing. Especially if your outlook is completely me-centered. But, as Christians were are commanded to treat others the way we wish to be treated. (Leviticus 19:18) Would any of us say that we can’t be bothered with ourselves? Of course not! In fact, it is in our nature to act as if the entire world revolves around us. If you don’t believe me, just baby-sit a toddler for a couple of hours. This is the sinful nature of man. We are taught by the world to “look out for number one” and that it’s “every man for himself” and the life is really just the “survival of the fittest”. Do you hear how selfish and unloving this is?
Christ calls us to something higher. He said that the second greatest commandment was to love you neighbor as yourself (Matthew 22:39). I think we would all agree that we love ourselves, but how many of us could come up with even one other person that we love as much as ourselves? How many of us can say that we tolerate the faults in others as much as our own? (Luke 6:41) That seems to be asking a lot.
This means that I have to love my sister when she is hogging the computer when I really, really
need it, or at least, when I
think that I need it, because she has just as much right to use it as I do. I have to have patience with the person who is pouring out all of her woes even when I think I have better things to do. I need to take the time to talk to someone who maybe just needed hear a friendly voice or to see a smiling face. Even the cashier who has a line back to the meat department needs some grace. After all, isn’t that what I would want others to do for me? How would I feel if I knew that maybe others felt that they “couldn’t be bothered” with me?
Maybe you’re out shopping, on a train, or just going to a gathering at church. Please don’t isolate yourself from those around you. Take the time to encourage someone, even if you just flash them a friendly smile as you pass by. You never know the good you might do just by stepping out of your own little world and engaging in someone else’s.
