Kindness

“Kindness does not require us to be blind to facts or to live in fancies, but it does require us to cherish a habit of goodwill, ready to show pity if sorrow appears, and slow to turn away even if hostility appears.”

Alexander MacLaren said that. I don’t know anything about him, but I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how often kindness is absent. Yesterday I was standing in line at the jewelers to drop off my rings to have them cleaned and sent out to rebrush the finish. There was a mom at the counter in front of me. One baby was in the stroller sleeping and there was a toddler with one of those backpacks in the shape of an animal with the tail to be used as a tether so they wouldn’t run off. She looked a little younger then 2 years old. The mom was trying to talk to the salesperson but the  toddler was bored (and who could blame her? I was, too) and generally just looking for things to amuse herself. Shuffling through pamphlets and consequently dropping them on the floor, trying to talk to her sleeping sibling, bolting out the door giggling in waves of delight. She wasn’t being malicious. You could tell by her expressions that she wasn’t being belligerent. She was bored. She was a toddler. Her mother clearly had it up to here with her daughters shenanigans. Muttering PG rated curse words, she harshly rebuked and shamed her toddler. I thought of trying to help, but given the glances the mom shot me, I doubt anything I could do would be received well. Mom was ticked off. The grand finale was when mom went to reach for the receipt the sales lady offered her and since she was still holding the tether, pulled the little girl to ground. Instead of picking up the toddler and then retrieving the paper, she dragged the child across the floor until she could get it. The child fussed, frustrated in not being able to get back on her feet without being tugged along. My initial thought was, why are you having children if you don’t even like them? Judge much, right? My kids aren’t perfect and I know this. I work 24/7 training them to behave but every now and then, I still find myself chasing my bored toddler down the aisle.

Getting angry at toddler is obviously bad parenting. But, in retrospect, simply acknowledging that fact doesn’t do anyone any good. Especially not that mom or her kids. We are called to kindness.  God has poured an ocean of kindness out upon us and here we sit, nestled in our inner-tube, margartia in hand, basking in the glow of redemption. All seems well with our souls until someone less fortunate crosses our path. They make waves. All that splashing with them drowning in their own lost pain is making us spill our drink. How dare they! “Bad parenting” I think. This mom looked exhausted. Her hair was frazzled, her face was tired and undressed, she wore ill fitting jeans and a sweatshirt, in short, this woman wasn’t being cared for. She wasn’t being cherished. I’m guessing she is being taken for granted, emotionally and physically used everyday. Turns out I’m a raging jerk.

I know we can’t fix everything. I’d make a resolution to carry around crayons and paper for next time I encountered a situation like that, but I barely remember to bring my keys when I leave the house. But I still feel like a jerk because I am a jerk. I need to ask for forgiveness for my cruel, judgmental thoughts. Maybe say a prayer for her and for her children. She wasn’t being kind to her children, which is 100% wrong. What she was doing was practicing bad parenting, but who am I to judge her for it? A couple months ago I saw a meme on Pinterest with a picture of Sherlock and the caption was, “No, no, no. I’m not insulting you. I’m describing you.” It made me laugh. As Christians, I don’t think we are called to be blind. We are to acknowledge the bad. We see sin. We can identify it and call it by name. We are not to live in plastic bubbles, sheltered from all the evil. Acknowledgment and judging can sometimes seem similar, but they couldn’t be more different. “Don’t judge people, and you won’t be judged yourself.  You’ll be judged, you see, by the judgement you use to judge others! You’ll be measured by the measuring rod you use to measure others!” (Matthew 7:1&2) One brings death and one brings life. One kicks the downtrodden and the other lifts them up. Jesus did not come to look down His nose at prostitutes and tax collectors. He didn’t come to shun or mock mothers who had’t learned how to keep a toddler obedient and happy in public. He didn’t come to tally up how many people He ticked off and wear it like a badge of honor. He came to bring salvation. I’m not saying His mission was all hearts and flowers. Jesus had very little tolerance for bullies. For people who picked on the weak. People who cast judgment and dragged down and corrected the less fortunate. People who poked fun at those weaker then themselves. People who are jerks.

On the way home, the Spirit took me down.  “Pride goes before destruction, and a haughty spirit before stumbling.” (Proverbs 16:18) In waves I started realizing all the ways I’ve failed my children recently. I’ve become easily frustrated with them when they refused to finish dinner without consequences. I’ve felt claustraphobic when they needed extra snuggles. I have resented them when they left used kleenexes on the floor instead of throwing it away. Of course, I haven’t dragged them across the floor, but my slights against them in some ways are worse. As their mother, I have lied to them about the nature of God while I was being taken care of and while I knew the truth. I have no excuse. The weight settled heavily on my shoulders. And then I started to imagine that kind of weight must feel like, not knowing how to lift it. How to process it. How to handle it. Imagine that kind of guilt? By the grace of God, I know how to handle it. I grew up in a Christian home. I’ve had the answer key right in front of me my whole life. How do we deal with sin…I know the answer to that one! But not knowing is the kind of weight unbelievers live under every day. They don’t know the freedom of confession and restitution. Me? I pray and ask for forgiveness. I go home, I hold my babies and apologize for being impatient, frustrated, grouchy with them. My daughters wrap their arms around my neck and forgive me as easily as taking a breath. My toddler puckers up his lips and plants a snot strewn smooch right on my lips “MMMMWAH!”. My baby smiles up at me and waves. But that woman in the mall, I’m willing to bet she is living under a lifetime of regret and guilt. There is no easy forgiveness to ease her mind because she hasn’t be shown the glory that is believing. She knows no rest. She is crushed beneath the weight of her sins.

I resolve, again, to be more careful. To monitor my thoughts and words. There’s no award for being the biggest jerk in Northern Idaho. I must make a conscience effort to cultivate kindness in myself. To practice putting the other person before myself. To put my own stuff on the back burner more so I have more time to help others with their stuff. To stand up to the bullies and take the hit in place of those less fortunate then I am. To give away more. To offer sympathy and an encouraging word more. To listen when others talk to me, and not only hear them, but genuinely care about them and interact with them. To love people more then I love myself. “After all, nobody ever hates his own flesh: he feeds it and takes care of it, just as the Messiah does with the church, because we are parts of his body.” (Ephesians 5:29&30)

It’s not going to be easy. I know I’m going to mess up. I know I’m a serial sinner. But I know how to handle my sins. I know what I need to do to make it right. I don’t feel downtrodden. I don’t feel overwhelmed. But I know this kind of strength isn’t coming from me and that is comforting. This is going to be good. Hard, absolutely, but worth it.