{"id":3350,"date":"2026-04-21T03:45:34","date_gmt":"2026-04-21T07:45:34","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.patheos.com\/blogs\/snarkyfaith\/?p=3350"},"modified":"2026-04-20T13:47:33","modified_gmt":"2026-04-20T17:47:33","slug":"please-remain-seated","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.patheos.com\/blogs\/snarkyfaith\/2026\/04\/please-remain-seated\/","title":{"rendered":"Please Remain Seated"},"content":{"rendered":"\n<\/head>

\"A
Image created by DALL\u00b7E<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/p>

Life, as Arthur Schopenhauer<\/a> once suggested, is a bus ride\u2014not a scenic tour or a cushy charter, but a crowded, grimy city bus. You didn\u2019t choose to board. You don\u2019t control the route.<\/p>\n

You can\u2019t get off early. You\u2019re crammed shoulder-to-shoulder with strangers, many of whom are annoying, oblivious, or actively hostile. There\u2019s no clear driver in sight, no map, and no explanation of where this thing is going\u2014just the dull hum of motion and the occasional existential draft from a broken window.<\/p>\n

And somehow, that bleak metaphor feels\u2026 honest.<\/p>\n

To be clear, Schopenhauer never actually described life as a bus ride\u2014but the metaphor fits. It echoes his bleak view of human existence: powerless, restless, and painfully aware. I just swapped his hedgehog dilemma<\/a> for public transit.<\/p>\n

It also feels like a decent picture of how deconstruction begins. Not with certainty. Not with clarity. But with that disorienting moment when you stop pretending you know where the bus is going\u2014or why you were pretending in the first place.<\/p>\n

Looking Out the Window<\/h2>\n

For a while, I thought I had the ride figured out. Like many others, I was handed a spiritual roadmap early on. Here\u2019s your belief system, here\u2019s your destination, and here\u2019s a church program that makes it look like we\u2019re going somewhere on purpose. I took it seriously. Memorized it. Taught it. Tried not to question the broken air conditioning or the smell of stale performance.<\/p>\n

Then one day, I actually looked out the window.<\/p>\n

That\u2019s the beginning of deconstruction. You stop mouthing along with the announcements and start wondering who recorded them in the first place. You begin to realize that most of your spiritual habits were inherited, not chosen\u2014assembled by the people and systems around you like a theological IKEA set\u2014half the parts missing, no hex key.<\/p>\n

And then, if you\u2019re lucky, it starts to turn inward.<\/p>\n

You begin to ask: Who am I outside of these systems? Who am I without the roles, the expectations, the coping mechanisms disguised as righteousness? You start to realize that what you thought was obedience might\u2019ve just been fear. That your certainty was a cage with stained glass windows.<\/p>\n

It\u2019s not just the world you\u2019re deconstructing. It\u2019s yourself.<\/p>\n

Shared Misery, Shared Space<\/h2>\n

When you start seeing clearly, it\u2019s hard to unsee. And one of the first things that shifts is how you engage the people around you.<\/p>\n

Before, I\u2019d get rattled when someone on the bus acted out\u2014when someone took up too much space, talked too loud, or just refused to follow the unspoken rules. But now? I try to remember that most people are riding with their own trauma, tangled wiring, and half-read maps. Some are selfish. Some are just scared. Some genuinely can\u2019t see outside their own broken windows.<\/p>\n

Their mess doesn\u2019t have to become mine.<\/p>\n

That clarity changes how you show up. It quiets the urge to control or fix. It makes room for kindness, not as a moral obligation, but as a survival strategy. A way to move through this shared absurdity with a little less harm. A little more grace.<\/p>\n

Because seriously\u2014why are we still fighting over seat cushions and leg room?<\/p>\n

The Real Work Happens Off-Mic<\/h2>\n

Years ago, I led a youth mission trip to Skid Row in Los Angeles. We partnered with a local ministry that handed out meals\u2014but only after an hour-long evangelistic service. It was less about compassion and more like spiritual timeshare sales: sit through our pitch, and maybe we\u2019ll let you eat.<\/p>\n

They asked me to preach one of those mandatory services. And I did. But it never felt like ministry.<\/p>\n

That came later\u2014off-mic\u2014sitting with people, hearing their stories, being present with them in the wreckage. No message. No altar call. Just showing up, listening, and realizing how easily \u201cthe gospel\u201d becomes a product when the system takes the wheel. Funny how people become easier to hear once you stop treating them like a project.<\/p>\n

It was one of the first cracks in the window.<\/p>\n

The Hope That Doesn\u2019t Sell<\/h2>\n

So is there hope in all of this?<\/p>\n

I think so. But it\u2019s not the kind you can bottle or sell. It doesn\u2019t come with a promise or a guarantee. It\u2019s quieter. Stranger.<\/p>\n

Hope, in this context, is choosing to engage\u2014not because you\u2019re guaranteed it\u2019ll change anything, but because not engaging makes you smaller. Colder. Brittle.<\/p>\n

Hope is realizing that you don\u2019t have to mirror the chaos around you. That presence matters.<\/p>\n

That kindness, curiosity, and grounding aren\u2019t signs of weakness\u2014they\u2019re signs that maybe, just maybe, you\u2019ve stopped trying to white-knuckle your way through life and started actually living in your seat.<\/p>\n

Even if the destination is still unclear.<\/p>\n

Closing the Loop<\/h2>\n

Schopenhauer was right\u2014the ride is bleak. But he missed something.<\/p>\n

You don\u2019t have to go numb. You don\u2019t have to lose yourself to survive it. There\u2019s a strange kind of freedom that comes with seeing clearly: you realize how little you control, and how much you still can choose. How you treat others. How you respond. What you carry\u2014and what you let go.<\/p>\n

Deconstruction isn\u2019t about getting off the bus. It\u2019s about waking up on it.<\/p>\n

Please remain seated.<\/p>\n

\n
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