Here are a couple of pictures I snapped of Jason being amazing in taking the initiative to wash windows last weekend for some spring cleaning. I'm so grateful for his ability to jump into projects like this to take care of our house and family. The reflection below speaks to this gift.
"The cabbie was an older gentleman who eagerly and quickly engaged me in conversation. During our short talk, I mentioned that I would be married soon.
'Married?' he said. 'So you love her, do you?'
'Yes, sir. I sure do.'
'Well, son.' He paused, glancing at me in the rear view mirror. 'You be sure to change that toilet paper roll before she asks.'
I turned to gaze at the scenery as it streaked by the window. 'You bet,' I said, as if his comment made all the sense in the world. In reality, I couldn't figure out how he went so quickly from getting married and being in love to doing chores. What was that all about?
He seemed to pick up on my disconnect and said, 'I'm serious, now. You gotta do it.'
'All right," I assured him. 'You got it.' I hoped that would be the end of it. But it wasn't.
'Kid, you don't get it. I lost my marriage. I shoulda changed the toilet paper.'
Looking up, I could see him staring at the road in front of us, shaking his head. 'I'm telling you...' he said, talking to himself as much as to me. 'I'm telling you, it would have made a difference.'
He was right. I didn't get it. But I remembered our conversation and have been a regular toilet- paper changer throughout the course of my marriage. It turns out that being on toilet-paper duty is less about doing a simple chore and more about loving my wife. It has been about living a posture of service. I've learned that the little things don't add up to a healthy relationship; they are symptomatic of it. Changing the toilet paper serves as a practice of sorts for my heart. It is a discipline, a habit, that roots me in a love that gives. I have to take the time and energy away from something else in my day, something I would rather be doing, in order to change the toilet paper. And it would seem that doing so is a small thing because it takes only a few short minutes, even if the paper rolls are in another room of the house. But it's not the size of the job I face when I do it; it's my will. And if I am unable or unwilling to do such a small thing as this for my wire, it is less likely that I will serve her well when it actually costs me or inconveniences me.
So it is with prayer, sacrifice or any other spiritual practice. Take fasting, for instance. Skipping meals can seem only loosely associated with the practical, daily occurrences of life. But I have found that voluntarily and regularly removing a comfort from my life readies my heart to make more urgent, everyday sacrifices when they are called for.
When my neighbor's work schedule changes and her son needs a ride to school,
when my friends can't pay their rent or mortgage,
when war terrorizes a country, and those left behind need to rebuild,
when drought comes and hope seems to dry up with the land,
when the shaky ground of politics opens up and swallows whole families and cities and nations,
will I be practiced enough at the art of sacrifice to respond with courage, hope and wisdom?
Prayer and fasting can seem divorced from normal life, but the posture I learn to live in, particularly as I voluntarily give up my own comforts, prepares me to give myself away when the time comes to do so.
-Justin McRoberts Prayer
No comments:
Post a Comment