Yesterday, I went for a run at the local park. In the middle of the park is a generous sized pond; its circumference is 1.2 kilometers so I know exactly how far I'm running. As I ran, I saw various waterbirds, ibises, reed runners, ducks and geese, swimming contentedly in various patterns near the shore picking through the weeds for bugs and pond scum alike. In the middle of the pond are two islands with beautiful trees gracing the islets like toupees on a submerged head. It's a nice place to run laps, but sometimes there are things there that make me scratch my head.
As I was coming down the hill to the park, I spotted a man and his best friend - his dog. This scene probably plays itself out time and time again throughout every town and city where dogs and people walk, but the man's best friend was in the middle of a bowel movement carefully laying a log cabin in the middle of the grass while his watcher stood above him gazing at the setting sun over the pond. Then, when the dog had finished adding the roof to his cabin, the man looked around intently to see if anyone was watching...
And then he moved on leaving Fido's steaming summer home alongside the path.
Oh no he didn't. I'm not one who is usually a stickler for rules, but there was something about the man's attitude that frustrated me more than the actual dump left glistening in the grass. I cleared my throat and he saw me coming. So he kept going. Oh, yeah, I'm going to give this man a piece of my mind. He knows the rules. He looked around before leaving the crap there. It's my moral obligation to do this, to stick it to him, to rub his face in the mess that he left. That will make him think twice about leaving his dog's excrement in the park next time.
I ran faster to catch up with him and the pooch, and in my righteousness I was concocting various biting remarks for his inability to pick up after himself. And then I passed him. It was apparent that he knew what he had done wrong, but he gave me the death stare as if willing me to say something so that he could respond in kind and escalate my own inflated sense of self-righteousness. Maybe it was self-preservation, maybe something else, but all that I could do was smile. It was not a smile of commiseration (I didn't know why he was in such a hurry) but of condescension. I don't need to say anything because I've got the law on my side. I could destroy you if I wanted to. I kept running.
The longer I think about yesterday's episode, the more I think about how I was wrong. I acted like a modern day Pharisee. How many times have I done something that was not necessarily within the rules - left my own metaphorical steaming mess behind - and someone has not pointed it out to me? How many times do I sit in judgment over those who are in a hurry because I am not currently being caught in the midst of my sin.
Jesus seemed to catch people in the act all the time but instead of acting like the Pharisees, he responded with grace - go and sin no more. (As if that is possible). He didn't rub their faces in it, creating a dislike for him (nobody likes to have their face rubbed in their own sin). Unlike the disciples, he didn't demand God to send destruction from above; he didn't complain about the mess that has been left.
He just cleaned it up.
He picked up all the crap and got rid of it. And sometimes people aren't even aware of what he did.
That's what I should have done. I should have grabbed a plastic bag and without the condescending look, without the self-righteous attitude, I should have done what seems more like what a Christian should be doing in this world: sometimes it is akin to washing feet; sometimes it is doing the unthinkable to administer grace. Not for our own bolstering, but for the fostering of God's kingdom here on earth. Some might say this enables the sinner to keep on sinning, to not take responsibility for their own sin, but I'd say, the next time they make a lap back to that place where they left the dump, they might notice that someone else had to pick it up and then, this small kernel of guilt might lead them to repentance and changed life.
I'll see if I can follow my own advice next time.
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