I'm not proud to admit that, for years, I think I've sat in church perfecting a very specific facial expression. It's usually reserved for parents with loud children who seem to have no interest whatsoever in quieting their little ones; every now and then, I also have used it with people whose cell phones have gone off in the middle of service. It's a face that consists of a sort of sympathetic smile combined with a knowing glance. I'll do a terrible job of trying to describe it physically, so let me just say that the basic message behind this look is, "I feel sorry for you, but please stop it right away - and, with that, you ought to know better." Like I said, I'm not admitting this happily. I feel sad to think about how often I've probably given that face. That said, I should also say that I sat in church for years while my head searched frantically for answers and my heart stayed far, far from the Lord. Within that context, it probably makes a lot of sense.
Anyway, I had a similar situation arise this weekend at church. A very disruptive moment happened right in front of me, and I had two real choices: 1) sit quietly and look away, in a pathetic attempt to not add to the embarrassment of the noisy parties or 2) I could help. The catch was that doing what would really be most helpful for the family in front of me would also mean adding to the distracting ruckus - at least for a few moments.
Truthfully, my pride and general comportment predisposed me to a strong aversion to the later. I am not really a fan of drawing attention to myself in a setting like, and this is doubly true when the attention would be almost certainly negative. But, thankfully, the Spirit intervened in the exact moment of decision and I thought, "My choice here is to protect my reputation and ego, or to love these people." So, I helped. And it was loud. And distracting. And I am sure I turned a brilliant shade of fuchsia. But I helped. And the mother I saw in the hall later said "thank you" about a million times. And I know it was the Spirit because, 1) I did the thing that is outside of my fleshly nature, and 2) when she apologized later, I absolutely meant it when I said it was no big deal, and that I was glad to help.
I have long known the famous scriptures about the fruit of the Spirit. They hung in hallway bathroom while I was a kid, so I have had them memorized for a long time: "But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Against such things, there is no law" Galatians 5:22-23 (NIV).
For years, I thought this meant that if I acted with love, tried to be joyful, expressed peaceful patience, was kind and good, seemed faithful and acted gently and with self control that then the Spirit would come an be a part of my life. I am certainly grateful I finally got turned around about my misconception. Those qualities that describe the fruit of the Spirit are the result, not the cause. The Spirit is the cause, and what comes from its presence in my life is its fruit, and the list of admirable traits is simply a cheat sheet to help recognize the fruit when it passes by.
So, when I look back on my morning and my split-second decision, I see the Spirit at work. I also am not missing what I think is a helpful reminder that sometimes the Spirit-filled life is a little messy; sometimes, it seems, it is even disruptive in church. I wonder about the areas of my life where I'm acting in accordance with the world around me - the ways in which I'm just trying not to be disruptive. I wonder if some of them are hardest to spot when the crowd around me is my wonderful church family.
Lord, open my eyes. Let my heart be consumed by Your Spirit, and show me Your way. Give me the willingness and ability to follow - no matter how noisy the moment may be.
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