Jesus, God’s Messiah… Sacrificed yet resurrected.
Everything I need to know about in life, I learned on the bus
The wind was vicious, and as the lights of the arriving bus cut through the drifting snow, the huddled observers perked up. They strained to see through the frosted windows as the bus coasted up to them, gently coming to a halt.
Each was doing their own calculation, but all reached the same conclusion. Standing room only.
Poverty
A moral weight descended, the dilemma of too many, too little. Scarcity. Who would go without? Subconcious urges and justifications surfaced, outside and inside – “I was the first one waiting at this stop”, “She doesn’t look *that* elderly”, “I would, but she’s too far down the bus”, “I really should give up my seat, will it be awkward?”
Compassion
“Here ma’am, please sit.”
“Oh no, really, I don’t need…”
“I insist, please.”
(a humble smile) “Thank you very much.”
Carelessness
As the warm bodies flooded in, a man in the aisle stopped, blocking the flow. “Move back please,” sang the driver. “All the way to the back.” The man, deaf, oblivious or apathetic, didn’t move.
Conflict
The tension was palpable, the pressure building behind the block. People trying to board looked ahead in confusion and frustration: “Keep it moving.”
The meek girl murmured inaudibly, “Excuse me, please.” She cast a hopeful glance behind her, looking for the driver. Would he speak more forcibly?
The man behind her wasn’t shy. With a rough, “Excuse me, thank you.” he shouldered his way through to the back of the bus. Following his lead, the crowd began to flow once more. The tension eased, with a few reproachful glances thrown at the blocking man.
Selfishness
The youth was adamant. His bag was staying put on the seat beside him. They could stand.
Romance
Was he looking at her? Or was it just that he was facing that way? He was always on the bus on the way to work, but not on the afternoon one from work. Maybe she could take a longer lunch, stay after work, see if he was on a later bus…
She’s so beautiful. Don’t stare… Don’t stare. Boy, that window sure looks interesting. Is she still there? Of course she is… you know we haven’t reached her stop yet. Is she looking at you? Oh no, eye contact! Will she be take it the wrong way if I smile at her?
Crime and Punishment
The driver was willing to tolerate the foul language for a few stops, but when the open liquor came out, he pulled the bus over, between stops. “Your ride ends here.” Sighs of relief were audible as the two stepped off the bus.
God
It was the half an hour in his day when, free from expectation, he could stop the world and be still. He closed his eyes and let the hum and bustle flow past him. “Lord, I want to be your servant today…”
Everything I need to know about in life, I learned on the bus, because the bus is full of people.
Community is hard
Edit: I like this story but I think it deserves some context.
I was talking with a friend, and we both agreed that, “Community is hard.” One question that I wanted to ask her but didn’t was, “If you were to tell a story about *why* community was hard, what would that story be?”
Afterwards, I figured that if I was going to pester people for stories, I’d better be able and willing to share a story of my own. Here it is.
If you had the eyes of God, you could look over all the earth, and see peoples of all different sizes and shapes and colors and customs and languages… And as you did, you might notice one people in particular… The People Who Carry Things With Them.
Each member of The People Who Carry Things With Them has on their back a sack. It is what makes them who they are; it is why they can call themselves a person Who Carries Things With Them. Every man, woman and child has one. Old or young, blind or crippled or strong, rich or poor… for each person, one sack.
Each person’s sack carries the things that they value the most out of all the world. It holds their treasure, and it goes with them wherever they go. They guard the sack with their life because it is their identity, and if anyone were to look in the sack, they would know exactly who the bearer was. Some held money, some stored books, some were stuffed with odds and ends and trinkets… every sack was unique.
Along with their sacks, the people had a custom. If there was a person they cared about, or a person they loved, or respected, or admired… They reached into their sack and took something out of it, and they gave it to the other. It was how the people made friends – how they married – how they were intimate among their friends and family.
Sometimes the person receiving would accept the gift. Other times they would reject it or throw it away. And sometimes (but not very often) they would place it in their own sack, to carry as their own treasure.
This was how they lived, and through many years of living this way, they built up customs and traditions which ruled their giving. How much to give. How often. How small a thing for a friendship, how big a thing for a marriage. How to reject a gift without causing too much offense.
There was a certain man among the people who became unhappy. One day he went away by himself and sat down on a rock, looking up at the sky. He said,
“God, if you’re out there… I’m unhappy. I love my wife; I love my children. I want to tell them but…
“…I don’t have anything left to give. My sack is almost empty; there’s only one thing left inside. If I give it away, then it will be completely empty. If that happens, I will be forced to leave my family, my people and my life, because no one can abide someone who is unable to share with them.
“I gave too carelessly, too much to the wrong people… and now I am nothing.”
God, looking down, said,
“If you take the last thing out of your sack, I will fill it for you.”
The man shrugged his shoulders,
“God, what’s the point? I’ll just throw it all away again.”
God said,
“With the kinds of things that you put in the sack, I’m not surprised that you think that way. Whenever you give them away to anyone, they leave you, and your sack grows empty. I won’t fill your sack with worthless things like that. When you give away the things I give to you, you’ll still have them. In fact, your sack will grow even more full.”
The man’s eyes grew wide and he said,
“That’s what I want more than anything else. What kind of things are those?”
When the man finally arrived back at his home, he called his family around him and said,
“I have something I’d like to give you. It’s a gift I received today.”
He reached into his sack and pulled out a book. He opened it and read,
“The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. There is no law against such things. “