Inappropriate Frustration

By DEBBIE BYRD

I’ve begun to think some of our most meaningful epiphanies occur in the most mundane settings.

Pushing my cart to the check out counter in the grocery store, a young man rushed ahead of me. As it turned out, he had some kind of public assistance coupons redeemable for several cans of baby formula. But the new cashier didn’t know how to handle the transaction. What should have taken a minute ended up taking nearly 10. And 10 minutes in a grocery check out line can seem like a very long period of time.

I realized I was getting inappropriately frustrated. I wanted the person to get a job, so he could pay for the baby formula just like I would. I wondered if he was a citizen. Did he pay taxes? All that foolishness was going through my mind. At the same time, I was unusually aware that my reactions were ridiculous. After all, I knew absolutely nothing about this young man. I didn’t know where he was from. I didn’t know what kind of job he had or didn’t have, how he did or didn’t labor. If he wasn’t American-born and bred, I didn’t know what dire conditions might have driven him to the United States. I didn’t know whether he was married or unmarried. I didn’t know if his baby was well or unwell. All I knew was that he apparently cared enough for his child that he was going through the red tape to get his baby some formula.

This little scenario nagged me all weekend.

I’d just read Barbara Walter’s column, printed in this month’s Manna. Barbara discusses reasons why people do compassionate things when it isn’t always because they truly have compassion.

Barbara’s column nagged me all weekend.

I don’t believe in waste. So it’s natural for me to take things that are still perfectly useable to a shelter or a church thrift shop. I could never imagine just throwing away a piece of clothing when someone could use it. But I’d fooled myself into thinking that I give in these circumstances because I felt any compassion for the recipient. Oh, sometimes I do. But isn’t it easier to just give to nameless, faceless people that might receive something from a church thrift shop than to actually know who that person is and feel anything for their situation? Isn’t it less “messy”? It’s neater to have compassion for the “poor” than it is for a specific human being. Don’t we always tend to want to fix their lives or find reasons why they wouldn’t be in the situation they are in if they’d tried harder, worked harder, cheated less, stolen less?

I suspect that a lot of us fall into this pattern. We take a degree of pride in helping so long as the helping is at arm’s length. When faced with the reality of a person in need standing in front of us in a grocery line, do we feel compassion or frustration?

As we enjoy our Thanksgiving dinners with family and friends, are we aware of those who can’t comprehend our heavily laden tables? As we busy ourselves in Black Friday preparations for Christmas gift-giving, are we aware of those who can only dream of providing a new pair of shoes for their child? As we bundle ourselves in our new coats, are we aware of the many homeless among us who long for the one we have hanging at the back of the closet?

At a recent concert in Salisbury, Bebo Norman spoke of a man who was assigned to count bodies after the Rwandan atrocities. Bebo said the man found himself less and less asking, “Where is God?” and more and more asking, “Where are God’s people?”

May our prayer this Thanksgiving be that we may truly be God’s people – compassionately serving others, instead of ourselves, without prejudice and bias or inappropriate frustration – pure vessels of God’s love to a hurting world.

Debbie Byrd is general manager of Maranatha, Inc., a ministry that includes Joy! 102.5 WOLC and the Manna.