My church celebrated the Lenten season in a fun way this year, it was (and still is) called the Jesus Project. I won't try to describe it because you can read and learn about it here.
Andy Rooney passed away last fall. If you are unfamiliar, here is an example of the monologues he used to give. He didn't get the chance to participate in the Jesus Project. I know he wasn't a Christian, but I want to take a stab at what a monologue of his would have been like for this project. If this sort of postmortem experiment into the purely hypothetical offends you, I'll remind you that you are probably making an active and conscious decision to read this right now.
It is tough to have faith in people anymore. Just the other day I was riding the bus to work. I do this every morning. It is generally uneventful, but on this day we had a treat.
A man gets up as we are approaching one of the busy stops. He startles the relatively silent bus with a sudden and profound exclamation:
"Oooh, K!" He pauses. He stumbles. "Imma tell you aaaall you need to know for the day." He waits. Any space that had not already been filled with silence on the bus is now still. "The only thing I know is that God is real. YUP!" ... "It don't get no better than God Almighty."
A part of me wanted to cheer "Amen!" What faith this man has!? A feeling of anxiety was palpable so I held my tongue. Only the squeaking of the bus brakes could cut that silence.
And let me tell you, I was glad I stayed quiet. The man proceeded to get off the bus. With the same crass and jostling style that he had just preached to us, he greeted the waiting bus patrons with a series of expletives. Boy, did he really get the best of me.
I like talking to people. It is probably why I do it for a living. I used to board the bus each day, say good morning and tip my hat to folks as I walked to my seat. At some point I stopped. I don't know if other people stopped saying hi back or if others suddenly seemed unappealing. But I stopped. I probably talk to less people now than I used to, so let me tell you another story.
Riding along one day I saw a tire on the side of the road. I don't know where it came from and I don't know where it was going. It could've been anything. It could have been abandoned by a NASCAR fleet. It could have been a blowout on an SUV that should have been recalled. It could be the next tire swing down at a playground.
Some might assume that there are two ways to think about this tire. Some people might think about where the tire has been and how it got there. Some people might think about all of the ways that this tire could be reused or that it should be disposed of. I sit and wonder whether or not anybody else has ever noticed the tire.
I am constantly aware of people who are around me. To varying degrees, I assume that they are very aware of me. My awareness in other folks should make it easier for me to trust people. It should make it easier for me to guess what they might do next. But it doesn't, it only affirms that people act randomly when given the chance.
There is an old man who rides my bus. I can call him old because I happen to be a subject matter expert. He sits near the front of the bus and politely asks people around him to make sure he gets off at the right stop, to help him up from his seat and to tell him how to find the bus door. He is blind but he doesn't have the red tipped cane to show for it. I find myself sitting in amazement as he relies solely on the kindness of strangers to go about his day. His needs are basic, but their kindness must exceed his expectations for how he'd expect them to help.
For all I know this man is a liar. He can see. He can find the door. He can see his stop coming. He has every ability to get by day to day on his own power. But he doesn't do these things. He hopes for kindness. He receives abundantly. He is gracious and he is always back the next day for more. What faith this man has.
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