Curmudgeon

Part of me just really wants a reason to use this word. I’ve always loved it. So, now I will. But, my blog my way.

It unfortunately, aptly describes my attitude, for at least the better part of a decade. More specifically, about a topic in particular. Not describing me as a whole, I'd like to believe. No one would have ever assumed, I don't think, or would have used that term against me.

Nevertheless, I’d incessantly declare, “I hate the smog. The coffee bar is so cliche. I hate the lights. I hate ALL the new songs. I hate how many times they sing the same song.” And on & on I’d go. I was a real peach, no doubt. Sundays seemed to bring out the best in me.

And then I’d pretend to be astonished when my teens didn’t want to attend church with me.

I mean, the problem was clearly everyone else. Certainly not me. My opinions were absolutely warranted. My feelings were valid and I know because I’d ask everyone around me! I’d practically take polls! I’d even post on facebook and have PLENTY of folks on my side. It definitely wasn’t all me. I was justified.

And then today, after attending this particular church for at least the 6th time, still not “feeling” it….something happened.

These words above pictured, flashed on the jumbo screen.

Our English written song was no longer recognizable to me. Then, what I had credulously assumed, our English speaking worship pastor, & beyond talented musician, beautifully transitioned from English to Spanish while singing and playing the piano. It wasn't a big deal, really.

Except, the gentleman next to me suddenly sang louder with each Spanish praise. And it might have been all in my head, but I swore he stood a little straighter. Paid better attention. Rising his hands toward the heavens in sweet surrender.

I felt pure Curmudgeon (yes with a capital C) begin to peel off me like layers of a stinky onion.

And I could hear in my soul, “It’s not for you. It’s for them. It’s NOT about you…it’s about Me.”

More Curmudgeon.

I could practically hear it hitting the floor beneath the heels that that I thought previously looked so perfect with my outfit. Almost like chains breaking…

In that instant nothing else matters. It all matters, of course: proper church procedures & protocol. Doctrine, accuracy, and inerrancy are to never be overlooked.

But I already knew those were in line.

But… I wasn’t.

Nothing "wrong" had been going on, Nothing contradictory to the Word had taken place.

This time, I knew I was the problem. There was no mistaking. I could keep complaining and trying to control (because that’s actually what it’s about, isn’t it) or I could move out of the way and let it be about the One Who it was always about in the first place.

God deserves the praises of His people.

And perhaps maybe, along the way, I could learn and understand there is beauty in the differences. There is freedom in change.

There is more than one way to…slice a stinky onion.