Have you ever wondered, “How long does it take to drink a Starbucks Venti?” I know the answer to that question, at least as it applies to one unidentified individual.
When I arrive at work in the morning it is not uncommon for me to see an empty Starbucks cup lying on our lawn. I see it frequently enough so that I am not surprised by it. This paper cup is always a Venti, it is always in the planting area along the east side of our sign and it is usually lying in a north-south orientation. I pick it up and throw it away.
So how long does it take to drink a Starbucks Venti? Well, for one individual it takes the time to walk the 2½ blocks from the nearest Starbucks.
Admittedly my research is based on uncertain assumptions. Perhaps the cup bearer jogs rather than walks; although I doubt that. Possibly this cup bearer stops and sits on our lawn and leisurely sips his/her drink, and then dumps their cup on our yard where it patiently waits for me to pick it up.
I am not telling you about this Starbucks cup because it is inherently worthy of comment. I have something else in mind. I want to rant.
When I see that cup I think to myself, “That’s not right, that’s rude! Leaving your trash on someone else’s yard is just plain rude.”
I cannot think of a legitimate excuse for this rudeness. “Maybe he can’t take it with him.” No, he got it this far, he can take it with him. “Maybe we should provide a trash can.” No, on several levels.
This rudeness, like other expressions of rudeness, is enabled by anonymity. I assume we don’t know this person and he does not know us. It is easier to be rude when you don’t know the people you are treating rudely..
But there is another, deeper, reason for rudeness. At its core rudeness is an expression of arrogance because it says, in effect, “My time is more valuable than yours. You pick up my trash; I have other things to do.” Rudeness is wrong.
Given all that is wrong in this world, I admit rudeness may not be the problem of greatest magnitude. That said, rudeness is a matter of some importance to God. When we are rude to people we are violating God’s fundamental command to “Love your neighbor as yourself.” There many other ways to obey this command and many of those are probably more significant and life changing than the simple practice of not being rude. Nonetheless, if we value God’s command to love of neighbor as ourselves, then we need to understand that rudeness has the power to veto any expression of love.
Furthermore, rudeness is specifically condemned by God in His Word.In I Corinthians 13 the Apostle Paul’s gives us an elegant and lyrical description of love. But right into the middle of this beautiful description he inserts a simple, inelegant and unequivocal statement “Love is not rude.” It’s that simple.
Followers of Jesus should not be rude people. Rudeness is not only wrong according to God’s word, it also devalues our witness. There are many ways for us to be “good witnesses”, but surely one of simplest and more effective ways is simply by not being rude.
I’m done ranting. Now I want to rave.
Last summer, I was playing golf with three other guys from our church. We came to the 8th tee. Lying on the ground by the tee marker was a beer bottle. Clearly someone, earlier in the day, had drunk their beer and then tossed the bottle aside. Please understand, there was a wastebasket about 15, maybe 20, feet away and it was nearly full of empty pop cans, beer bottles and other trash. Obviously a lot of other people had traveled those 15-20 feet to the trash can.
One man in our group saw the beer bottle. He picked it up, took it over to the trash can and dropped it in. He could have left it there since the golf course pays people to pick up trash. Instead, he chose to pick it up and throw it away.
Loving our neighbor as ourselves is rarely about the big moments in life. It is almost always about the little details of the little moments of everyday life.
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I am going to tell you about a visit I made some years ago. It was a visit to see a woman named Dilly. You probably never knew Dilly so let me tell you about her.
Her real name was Adele, but she always went by Dilly because it was less formal as well as more descriptive. Dilly was definitely Dilly rather than Adele.
When Judi and I came to Shoreline Covenant a long time ago, Dilly and her husband Al were at the very center of the church’s life. The congregation had been through some very difficult times. The Prahinskis were among the small core of people who were there to welcome us when we arrived.
Al and Dilly were gifted “includers”. They would welcome visitors to the church with attention and warmth. They made newcomers feel welcomed and wanted. They opened their home and their hearts to others. I don’t think we’ve ever had anyone else quite so gifted in this way as Al and Dilly were.
They were also generous with their resources and effusive with their praise. Every baby seemed to be either the cutest or the brightest or the most beautiful or the most something. I was the greatest pastor and Judi was the loveliest pastor’s wife.
Al and Dilly were overflowing with the love of God, love of others and love of life. If they didn’t brighten a room when they walked in, it could not be brightened by anyone.
Then Al got sick with a form of acute anemia. He died not long after it was diagnosed. A;hough she went on with her life, lived independently, remained active at church, and maintained a busy schedule, I don’t think Dilly ever recovered from the loss of Al.
Then Dilly began to forget things, like turning off the burners on her stove. She became afraid of people and uncomfortable in public places. Life in general became difficult for her and she became difficult for others. She became confused, unapproachable, and often antagonistic. There was talk of Alzheimers. Over time she became more and more distant not only from friends and family, but also from her own true self.
She was moved into a nursing home and then into another.
When I saw her that day she was out in the hallway, tied into her wheelchair. She was gaunt, her eyes half closed, her mouth half opened. The front of her blouse was dirty as if she had spilled or drooled on herself. She didn’t know who I was; she hadn’t for a long time. If you had not seen Dilly in years, you might not recognize her. She was a faint and disfigured image of who she once was.
I stood by her for a moment and said “Hello Dilly.”
Then I bent down so I could whisper into her ear, what had become a kind of litany for us.
“Dilly, Jesus loves you.” She nods her head.
“Dilly, do you trust Jesus?” More nodding.
“Dilly, he loves you so much he died on the cross for you.”
In faint voice she says, “I didn’t know that” and weeps.
I continue, “Dilly, you are his child, you belong to him and someday soon he’s going to take you home to heaven where he has prepared a place for you.”
She nods her head again.
This all takes only a minute but in that moment it seems to me that Dilly has reached through her confused thinking and touched her bedrock, touched who she really is.
Our litany over, I leave, walking past other residents much like Dilly.
Sometimes when I visit Dilly I feel saddened, partly because I feel guilty for not visiting her more often, but mostly because of her condition and the condition of others in the nursing home.
But on that particular visit I felt strangely encouraged.
It occurred to me that I truly believed what I had said to Dilly. I had spoken the true conviction of my heart.
I am susceptible to uncertainties and misgivings. In the dark of the night I sometimes hear myself wondering “What if it’s not true?” For that reason, moments like that litany with Dilly are important to me. They help me listen better to the Spirit when he “testifies with our spirit that we are God’s children.”
If someone had been watching as I bent down to Dilly and softly spoke into her ear, they would have said I was speaking to Dilly. But if they could have seen me, really seen me, they would have seen that something else was going on, they would have known that my words were not just spoken for Dilly, they were spoken for me.
As I left the nursing home and walked to my car, I thought to myself, “If I ever become like Dilly I want someone to speak to me, the words I have spoken to Dilly today. I want someone to tell me that Jesus loves me and someday soon I’m going to be with him in heaven.”
I will need to hear those words then, just as I need to hear them now.
