My Valentine

I walk past a florist shop on my way to the train each morning. This morning they were loading a van up with flowers and balloons to be delivered. I couldn’t help but think about all those people who are going to be reminded that they are loved. It put a smile on my face.

This Valentines Day was one in which I held out no hopes of getting flowers. And I am more than okay with that. I rode to work listening to worship music thinking about God’s awesome love for me, and that is more than enough.

In fact that is a better gift than I had ever received on a Valentines Day when I did have a love in my life. On those days, I placed the desire of my heart into the hands of someone who couldn’t fill them. On this day, I placed it in God’s hand. Instead of finishing the day crestfallen, I am closing the evening joyous. Happy for my friends who got flowers today and are having romantic evenings. Filled with joy because I know I am loved by One whose love is not fickle, does not fade, can weather any of my storms—even the strongest tempest, and will always seek the best for me.

What more could I ask for?

So, today when people asked in their most sympathetic voice, “How are you handling today?” I say “never better!” Not to make them feel good, but because it’s the truth.

© Michelle Scott 2006

Perfection

I went to sleep around 10:00 last night. Ten o’clock on a SATURDAY night. Actually, I crawled into bed at nine, watched TV then went to sleep for 10 whole hours. Those who know me well know that this is Extremely Rare. You’re probably wondering if I’m sick or something of the sort. Nope. I was just exhausted.

This morning I was thinking about why I was so tired after a relatively uneventful Saturday. Then I realized, I’ve been trying to be perfect all week, and being perfect takes a lot of energy. I don’t know if I can keep this up.

For some reason I got inspired to do all these things I’ve been putting off. Instead of being smart about it and doing one thing a week, or even month. I did them all last week. Yup . . . I brought lunch every day, joined a gym (and went 3 times!), got a totally new haircut (have to do double-takes in the mirror), got a new phone and service, AND took a step toward my future as a writer. All this while getting up an hour earlier for work to make time for all these extra activities. Whew! All these good habits might just kill me.

© Michelle Scott 2006

Subway Prophet

It’s a rainy Friday morning here in New York and I am bone tired. I really didn’t feel like coming in to work as there’s a lot to do, but none of it is very interesting. Nevertheless I dragged my self out of bed (after a few extra hits on the snooze alarm). And went and stood in the rain waiting for the bus. If it wasn’t for a meeting today I would have toyed with the idea of calling in sick.

The subway seemed to move as slowly as I did this morning. It lurched and halted along. At some point I decided to just close my eyes and try to sleep just a little bit longer as the train ambled uptown. Somewhere between West 4th and 59th street what I call a “subway prophet” entered my car. Subway prophets are those who have a John the Baptist complex and feel the need to call all people in the transit system to repent. To be honest, I have no problems with evangelism in general. I do have problems when it is combative and theologically incorrect. So many times I have heard terrible things said in the name of Christ while riding public transportation. As a Christian, I am embarrassed and often angered because it is experiences like this that turns so many people off to even hearing who Jesus is. They think they know, but really they’ve been fed half-truths.

Well, back to today’s subway prophet . . . At first he is selling newspapers. I close my eyes and feign sleep because I know he will eventually come by me and ask me for money and that always makes me uncomfortable. So, to escape the discomfort I try to go somewhere else in my mind. But then he stops hocking newspapers and starts saying “Jesus is coming! Jesus is coming back!” I really close my eyes tight, then. Somewhere in my mind is this fear that in a fit of uncontrolled rage I will stand up and rebuke him for heresy. So I shut my eyes and hoped he would just go away and not say anything too terrible.

This man stands in front of a White passenger in a business suit (I know because I peeked) and says, “Jesus is coming! Jesus is coming back! And he’s gonna come back as a White man.” He laughs to himself and then almost mockingly says, “He’s coming back as a White man with blonde hair and blue eyes. That’s right, Jesus will come back as an executive in a suit—because no one would know him if he came back as a Black man. If he came back looking the way he really did with dark skin and wearing ragged clothes.”

Then the subway prophet went back to selling newspapers as if nothing had been said. I kept my eyes closed, willing my mind to sleep the rest of the way in to work. A minute later, he stopped near me and said, “You’d better wake up because Jesus is coming back. Open your eyes because he is coming.” My physical eyes did not open, but the ones in my heart did.

I got to thinking: How often do I shut my eyes to Jesus hoping he’ll come knocking at a more convenient time with easier things for me to do?

© Michelle Scott 2006

Desperate

(Forgive me if this sounds preachy.)

I got to thinking about Desperate Housewives and realized they’re not that different from me. In fact I think the show is so popular because it zones in on one big truth: We are all desperate people and will go to great lengths to get what we want.

I would go even further to say that we are all looking for the same thing; we’re just going about it differently. That thing is love.

Sometimes we think we’ve found it, but eventually it shows its imperfections and we walk away disappointed. We go through a lot to get this one thing to fill the void in all our hearts. We seek it in bottles and in pills. We look for it in other people. We try to find it in hobbies – hiking, cooking. We try to attract it through wonderfully complicated rituals: of looking right, acting right, owning all the right gizmos and gadgets.

We think if we drive the right car, earn the correct degrees, balance the scales and speak three languages – love will come our way. Satisfaction will come in a marriage, a house, 2.5 children and possibly a family dog and picket fence. Happiness will be here when the bills are paid and that vacation can be had. All these things may come to pass, yet the longing continues.

Yet our heart groans for more—tugging us toward something else. Something we cannot name nor grasp so we try to fill our lives with more and more of what we think will make us happy. We are like hamsters running on an eternal exercise wheel. We get nowhere in our quest because we have looked everywhere for the perfect love except for up.

It is only in God that we find the love that will not disappoint. It is only God’s love that will quench our thirst. This is the only “thing” that will satisfy the longings of our hearts. We feel the constant nagging of hunger because we have tried to fill our lives with the things that the world tells us will make us complete. We walk away with hunger pangs. It is only by feasting at God’s table are we truly satisfied.

© Michelle Scott 2006