If God Gave Up

Drunks have a soft spot in my heart. Jolly drunks break my heart but make me smile. If it wasn’t for the fact that I knew he was drunk and I knew my friend Peter had no idea; our five minute interaction with the hitch hiker would’ve been quickly forgotten.

Just another day in the life of the idiotic airhead who makes her loved ones terrified to leave her to make her own decisions.

It mattered to this guy to get picked up. It mattered even more when we discovered he knew me. Being able to drop names and relate dramas that I’ve known about for almost two years made him relax. He told me things I never would have heard from him when he was sober.

When it was just Peter and I in the car 10 minutes later, Peter said something like, “He doesn’t understand how to start over.” Though neither one of us claimed hopelessness, we understood our passenger was caged in it and didn’t want help getting free.

Just the comprehension of our friend’s hopelessness made me mentally throw my hands up in the air. “He’s unreachable, Lord. He doesn’t trust anyone he can see; how could he ever trust You?”

With a grin in His voice I could almost hear God say, “Once, you were the self-proclaimed wretch who swore she’d never be forgiven. I didn’t give up on you. You came back.

“You were just as deep in the mire of your sin as this man is. Remember the distance I ran to bring you Home.”

A DNR of Chivalry and Respect

The majority of chivalry died a long time ago.

Then again, so did the characteristic of simply respecting men.

These last two weeks have been filled with so much of Murphy’s Law for my comedic life, I’ve stopped trying to understand what God is doing. I’m constantly stuck between the cross-fire of tears and laughter as “playing it cool” races away in my rearview mirror hand-in-hand with circumstances out of my control.

Regardless of what those moments were, most of them were circumstances where I needed a man to rescue me… and I groaned through every opportunity. Both humorous and terrifying, I kept finding myself with my only option being letting a man in my life take care of me. I’m ashamed to say I struggled with hating it.

Most of the guys, bless their hearts, had delayed reactions. I got a few calls from friends with the adorable “… so; I could’ve done better today.” Yep, ya could have, Sweet Friends. But then again, I could have done better myself.

Can I just make the pathetically whiney excuse that, “I grew up in Alaska”? Seriously. Why ask a man to cover you in the rain when you’re the one replacing the tire? (I’ve never done that, by the way, but you get the idea.) Why wait for a man to rescue you when you’ve been taught you’re just fine on your own and you can survive?

This has been a long time in coming as the idea of living in community and being independent have constantly chaffed against each other in my heart. Medically, I needed the men in my life more than I’ve ever needed them before. Physically, they couldn’t fix anything but it was good for them to try.

Am I loving them as Christ would have me love them by not letting them step up? Am I loving them as Christ would have me love them by not teaching them how?

I cringe at the idea of chivalry simply because as the generations fly by, the concept is more of an ego booster for the men and a dreaded awkward conversation for the women.

But what if that’s not what Chivalry is? What if respecting men has nothing to do with women being the “weaker sex”?

What if? What if through those two concepts God is simply nudging us and reminding us to love each other? As men and women, that command is going to look differently in our respective characteristics. What if chivalry and respect have nothing to do with our own character?

What if Chivalry and Respect are engraved in us as Christians to benefit and encourage each other and leave our personal preferences out of the picture?