Yesterday afternoon I went to pick up my mentee in Homewood, and on the car ride to my house we had a great conversation. We talked about life, girls (of course... he's in middle school), school, family, video games, and the mentoring weekend that is coming up on Saturday. I had anticipated this time with him for most of the week because Julie and I had planned to include him in our family traditions in Christmas decorating at our house. It's always a fun time, and I was really looking forward to it.
I had ordered two pizzas on the drive, and we stopped in at Luciano's to pick up the family dinner (nothing goes with Christmas decorating like pizza). With pizzas in hand we sat back in the car and wouldn't you know... it wouldn't start. I have to say my mentee stayed calmer than I, and a great opportunity to model patience passed me by. I was agitated. I was agitated because I don't know anything about cars. I was agitated that I drive a car with 228,000 miles on it. I was agitated that this happened in the middle of winter. Sorry sight that I was, I nevertheless popped the hood and did what every man tries to do. I faked it. I was fronting big time, pretending to tinker with wires and such knowing full well that I couldn't fix it. It was pretty funny in retrospect. With the hood up and my mentee still sitting in the passenger seat of the car, he couldn't see me and I was pulling stuff and punching stuff in the engine and making mean faces. Then I would pause to peak my head out to the side and give him a smile and say "I'll figure it out, don't worry!" As if "SUPER MENTOR!" had just entered the parking lot. Then I would go back behind the hood even more frustrated and start muttering things like "stupid car" under my breath. Then, I'd pop my head out again to nod assuringly that I had the situation under control, only to start shaking the whole car the next time I went behind the hood. I was definitely not in control. A little voice seemed to whisper in my ear, "See... it can't be done Bryan. Why are you even trying? This kid sees right through you. You're so stupid."
With my masculinity fully robbed, I decided that I needed to call for help. Since Julie was busy with the girls, I called my dad and asked him to come and pick up my mentee to take him to our house with the pizzas and wait for me to get the car jumped or towed. Dad was kind enough to do that, so then it was just me waiting for an hour in my car for AAA to arrive.
For some reason this stage in life doesn't afford much down time, or in this case, an hour with absolutely nothing planned to do. What would you do in your car for an hour with nothing to do while waiting for a tow truck? I'd like to say that I prayed, or read my Bible, or just spent quiet time in the Lord's presence. Instead, I checked emails on my phone until I got thumb cramps. Then I played a few games of Bubble Burst, checked my fantasy football squads, and I even managed to get caught up on world events on the NY Times website. I was so immersed in my 2 inch by 2 inch virtual world (gotta love the Treo) that I managed to tune out my unfortunate circumstances. Isn't that how life always seems to work? We humans will turn to any number of things to avoid facing reality, like distraction, food, drinking, or TV.
Anyway, when the AAA guy showed up I was resigned to let him take over control of the situation. The problem was, he couldn't fix my car. I had a bad battery, and it was so dead that he couldn't jump it. It was like that scene with Billy Crystal in the The Princess Bride where he describes the difference between "mostly dead" and "all dead." Apparently, my battery was "all dead." If it was "mostly dead" he would have been able to jump it and I could have driven it to a battery repair shop to get a new battery. But no, my battery was definitely "all dead." For a nominal fee... $125... he would be gracious enough to send out one of the other workers at their shop who specialized in replacing batteries. Once again, I'm agitated with myself because I have no idea how much a car battery costs (let alone how much it costs for someone to drive to me to fix it when I'm stranded in a pizza joint parking lot at night). Naturally, I fronted again and said, "that sounds like a good price, man. Let's go with it." No questions, just me pretending like I was in control. You'd think, "Um... how much does a car battery usually cost?" would have been a good question to ask.
So I waited for another 30 minutes (I'm thinking, "There goes all of my time with my mentee, not to mention family bonding time over Christmas decorations"). If I knew anything about my stock portfolio (I think I have one), I would have checked that out on my phone while I was waiting. Instead, I went back to the fantasy football sites. I was demolished last week in one of these leagues by a certain young North Way pastor who shall remain nameless. Let's just say he failed to show humility and restraint in his victory. So it was a top priority that I set my team correctly for this week. I managed to waste 30 more minutes, and the battery replacement expert showed up.
When I'm at church or doing something LAMP-related, I'd like to think that I do my best to engage people relationally through meaningful conversation and good, active listening. When my car's broken down and the "all dead" battery replacement expert tries to engage me in conversation while he's fixing it... let's just say I acted like a distracted jerk. This is definitely an integrity issue with me. Valuing people is not something that I should be able to turn on and turn off, but I totally checked out in this situation. I sat in my car for a while checking more emails, and I wasted an opportunity to get to know someone new. I did check in every ten minutes or so, but only long enough to fake my way through conversations about car parts that I knew nothing about. It took him about the rest of my usually alloted mentoring time to fix the car, so by the time I got home it was time for me to take my mentee back to Homewood.
It started out as kind of a quiet car ride back to Homewood... much more subdued than the animated conversation we had going on the way to my house before the pizza stop. I gave him a good 10 minutes of silent treatment after he dared to start out the ride back by saying, "Is your car going to make it back to Homewood?" Yes, I'm a grown man, but I'm sure I still reserve the right to give a 13 year old the "silent treatment". But just then, in ending the awkward 10 minute silence, he asked, "Bryan, are you afraid to die?" My thoughts, which had to this point been with the evening's battery episode, came crashing back down to the real world. I thought, "Where did this question come from?" Here I was fully immersed in my pity party, and he draws me out with a deep question. What to do from here? Thankfully, I decided to relinquish control of the evening and let God take over (finally!). Some integrity may have even kicked in. My initial response, "Well, that question was out of the blue, but I think I have an answer. I'm not afraid to die because I know I'll be with God in heaven when I die. This is because Jesus in in my heart." What followed next was a review of the gospel and a great discussion about the meaning of life. When I dropped him off at his house and started driving back home (yes the car made it), it was as if another quiet voice was whispering in my ear, "Bryan, you do have what it takes. Well done." From my own human rationale, I had chalked the evening up as a waste. But God has a way of showing up when we least expect it. Only He is in control.
I'm sure this DMin program will continue to be a huge learning curve for me, and I'm thankful that I'm a work in progress. This is a journey, and I love that God is never done with me. I hope I can some day be a leader who ALWAYS leads with integrity and authenticity, one who understands that God is always present and in control.
1 comment:
This is a great reminder of God using even us. I know nothing about cars either...or the prices of batteries.
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