Snow Days and Arrogance

Despite the tenuous theology, sometimes I can't help but wonder if The Exorcism of Emily Rose was onto something creepy about 3:00 a.m.

Several nights ago I stayed up late to work on a horrendous pile of homework. Sometime around 3:00 a.m. I finally finished up and prepared to go to sleep. But by then I was wide-eyed with adrenaline, too overtired to actually get some rest, so I started talking with a good friend of mine. He and I stayed up for several more hours, discussing our lives and future plans, our conversation punctuated only by trips to the window to watch the snow fall.

Snow. Something of a rarity these days. Here in Tennessee we don't necessarily enjoy the proper climate for the lovely white reminders of God's grace--okay, okay, perhaps I go too far in my praise! But, still, I love snow, and since I moved down here from New York I've very much missed winter weather conditions, which are not exactly par for the course in the South. Indeed, my friend was nearly giddy with excitement to even see snow at all.

I couldn't help but laugh. All my life I've heard stories of how poorly adapted Southerners are to snow, particularly in driving situations, and what an infrequent and strange wonder a real winter looks like to them, and I suppose I've developed some sort of snowy elitism. No, that's too innocuous--arrogance is closer to the mark.

That jarring realization hit me like a bare-knuckle punch from Mickey O'Neil. But somehow, unlike his opponents in the movie Snatch, I wasn't down for the count. Instead I tried to brush it off as though it were only a light dusting of snow, much like the accumulation outside of the dorm.

In fact, I was so good at ignoring the feeling that I went to sleep confident that the college would follow the example of the area high schools and close down for the day. Silly Southerners, I thought. They know nothing about what winter really looks like. But, hey, I'll take a snow day. Time to kick back and relax!

Certain that I would have a free day, I stayed awake until 6:30 a.m., turned off my roommate's alarm (I didn't want him to wake up earlier than he had to), and burrowed into my bed, pulling the covers over my head for a well-deserved rest.

When I woke up that afternoon, I discovered that not only had I missed three classes, but I caused my roommate to also miss a class. Furthermore, since classes continued as scheduled, all the homework that I had worked on was now useless; the teacher refuses to take late work.

But God is so gracious, abounding in mercy, overflowing in love.

I set aside the day for fasting and prayer, repented of my arrogance, and sought His direction for my life in regards to several major, highly pressing decisions that I needed to make. By the end of the day I had my answer, and that night I was able to rest assured that even my stupidity and rashness were no match for God's 'unbending mercy,' as Cry, The Beloved Country so powerfully put it, which engulfs our weakness and covers over our disgrace.

But something else struck me about this misadventure. If I have problems with arrogance within my own country, with people who are mostly of my culture, then how do I expect to reach out to other cultures? Sure, I've learned a lot about contextualizing the message and identifying with other peoples, and about the missional aspect of my faith, and about more abstract concepts of E0 - E3 evangelism, but what good do they do me if I'm still an arrogant parochial jingoist?

Within this questioning I heard my Father's still, quiet voice: My grace is sufficient. My strength is made perfect in your weakness. The only response I could muster was a brief prayer. 'Father, help me to love as You love.'

Praise be to the King, the Savior God, desire of nations and souls, who wrestles with the sinner's heart and ransoms broken humanity!

Shalom.


Grace and peace,
Andrew <><