Twelve Lessons Learned on Vacation: Part 2

A few days ago I posted the "Twelve Lessons Learned on Vacation," and I said I'd likely be expanding on the points I only outlined there. Since my brother-in-law told me he appreciated #8, I'll start and focus there:

8. I’m still a great sinner; and Jesus is still a great Savior.

Who goes on vacation expecting to see more sin in his or her heart? Well, I know it's there, and wasn't surprised that it cropped up. No, no, it's not just the presence of remaining indwelling sin in me that surprised me. It's being made deeply sensible of this when there was no daily press, and therefore I did not have my usual excuses. That was devastating (and, ultimately, liberating!). You know, under daily pressures it's easy to make allowances for low-grade irritation or grumbling or . . . . But I was on vacation. And not even close to having to leave to return to the pressures of my life.

So, for example, I found myself defaulting to American (and sinful) ways of thinking and reacting again and again. One illustration shall suffice for my purpose here (I'm not claiming to have only sinned once!).

Em and I went to dinner one evening wanting to take a dip in the pool right after we had eaten. So we set our two towels on two chairs by the pool, which was well within view. By the time we finished eating, however, our towels had disappeared. So naturally we went to the front desk and told the staff, assured we'd be enjoying a nice cool dip after getting prompt service. At the front desk we could even see our towels on the floor behind the desk. But after telling the pleasant young woman at the front desk and requesting fresh towels, we were told of their policy: "Lost towels are the patrons responsibility, and so you'll have to pay for them."

She didn't understand. Obviously. So I had my wife speak to her in Spanish.
Surely she'll understand in her native tongue (never mind that this woman happened to speak perfectly good English). "We just set our towels down one hour ago to eat," we told her, I more than a little piqued. "Some staff member must have picked up the towels, supposing someone had forgotten them for the night." (It was about 9:00 p.m.) But, to my great astonishment, the Spanish did not make it any clearer to this (now I was beginning to think) thick and incompetent woman. Since the Spanish didn't work, I took over with plain-speaking English, and I told her with no little irritation their service was terrible. I could even see our towels. To no avail. She remained unmoved.

It would be to no one's edification if I tried to recount at length my "righteous" indignation. So I'll summarize: I asked for a manager. I demanded the towels. I expressed my incredulity at the worst service I'd ever had on the planet. I mean, they existed, at that moment (it was their job), to serve me. And I've got rights, you know. And I had a tight case on top of it. Stupid foreigners who don't get sound logic and reasoned thought! In a decent Western court, it would've been clear to any fair-minded impartial judge.

(In case you missed the irony, I'll spell it out: guess who the stupid foreigner was who didn't understand?)

By this time, the woman behind the desk had gotten uneasy and nervous. I was threatening to report the service to her manager. (I can imagine how poorly these employees are treated. To my sober reflection, the problems we had from time to time were undoubtedly management issues, not due to staff incompetence or laziness).

To keep this unsavory story from getting too long, briefly here's how it unfolded. I demanded towels. She gave them to us. I went to the room rather irked and miffed. Shortly we feel asleep after I had ranted a bit about the whole unfair affair.

Then came the morning, Bible reading, and prayer. And new mercies (Lam. 3:22-23). God met me in my sin. I grew convicted. And convicted of two things mainly: first, I had sinned against Heaven; and, second, Heaven had sent my Pardon. Christ crucified! Full atonement, can it be, that Thou, my God, shouldst die for me?! Moved and softened, I purposed to apologize and ask for the forgiveness of that employee. Putting her hand on my arm (as Latinos are wont to be tender and tactile), she received my apology and request for forgiveness, saying it was alright. Later, right before we left, I also thanked her for her help and gave her the biggest tip we'd given anyone there. Jesus was at work in me. I didn't produce that repentance. I produced the sin. Jesus procured the pardon, and provided the power to repent (and provides the power to continue to repent and make progress).

You may have noticed above that I said I had sinfully defaulted to "American" ways. I don't say this to shift blame away from my sinful heart onto my nationality, nor to say that all that is American is sinful. I only want to point out how exposed I was. I found myself reflexively sinning in ways Americans are especially prone to sin (since we've got rights and are owed everything from everyone), rather than reflexively responding biblically in a Christ-like fashion. I'm a Christian, not an American, first. I'm a citizen of heaven, not of America, first. That's where I get my identity from and the model for my behavior. But in Mexico I realized how far I fall short of the glory of God, and how far I have yet to go.

What was called for surely was a lot of things, which I could enumerate. But mainly I was convicted that I lack meekness (Matt. 5:5). And I say this aware that much of the wrong I perceived was done to me was just that, only perceived. Well, so what is meekness, anyway, you ask? Read the passion narratives, how Jesus was unjustly sentenced to a criminal's death, railroaded in a kangaroo trial. Yet he bore up under the injustice, trusting and obeying his Father, without giving people their due, suffering according to the will of God.

Regarding point #8, this was, I think, the chief lesson my Savior taught me in my sin in Mexico at the beginning of the year of grace 2012. Hallelujah! What a Savior! Hallelujah! What a friend!