Hiding place

Sometimes I half joke that you need to be a vulture to live in the Bay Area.  Need a parking spot?  You must circle around and around until you can swoop in and snap up a spot from an equally desperate driver.  Need something at the grocery store?  You must edge your way through the aisles with your pointy little elbows.  Need an apartment?  You must compete with 40 other eager beaver applicants for one availability.  Need to get on the BART train?  You must not let the wheelchair-bound and elderly get in your way.  Need to get off at that exit ramp?  You must wedge your car into the lane next to yours, even if there's not even an inch opening for you.  Need a promotion or raise?  You must grab it for yourself, as it will not be handed to you.

Maybe I sound a little bitter or negative.  Usually each day is a blessing and adventure, but sometimes I just get overwhelmed and exhausted.  I know I am not a naturally assertive person.  In the name of survival I can be somewhat assertive, however.  Thankfully I did have training in assertiveness during my time in China, which is once again being used here in California.  I'm a complacent, easy-going soul who will fight for something if I really want it or need it.  But it can be exhausting and soul-sapping.  I miss people who don't mow you over if you're in their way.  I miss easily accessible parking.  I miss walking down the street without getting asked for money every five feet.  I miss strangers and friends alike asking how you truly are doing.

A couple of weeks ago, I walked to our office window and peered down at the controlled chaos four stories below us.  An ambulance had pulled up to the sidewalk where an elderly lady was sprawled out on the ground by the bus stop, not moving.  Several people sat or stood on a bench, looking on indifferently.  Other people just walked on by.  I was moved by how alone she looked there on the cold, unforgiving pavement that was coated with months of Oakland grime.  Did she have family?  Could anyone hold her hand?  Was she scared?  And then she was whisked away in the ambulance.  People's lives continued.  My own life continued.      

That scene shook me up for some reason... More than the other scenes of begging or carjackings or people screaming at the top of their lungs at each other in the middle of the street.  Most of all I get afraid for my own attitude and heart.  At the end of the day I consider how or if I truly loved people.  Or I wonder if in my haste for survival, I was the one who did the trampling or behaved unkindly and insensitively.  I ponder if when I put on my armor of defensiveness I prevent life-giving interactions and conversations from taking place. 

Sometimes it hurts too much to care, especially when you feel helpless to bring about any change.  Lord, forgive me for my hardened heart!  As I asked God for forgiveness this morning, I then read:

"I confessed all my sins to you and stopped trying to hide my guilt.  I said to myself, 'I will confess my rebellion to the Lord.' And you forgave me!  All my guilt is gone.  Therefore, let all the godly pray to you while there is still time, that they may not drown in the floodwaters of judgment.  For you are my hiding place; you protect me from trouble. You surround me with songs of victory."  Psalm 32:5-7

As I head back out into the world from my quiet little apartment, I can rest in the knowledge that I am forgiven, I have all I need, and I am surrounded by songs of victory-- all for the sake of the Gospel.