Dangerous Theology

My wife and I frequent a wonderful Mexican restaurant in Carrollton called La Salsa. I've always been the guy who says that all Mexican food is the same as the next, but I feel comfortable telling you that La Salsa makes the best burrito and enchilada that I've ever consumed (and I've eaten a lot of burritos and enchiladas). If you're ever out in Carrollton, I would love to take you to La Salsa, and watch you pay for the meal.

One night, my wife and I decided we would go on a spontaneous date, which was nice because we were heading to La Salsa. We sit down in our usual section (that's right, we have a usual section), and we notice that there's this couple sitting next to us. Now, the reason we paid any attention to this couple is because they have a young child, and my wife has a penchant for noticing children four and under.

As I quickly devoured the chips and salsa in front of me-and my wife tried to keep pace-I noticed that the son of the couple seated across from us was very talkative. It was slightly amusing listening to him describe the contents of his lunch and occasionally chiming in on his parents conversations. However, by the time my taco, burrito, and enchilada had arrived, his cute anecdotes had deteriorated into frequent and long-lasting screams. Now, when I say screams, I'm talking about squealing at an octave that only bats can reach and dogs can hear.

I spent the next few minutes eating my meal in fury, upset about the fact that this family had to come here on the one night that I decided to take my wife out. I was upset with the parents because clearly they had no concern for my comfort. I was upset with the child because he wasn't polite enough to sit through a meal quietly. I was upset with the La Salsa staff because they had sat this rude family in my section. I was upset with God because He should have made this family desire some other food besides Mexican on that particular night.

But then God whispered five dangerous words in my mind, "consider others better than yourself". I immediately recognized this words from Philippians, but that wasn't enough for me. For the next ten minutes I politely pretended to listen to my wife as she spoke beautifully and intelligently about something of importance, I'm sure, as I wrestled with God in my head.

I knew God commanded me to consider others better than myself, but did that mean that I was supposed to like it? Was I supposed to just accept the fact that this family had ruined my evening with my wife? Was I supposed to supposed to be okay with the fact that my one night out with my wife was ruined?

No, I wasn't. I was supposed to be thankful for the fact that God had given me the ability to take my beautiful wife out for dinner. I was supposed to be thankful for God bringing such an amazing woman into my life. I was supposed to think of this family's needs above my own. I was supposed to consider how uncomfortable they must feel knowing that their child was causing a scene. I was supposed to consider them better than myself.

I have to take a break here to give you a little context to this story. Leading up to that night God had been convicting me of my lack of humility (which is the not-so-humble way of saying my arrogance and pride). I knew that the area of spiritual growth that I needed to focus on was the fact that I was not very humble, and God calls us to humbly submit to Him and to others. So, I began to pray that God would make me humble, but I didn't realize that God doesn't make us humble, He breaks our pride and we have no other choice but to be humble. I had even prayed that morning that God would begin to make me more humble.

Finally God, like a wonderful storyteller, brought me around to the point of this whole situation. He reminded me of the beginning of that verse from Philippians. "In humility, consider others better than yourself". I immediately laughed out loud, which startled most people in the room (including my wife). God chose to thrust humility on me by forcing me to stare at my pride face-to-face.

In my pride the only person I could focus on was myself. I was upset that my night had been ruined with my wife at my favorite restaurant, paid for with money spent from my bank account. I had never thought to consider others better than myself. I had never thought to ask, "how can I serve this person in this moment?" Or better, "how can I serve God in this moment?"

Let me warn you though, if you begin to accept this theology as truth, it can be very dangerous. To truly be humble, you have to value others more than you value yourself. In order to do that, you have to put their needs above your own. This can be very dangerous teaching, because that means that:

The couple with an unruly child is more important than you

The child who want stop screaming is more important than you

The person who cuts in front of you in traffic is more important than you

The person who gossips about you is more important than you

The person who mocks you is more important than you

The person you can't stand is more important than you

The person who always disagrees with you is more important than you

The homeless person is more important than you

The drunk driver is more important than you

The murderer is more important than you

The terrorist is more important than you

We don't get the luxury of choosing who is more important than us. In Christ we are called to be humble, and in humility we are called to consider others better than ourselves. We know that we consider others better than ourselves, when we choose to serve them in all situations. Who are you struggling to serve?