1 Peter 3:8-12
Finally, all of you, live in harmony with one another; be sympathetic, love as brothers, be compassionate and humble. Do not repay evil with evil or insult with insult, but with blessing, because to this you were called so that you may inherit a blessing. 10For, "Whoever would love life and see good days must keep his tongue from evil and his lips from deceitful speech. He must turn from evil and do good; he must seek peace and pursue it. For the eyes of the Lord are on the righteous and his ears are attentive to their prayer, but the face of the Lord is against those who do evil.
4 Free tickets and great seats - 0 Dollars.
1 Parking Coupon - 0 dollars.
T-shirt at the gate – 0 dollars.
Wearing spilled aaaaand recycled beer home from the ballpark – PRICELESS.
We were the recipients of a wonderful blessing from my wife’s boss (and our friends) the Moreno’s who gave us free tickets to the Texas Rangers baseball game last Friday night. We made it a guy’s night out so my son Caleb, my dad, and my uncle Jim all went with me to the game.
It was a fun night in spite of a poor showing by the home team. After a 5-3 loss the Rangers decided to celebrate with a fireworks display. Since I had to rise early for work on Saturday morning I suggested we skip the show and head on home.
As we descended the stadium escalator, it was evident traffic would be light as most folks appeared to stay for the pyrotechnics. Much to my chagrin, we were met by a State Trooper and stadium personnel at the entrance to our parking lot who informed us the Fire Marshall had closed it off until completion of the fireworks show. Great.
We tried to make the best of it and took some pics with our cell phones and ooohed and aaaahed with everyone else. Finally the show ended and we were allowed to proceed to our vehicles. So much for the head start and light traffic.
We had positioned ourselves on what we thought was the row on which we parked. After looking for a couple of minutes I decided we were a couple of rows south and headed that direction. I spotted my truck in the distance and called out to my companions that I had done so.
As I was making the trek toward my truck, at about 30 yards I noticed the silhouette of a shadowy figure standing next to the back passenger door on the driver’s side. My first thought was “look at this drunk, he’s waiting at the wrong truck for someone to let him in. I kept walking and begin to think maybe this guy was actually trying to break INTO my vehicle. THEN it DAWNED on me…
SON OF A **B#+CH**!!!!!!! He’s pissing on my truck!!! I took off into a dead run with the intent of way-laying him when I got there. It is truly amazing how many thoughts can pass through ones head in a very few short seconds. When plotting my strategy of what kind of justice I would inflict when I reached the peeing perp the progression produced 3 possibilities:
· Cold-cock him in the jaw with a right hook. This was my first and favorite option, but consequences could be rather servere up to and including arrest and law suit.
· Bust him with a head-first tackle analogous to a linebacker hitting an unsuspecting quarterback. The downside to this approach would be that I would wear his urine home all-over the front of me as well as likely having a good bit of road-rash from the asphalt and ensuing scuffle.
· Launch the punk by shoving him backward into oblivion and pray a vehicle pass by at just the right moment so he could land “softly” upon their side-view mirror...
I chose option 3 which proved to be somewhat effective with one small strategic weakness. When I arrived in a full run and shoved him, I had cups in my left hand, so it was a right-hand heavy shove. Well, he was standing at a 45 degree angle toward my truck, so this served to spin him toward me as he flew backward.
The unpleasant sensation of pee going up my leg was quickly realized. Did I mention I was wearing shorts? And with gravity apparently playing for the other team all night, the unpleasant sensation of urine traveling back down my leg was also quickly realized. Nice.
As “dipstick” struggled to his feet with his over-sized shorts around his ankles and “dumb-stick” in his hand, he informed me that we would be “going at it” once he got his pants on. I told him I was more than happy to oblige. I turned to my uncle and told him to get the cops while I set the cups down on the hood of my truck in preparation for the dance-with-the-dumbass. I’m not sure if it was the rage on my face or the fact that they knew they were in trouble, but piss-boy’s buds convinced him it was time to make their get-away.
I took out my cell phone to take a picture of their license plate all the while displaying the love of Jesus for them in my angry tone. I suggested they stop the truck and let me lay hands on him again. They refused, but the water spigot did lean out of the window in a display of adolescent wisdom and asked, “Why are you harassing a bunch of teenagers just out having a good time?!!” "Excuse me? Are you kidding?!!! You're a moron!"
About that time up rode two of Arlington’s finest on bicycles. Officer Rollins hopped off of his bike and pushed me in the chest while yelling,
“Don’t put your hands on me!”
[I was thinking “officer, if I could direct your attention to the jumbo-tron for a replay, you will notice that it was you who pushed me.”]
I yelled back at him, “I didn’t touch you! (Pointing to the now stopped truck) That @$$hole over there pissed on my truck!”
“Sir! Do you have any identification!?”
Noticing that the other officer (female) had extracted the fountain of youth from his get-away vehicle I calmly said, “Yes.” So I handed him my license.
“Now tell me what happened.” (In his now calm voice)
(You may not have been paying attention earlier when I mentioned this, but) “That @$$hole over there pissed on my truck!” (I don’t think I have used the term “piss” more in my entire life combined, than I did that night - probably because I was really pissed off – and on.)
“Show me your truck.”
I escorted the officer to my truck and showed him the puddle next to it and the still wet stain on the nurf-bar (step). He apologized for getting in my face initially and informed me he would “write him a citation for pissing in public.” Great – now I have him saying it. So that was very little consolation to me. I wanted vengeance and justice. I wanted to kick his ass. I wanted to inflicted pain on him then pee on him. I wanted all things non-loving and non-redemptive.
The Lord has been dealing with me about the concept of redemption lately. How can I be a redemptive force in the lives of others? What must I do to be saved from me? Do I really believe in “turning the other cheek”? Do I really love others like He does? What do my actions tell others? What is the balance of showing love and being a doormat for others to use to wipe their feet?
In two separate venues recently I’ve heard others speak on Jesus being the image of the Father. I’m still being conformed into His image and likeness. I’m obviously not there yet.
Most people would certainly have no problem with my actions of unrighteous urination indignation that night. The onlookers were plentiful and one lady ready to assist in taking him down.
The nerve of this idiot! How he could expose himself in such a setting with women and children passing by on the way to their cars? Justifiable homicide would have been well, um, justifiable. Apparently there was a lack of evidence on the whole matter of an indecent exposure charge.
So – what would you have done?
I’m not sure a do-over would have rendered different results for me, but I’m seeking God on what I should have done or could have done better. On the ride home the consensus was that I had done the "right thing." All I can say is it didn’t feel like it. Maybe it was my attitude, maybe my self-awareness, or the defense of my pride and property. Whatever it was, it wasn’t redemptive, at least that I could tell. I will say this however, it was an exciting trip to the ballpark for sure.