Jesus doesn’t seem to care much about my convenience. I mean, really, I was in the middle of glowering at someone, and that’s the time he picked to speak up.
*nudge* Hey, Ashley, I need to remind you of something. (Isn’t He polite?)
Not now, Jesus. I’m busy glowering. This person needs to know how upset I am with them, so I’m going to glower. It’s going to bore a hole in their soul.
Then he proceeds to ever-so-gently remind me that glaring at people never changes their hearts. They might deserve the dirty look, but it won’t change anything. And if I’m doing everything I do as if working for the Lord and not for men anyways, why would I do it with such a mean look on my face?
There’s that little voice in the back of my mind that pushes me to set aside my feelings about the current situation and assume the Jesus attitude.
It’s hard. I don’t think I got all the way there. I got on the gladiator sandals and the traditional beard but didn’t make it to the toga-type garb and sash that every artistic depiction of Jesus is wearing. I think that Jesus appreciates the tries though. I think that He’s helping me put on His likeness.
I think He’s still shaping me, clothing me, forming me. I don’t think He’s given up hope that I’ll respond like He does in situations like this in the future.
He’s giving me his eyes, the ones that don’t glower, the ones that see beloved humans instead of trouble-makers and annoyances.
Humanly, I’m an adult. Spiritually, I’m still a child. Hence, the simple lessons like be like Jesus.