I got kicked out of the library today.
I got kicked out of the library today. Well, I got kicked out of a specific section of the library- the teen section. I don’t even get carded at the grocery store anymore, so I knew I wouldn’t pass for a teenager when I decided to sit in that area to do some writing. This particular library didn’t just have a shelf or two of books geared toward teenagers— it had a whole sitting area, some cool sculptures hanging from the ceiling, rows of big windows letting in tons of natural light, and little white signs on each table: “Reserved for teens aged 12-17.”
It’d be easier if I could claim I didn’t see the signs, but the truth is I did. I just chose to interpret them through a specific lens. My own, which said “Yeah, but…”
Yeah, this is meant for teens, BUT it’s 9:15am on a Thursday morning, and schools haven’t let out for the summer yet.
Yeah, this table I’m sitting at says reserved, BUT there are plenty of other tables that teenagers could use.
I justified sitting there because a walk around the rest of the small library showed me that there were people in every other quiet work space, and I reasoned to myself that if any teenagers came and needed that space, I would gladly move.
So, my own mental grids interpreted the world around me— including rules that had been agreed upon by the owners of that space— and I acted accordingly. I was very pleasant to the library employee who asked me to leave that area, keeping all of those well-reasoned arguments to myself. But that didn’t stop me from grumbling in my heart.
How often do we do this in other areas of our lives? Maybe even when it comes to God’s rules.
I tried to write at a different table in the library, noting silently to myself that the four or five feet of distance from the reserved table I’d just vacated must have made a significant impact. But my brain couldn’t focus. So I walked out, passing the worker who actually had only been doing her job, and wondering if she noticed I was leaving. Did she notice and feel a little bit bad?
I’m exposing all my internal pettiness in hopes that you will be encouraged by the loving correction God gave me in response to it. When I left the library I drove to a beautiful park nearby. I’m there now, currently sitting on a bench surrounded by Black Eyed Susans and fragrant lilac bushes, feeling the sun warm my shoulders and hearing the birds swap songs.
Moments ago I saw a little boy lose a balloon. His sister was having photos taken in her cap and gown. The “Congrats Grad!” balloon he had been entrusted with must have slipped his grasp. I watched him crane his neck as the balloon slowly made its way up through tree branches, finally breaking free and rising steadily into the cloud-speckled, blue sky. The little boy jumped with all his might toward the balloon. He stretched his arms out and even literally yelled, “Come back! Come back!” I felt sad for him, knowing that it was impossible for him to get that balloon back. The helium inside it can only function as it was created to do, and his only recourse was to accept that it was gone forever. Thankfully his parents were kind and there were several other balloons for the pictures, but I was struck by how similar I am to that little boy.
All of his “Yeah, BUT”s would not have changed the course of that balloon. All of his earnest pleading and self-justified reasons why it should come back would never undo the simple reality of untethered, helium-filled mylar rising higher and higher. God is showing me that I have let my own lenses or mental grids shape how I see the world far more than I have submitted to his reality. Especially in regards to how I use my words when I am hurt or angry.
“Let no corrupting talk come out of your mouths, but only such as is good for building up, as it fits the occasion, that it may give grace to those who hear.” Eph. 4:19
Yeah, but he was wrong to say that to me! I’m allowed to defend myself.
"Let your speech always be gracious, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how you ought to answer each person.” Col. 4:6
Yeah, but she clearly assumes the worst about me. She deserves to know how that feels.
“Remind them to be submissive to rulers and authorities, to be obedient, to be ready for every good work, to speak evil of no one, to avoid quarreling, to be gentle, and to show perfect courtesy toward all people.” Titus 3:1-2
Yeah, but a lot of rules are just plain dumb. And being gentle doesn’t work in the real world. I’m not a pushover!
Can I be shocked when I trust my flesh instead of God’s Word, and then it has harmful consequences? Can I jump and stretch out my arms and cry to the trust people had in me, “Come back! Come back!”
I can’t undo those hurts I cause others or go back in time and have a do-over. But I’m so thankful that my Heavenly Father is in the business of redeeming and restoring all things. I can trust that his corrections, like the rod and staff of a gentle shepherd, are for my good. I can run to him in real repentance, instead of hiding from him (and other people) in shame. I can genuinely apologize and forgive wounds I’ve received, trusting with humility that our relationship can grow forward—maybe even be stronger than it was before. I can ask God to help me remember what I have been forgiven of, to look at the grace he lavished on me while I was still dead in my rebellious sin. And I can let go more and more of these old ways of thinking and seeing the world.
We don’t have to fight for seats at tables we think are best for us. We have been seated with Christ (Ephesians 2), and we can trust that he not only knows far more than we, he also loves us more and better than we could ever love ourselves. We don’t have to bend or break rules in order to get the most comfortable spot with the best view. We can follow him and actually step out into the sunshine.
“So then let us cast off the works of darkness and put on the armor of light…put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the flesh, to gratify its desires.” (Romans 13:12, 14)
Make no provision for the flesh, brothers and sisters. I am first in line to need this reminder, and I’m so grateful that God used my foolish seat selection at a library to provide it for me. Let's let go of all of our “Yeah, but...” arguments. Let them float away, and grab instead the nail-scarred hand of our Savior and King. He is so much better.
