I am crucified with Christ: nevertheless I live; yet not I, but Christ liveth in me: and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by the faith of the Son of God, who loved me, and gave himself for me. (Gal. 2:20, KJV)
You died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God. (Col. 3:3, CEB)
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On Monday afternoon, as I was waiting to board the bus to return home from Chicago, I walked across the street from the south side station to McDonalds. I had to go to the bathroom…bad. It’s not in the greatest neighborhood, and I noticed a sign on the wall that the bathroom was locked because of vandalism; one had to ask at the counter for someone to open the door. So I stood at the side of the counter and the young clerk looked rather disdainfully at me and said, “The restroom is for purchasing customers.” I said OK and waited. I was going to buy something, but a bodily need more urgent than thirst was demanding my attention. I didn’t realize right away that she wanted me to buy something first before she would open the bathroom, so I stood there hoping she was just finishing up with her customer and then she would help me. She, however, interpreted my standing there as stubborn insistence that I wasn’t going to buy anything but was going to sneak in the bathroom when someone else entered. So she raised her voice at me and said it again: “Paying customers only!”
I got a little angry. I told her I really wasn’t interested in buying food and then taking it into the bathroom; that I was going to buy something but wanted to use the bathroom first. I might have muttered something unkind under my breath as well. She would have none of it. So I went to the counter and bought a Diet Coke. The girl said she would hold it for me until I came out.
There I was, a chaplain, a pastor. Inspirational black gospel music was playing in the restaurant. I had just spent the morning learning and discussing theology with my sainted professor and fellow divinity students. And I was on the verge of cussing out a young woman in public because she wouldn’t open the bathroom door for me.
I could have blamed it on the fact that I had been up since two a.m. with only a few fitful hours of sleep. I was tired and ready to go home. I was in a bit of a time crunch, fearing I might miss my bus. My bodily needs were screaming at me. I had my reasons.
Also, I think of myself as a fairly trustworthy person, and to be honest, it was insulting that she didn’t trust me. Of course I understood where I was and the kinds of people she had to deal with all day. I’m sure I didn’t appear all that impressive to her — in dungarees and ball cap, with scraggly beard and circles under my eyes. But her automatic dismissal and distrust awakened the dragon in me.
I had, at that moment and upon further consideration, yet another opportunity to reflect on what Jürgen Moltmann calls, “the notion of paradoxical identity,” his phrase for the famous theological dictum, “simul iustus et peccator” (at the same time righteous and a sinner).
But I think somewhat differently about that concept these days. I’ve come to understand it in eschatological terms.
Continue reading “Eschatological Me”