Mark Twain once said, “If Christ were here, there is one thing he would not be—a Christian.”
I pulled my car up to the drive through at McDonald’s last Sunday before church to grab an Egg McMuffin and the black SUV in front of me caught my eye. The car was rocking back and forth.
I peered more closely at the vehicle and noticed a church sticker on the back window saying “You Matter to God.” There were also multiple banners representing the Fire Chief and Fire Department from a nearby county as well as a large decal on the back promoting a home-based business.
As I rolled down my window to order, I heard screams from the car. Surprisingly, it was a woman shrieking so loudly at her husband the car was vibrating. She was berating him with a mouth worthy of the foulest sailor and pummeling him with her fists.
In my entire life, I have never heard such filth spew out of a human being.
She was going on and on about her husband going through the “f-ing drive through instead of eating her GD f-ing home cooking.” And on and on it went.
Nasty, nasty, nasty…in front of her kids no less. (I’d be afraid to eat her cooking too if I was him)
It was a slap in the face to my gender, embarrassing to the fire department and a devastating blow to their business. I’m certainly not EVER going to use them.
But most of all, it was humiliating as a Christian.
I’m thinking…please take down the God stickers.
Order the Happy Meal.
Back off your husband you evil troll.
And wishing, with all my heart, that the man beside her would have the balls to tell her to zip it.
But he didn’t. He let the she-devil abuse him and go on and on.
I am left with more questions than answers.
What sort of anger has this woman so bent out of shape? Maybe the husband played a role in her diatribe and his passive behavior was simply guilt? Should I have intervened, at least for the sake of her children? Is she postal or just crazy PMSed?
I sat there in my car dumbfounded as tears rolled down my face. They were tears for the innocent kids, their marriage, and for the vicious cycle of verbal and physical abuse this poor family endures.
I pray they seek help.
And I am convicted all the more to seek my Savior in all things…in the hurt, in the anger, and in the pain of life. I know my own heart and it’s capability for depravity. On some level, aren’t we are all capable of being monsters?
It makes me think about the moments I argue in public with my husband-loudly. I guess that makes me a hypocrite too.
I certainly don’t ever want people to notice my sticker (or worse point me out as the pastor’s wife) and scratch their heads in confusion.
And then call me a hypocrite, one of “those Christians,” or worse, a Pharisee.
