In the world of restaurant workers, someone who steals tables from others is affectionately referred to as a shark. You may be able to see him coming but he is so skilled at taking money from your little hand that the small fin pointing out of the water is only a sign of things to come. Last night, I was attacked by a wily old shark.
It started out when the hostess came to me and asked me where she ought to put my 5-top that was walking into our fine establishment to sample our fine port-of-faire. I told her which of my tables would be the best but the aforementioned senior waiter piped up and offered one of his tables in exchange for one of my tables. Because I have been lulled in by the gentle waves of his outward kindness toward me, I was unaware of the nearness of the great white.
Well, I was serving the table and to be honest, I forgot about our little trade and it seemed he had as well. He had more tables than me to wait on even though my job last night was to 'close' the restaurant, meaning I should have more tables that night. Well, I remembered our deal when another shark, you might say he's a friendly tiger shark, came looking for me to protect me from the imminent loss of money that was to ensue. He was unsuccessful in his rescue attempt.
Our senior waiter took a single man sitting by himself in exchange for my 5-top (a guaranteed table, I might remind you, fair reader). I thought nothing of it. I was wrong. This man sitting by himself apparently spends a ridiculous amount of money to eat by himself, and more importantly, he rewards the waiter handsomely each time. And our beloved senior waiter effectively, in the words of my dad, 'took the food off my table'.
So I've been harboring this bitterness this morning and I just told my new roommate about the encounter. Phil is from Australia so there are things he just doesn't understand. His response: "Man, its hard to love your enemy. This guy is obviously your enemy and its your job to love him. That's the gospel." Clearly Phil's Australian-ness has blinded him to my woe and strife.
Of course he is right in the end. This is the gospel. A man my steal money right out of my hand and then shake it and have a laugh with me but I am called to love him. That's what God did for me in Jesus Christ, he loved his enemy. That's what I need to do today and all the other todays in my life. I need to love my enemy and pray for him that God would show him how much he is loved by his Creator.
Maybe the Australian and St. Francis of Assisi were right. St. Francis prayed: "Lord make me an instrument of your peace". The gospel would be so radically shown if I could pray this right now. I need to be an instrument of peace and not an agent of strife and anger.
Isn't the gospel beautiful?
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