This week I have spent a great deal of time alone, walking around the ‘greatest city on earth.’ It is worth mentioning that I have been to the city countless times and spent hundreds, maybe even thousands of hours here. But, ‘living’ here is a new experience for me. In all of that time spent here, I have developed some 'rules' about how to survive in NYC: keep your head down, don’t smile at anyone, and walk fast even if you don’t have a clue where you’re going, etc. You see, it is the worst possible insult to be thought of as a tourist here. If the native New Yorkers think you are, you’ll be asked five million times if you want to go to a comedy club, give money to the homeless, or the greatest of all offenses... purchase I ♥ NY paraphernalia.
As someone who lacks affinity for any sort of unannounced touch, Times Square isn’t one of my particularly favorite places to begin with. However, I am a hopeless sanguine, so the flashing lights and swirling energy naturally attracts me. But, out of all the times I have been to the city, even though I follow every rule, people can always tell I am not from here. Over time, because of this, I have grown to absolutely despise Times Square. And wouldn’t you know, that my hotel that was supposed to be near Central Park, ended up being right off of, you guessed it, Times Square.
So, I have had to adapt. If I want anything (including Starbucks), I have to walk outside the hotel and into the madness of Times Square. But, a funny thing as happened to me here. Like all funny things that happen to me, it has shifted my opinion about several things. Maybe it was out of rebelliousness or just the spirit of trying something new, but for whatever reason this week, I began to break my rules.
On my way to a Hillsong service last night, for instance, I had to hail a cab. Now usually, I just tell the cab driver the address and let the little TV in the back of his seat drown out the awkward silence of two strangers sitting in a closely confined, deathly rapid, moving vehicle. But last night I decided to mute the TV and talk to the cabbie...despite my hard and fast rule. We had a $7.50 ride and guess what? I learned so much about another human being that I would normally have no way of getting to know, in that short time. So, on the way back I did the same thing, and much to my surprise, the driver asked which borough I was from. When I told him I was from Connecticut, he didn't believe me. In fact, Pascal (his name) still thinks I was joking.
It’s happened to me a few times this week, actually. I have been mistaken for an NYC native 4 or 5 times in the week that I have been here. This may seem like a menial thing to anyone else, but for me it’s anything but lackluster. You see, it’s not about the cab driver, being viewed as a tourist, or even NYC, it’s that my formula didn’t work.
For those of you that may not know, my father is my pastor. Not in a weird home-church sort of way, but in the way that he pastors a church that I attend. From the pulpit this Sunday, dad was talking about how past experiences can build your ideas about how the future is laid out. And what's really disturbing about that is that our experiences may be totally misconstrued. Your experiences are subject to this world and what you have seen of it and since when is one view the final word on anything?
As Christians, we are supposed to find our reality in Christ. Natural experiences are just a
Are we so much different? I would contend that we aren’t that much different at all (with the exception of the whole ‘God’ thing). We can’t afford to get lost in what we’ve seen or been a part of in the past, because that’s not our reality. God has formulas, of course, but they aren’t usually what we think they are. To be honest, we shouldn’t even be worried about trying to figure them out. It’d be like explaining astrophysics to a pre-schooler. Our main job is to find out who He is and believe me, that can take a whole lifetime.
I realized something while I have been here—that I didn’t really know who New Yorkers were and that my past experiences had very much defined my assessment of the city. And then I realized something that really hit home. Maybe I have done this with God. Maybe in some areas, I have let my past experiences dictate to me what kind of God I serve, instead of entering into the reality of what His Word and character actually say. You see my Bible says that He is my healer, my deliverer, my strong tower, my help in time of need, my savior, my creator, my all-sufficient, the great I Am, the author and finisher of my faith, my friend, my love, my safety, my ruler, my King, my God. That’s my reality. He’s my reality.
Everything else is just passing, fleeting. I think we get so caught up sometimes in what ‘works.’ It’s easy to do. In the words of my very wise older sister, Rachel Adams, “Reality smacks you in the face and then hands you a trust issue, so who wants to repeat that?” I love that because it’s so true. Instead of fighting back or walking away, we just accept the trust issue and thank reality by playing according to it’s rules. Not anymore for me. I’m done with that cycle, and the gloves are coming off. I’m here to bring the reality of the Kingdom of God to my experiential reality and blindside it with a Brooklyn right hook.
You can never ‘unknow’ something once you know it. I will never go back to being the tourist in NYC, because now I know how not to. The same is true with God. I know now, that His reality is higher than mine and honestly much better. So be encouraged by my Big Apple Epiphany. Maybe you have some preconceived notions in areas that are based on a distant memory of what you thought you knew. We all do. Find it, recognize it, and deal with it like a real New Yorker. :)
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