Particular People

Particular People

We are a culture of people who are very sure of what we want, at least in the coffee department. I thought I’d heard it all in terms of over-the-top beverage orders, but the fellow in line in front of me caused the meter to tilt. He ordered his coffee drink at—I am not kidding—140 degrees. And the barista didn’t blink. Not even a hint.

As I walked away with my three-syllable order (in which tall actually means “small”) I wondered if my discriminating coffee palate would have been able to discern the exact temperature of my drink down to the degree. (The answer to that question is no.)

I’m particular about getting the last word, or being judged right or fair or competent. I’m particular about finding the right word, not the almost-right one, and about keeping my word when I give it. But I’m surprisingly unparticular with regard to things I should care much more deeply about. I don’t worry enough that someone I know is spiritually lost. I don’t lose sleep over a particular friend’s heartbreak or fear, or because a particular ten-year-old boy’s birthday gift from me is almost a month late. And I’m not particularly troubled that people less than three miles from me might have no dinner, when I have enough in my pantry to feed four other families on any given night. Isn’t it strange what we’re particular about?

One of the things I love most about Jesus is the particular way he loved. He focused on loving others one moment, one person at a time. May I show love to others through that kind of intentional presence as well.

They called to the blind man, “Cheer up! On your feet! He’s calling you.” Throwing his cloak aside, he jumped to his feet and came to Jesus. “What do you want me to do for you?” Jesus asked him. The blind man said, “Rabbi, I want to see.”

“Go,” said Jesus, “your faith has healed you.” Immediately he received his sight and followed Jesus along the road.

Mark 10:49-52, NIV