Passivity

Today's Isaiah passage (53:7-9) is about Jesus' passivity. He didn't open his mouth while being tortured and taunted with false accusations from the very people he was dying for.

He knew they were wrong, and what they did was sinful. But he kept his mouth shut because what they did was the right thing to happen. His very suffering was the right thing.

I think of times when I need to keep my mouth shut, even when my first instinct is to stop something negative from happening. This is the trick: Knowing when to keep your mouth shut even when you think you're right so that a greater good can be accomplished.

I think of Lee and our differing views of spending money. He's so carefree and optimistic! I'm so careful. The trick is knowing when to keep my mouth shut, so that a greater good (a peaceful marriage) can be accomplished. Even as I write the words, I can hear my father's chastising me to be stronger, to stand up against irresponsible spending. This is an ongoing conflict that I will continue to struggle with. But I'm working on it.

Yesterday was Isabel's first rehearsal for the school musical, 'Bugz.' I volunteered as a parent helper. The teacher/director, Mrs. Irwin, was an older woman with a close-cropped bob, a crisp, pink button-down and dark blue jeans, proper jeans. Older but still rail-thin (someone, it seems, who wouldn't dream of letting her body go).

She made it clear to the children from the start: She required silence, all eyes on her, good posture. She held up fingers as signs for the children--one for stand up, two for sit with a straight back, three for sitting comfortably but quietly. She called these signs "their secret." Her discipline M.O. was singling one child and then another and then another for praise, constantly and repeatedly affirming their widely opened mouths, or their strong voices, or their ability to stay on beat.

Of course, my eyes stayed on Isabel. She was the picture of adorable--the delicate features of that sweet little face! But she was tired from a long day of school. She didn't smile much, and she slouched (when allowed, on three fingers). She tried to stay focused on Mrs. Irwin, but her attention would drift. She tried to follow the hand motions and learn the words. Mrs. Irwin never singled her out for praise. Each time the woman singled out Hannah, who sat next to Isabel, I died a little death inside. Hannah, our rambunctious and often disrespectful neighbor, was in her element. Was Isabel dying too?

Isabel hates this, I thought to myself. I've forced her to do something she's not cut out for. Being in a room full of boisterous, extroverted kids can't possibly be helpful for my introspective little thinker. If she wants to quit, I thought, I'll let her quit.

After the practice, with my heart in my throat, I helped to walk all the kids out. "We wasted all this time that we could have been playing," Isabel told me. Outside, I asked, "Do you want to do the play?" She was torn--yes and no. She'd just been told that her part was a caterpillar that turned into a butterfly. That was cool. But she didn't want to go to all the twice weekly practices. They may be fun for the other kids. But playing with her friends or with her sister, out in the backyard, was her version of fun. (Mine, too, actually, when I was a kid.)

I resolved to let her quit.

Then the rest of the afternoon passed. She watched a little TV, and then she said she was going outside to play. 'Isabel, before you go out there, I need you to be thinking about whether or not you want to be in the play, OK?' I said.

"I'll do it," she said, and the screen door banged shut behind her.

So...she's doing it. As the night progressed, she excitedly told Grandma and Papi about it on Scype. She had Lee play the musical's CD, and she danced and danced. She talked about her costume. She woke up in the middle of the night, and talked about her costume again.

I kept my mouth shut. I don't have all the answers, and my passivity (it seems, for the time being) won the day.

I am hyper-aware of my own passivity in social situations. At the rehearsal, one of the other moms, Julie, flitted about, correcting kids and actively helping. I just stood there. If Mrs. Irwin needed me, she could direct me. Was I being too passive?

Nothing is clear cut, or black and white! Passivity is an art. It has nuances, and it takes discernment to tell how passive to be.

I'm talking too much this morning, and not listening enough. Passivity. Sometimes, Jesus turned over tables and challenged prominent intellectuals and leaders. In this passage, he shut his mouth.

Lord, I'm sorry that I talked and talked and didn't listen just now. I pray that You'll show me what You want me to know about passivity. I pray for Isabel in this play, that You would use it as You develop her into the kind, loving person You plan for her to be.


In Your son's name I pray.
Amen