Yesterday, I watched in disbelief as a driver passed me and a couple of cars on the right by misusing a turn lane in a construction zone. I was furious with him. But what rational basis could I possibly give for my anger?
He was a rule-breaker? He was selfish? He didn’t want to wait in line? It’s drivers like him who put us all in jeopardy? He stole from me? I might have had to brake? (I didn’t have to, by the way.) These are somewhat flimsy reasons to imagine the use of heat-seeking missiles.
So it had to be idolatry. Only the threat to an idol could produce such a response. And sure enough, there they were. I’m an aficionado of Tallman’s moral superiority bistro, where driving well and obeying social etiquette come with 14 grams of meaning and worth apiece. And seeing another person scoff at my delicacy infuriated me because what I fear the most is the possibility that I’m not really any better than they are just because I do these things this way.
As if I’m valuable only because Jesus loves me and not because I’m a responsible whatever. How can I feel superior because of that?
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