A Lesson on Love from Expressway Dodge

I often get caught up in the culture of entitlement. It's all around me, and it's hard to avoid. It's hard to refuse, sometimes, too.

Recently, Billy and I purchased a van from a local dealer. We went in with trepidation because we all know those stories, right? Well, we thought we were getting away with less than a major headache when the car salesman put in writing everything that we talked about and that he promised, which included several high-dollar repairs.

What we've run into has been beyond headache and is edging up toward ready-to-fire-a-revolver-at-the-next-person-that-puts-me-on-hold (after they spoke to me in the most sarcastic voice possible of course). Billy and I have both had the run around several times.

But the last couple of days, I've been battling with a burden on my heart for these horribly angry and unhappy people. I don't want to have that burden because they are mean. But I have it nonetheless because they are so hurting.

I realize that when I left behind my old nature, I entered into a bit of a paradoxical life. On the one hand, I'm free. But on the other, I'm a slave to Christ.

When I gave up my life for Christ's life through me, I did this not just to save myself and to secure my own destiny. It doesn't work like that. Because Christ isn't like that.

When I took advantage of the Grace of Christ, I acknowledged that that grace was something I wanted to offer to others.

Same with his humility.
And his servanthood.
And his love.

It is impossible for me to have a love relationship with Christ and to not find myself desperately loving the people that I wanted so desperately to hate.

Christ's love is too compelling, and it can't stop with just me.