Habadu Benj.

Prologue: These past few days, I have been reviewing my notes for Sunday's preaching about Patience. I closed my eyes and fell asleep.

    I was biking on the 5th floor of Megamall (either A or B). As I was near the elevator, I saw two teenagers playing basketball in the side hall. I could've insisted on my right to tell them they were not supposed to do that inside the mall (I guess biking is also improper), but instead, I slowed down and stopped before them to wait for the proper time when I could pass by. A mom and her kid appeared on the scene. They were to pass through. It was the perfect moment where I could pass through without breaking the momentum of their game.
    After passing through and reaching the perpendicular line of the elevator, I felt a ball hit my back. I found out it was intentional. I had an option to explode or not. My response reflects my patient level. I could've responded condescendingly or sarcastically. They could have humbled and apologized, but it was unlikely because the throw was intentional. Why are some people like that? I was trying to be nice, and I yielded and gave way to them in the first place, but then I received aggression. Gladly, I was able to control and calm myself. I just smirked, nodded with disappointment and continued to leave.
    Everything went well, and I acted as a Christian still having the fruit of the Spirit until something unexpected happened. Upon reaching the other side of the building and seeing them in my peripherals, I stopped, looked at them and challenged them for 1-v-1. I played 1-v-1 in real life for friendly competition but not with hostile motivations. They paused and didn't respond to my challenge. I continued to say, together with the mom and kid, "Why? Chicken??" This one is a different version of me. I wasn't expecting this side of me. I am like Peter, who was so proud and confident that he would never deny God. I thought Patience was one of my key strengths. But I lashed out. I thought I was willing to let go of an insult, but I was not. I was thinking highly of myself.
    I woke up and looked. It was 5:39 a.m. PDT. 


Epilogue: Near the end of this writing, I recalled asking God in prayer to share something personal that I could include in my sermon. 

    "Like clay in the hand of the potter, so are you in my hand, O house of Israel."(Jer. 18:6)1 We tend to think we have already reached the full perfection of a certain area in our lives but we have not. We are continuously being moulded by the potter.


Footnotes:
1 Massachusetts Institute of Technology. https://web.mit.edu/jywang/www/cef/Bible/NIV/NIV_Bible/JER+18.html (Accessed August 24, 2024')

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