Scanning Twitter, I come across a provocative post blasting the current president of the United States. This is not unusual, as he is controversial for a lot of reasons. I tend to leave such posts alone. Why join the masses in their complaints against Donald Trump?
What prompts my reply on this one is that this person is British. I tend to get my dander up over Europeans smacking America, as I think they have their own set of severe problems and should look to their own house.
As this tweet had to do with Mr. Trump’s “allegiances”, I point out in my reply that Mr. Trump is loyal to his own country and wants Europeans to begin paying their own bills instead of relying on the taxpayer of the United States to fund their welfare states.
I then add that my own nation has fought twice in the last hundred years in European wars, and that in the second one it was the primary player in saving their own country from the horrors of Nazism. I question why Americans should shed blood for such conflicts caused by their own people.
My “opponent” then begins to mock my response (and perhaps me) with a text acronym, which I hav to Google (FOFL). I am not particularly adept at text language. They have the advantage on me as they are a Millennial and I am approaching old-age pensioner status.
The fellow Twit(ter) participant adds to their urban jargon that the United States came “late to the party” against Hitler. I respond that their nation had already given away the farm to him before we showed up.
Before I can add two more words (“Neville Chamberlain”), I suddenly find that I cannot access this person’s page tweets anymore. Lo and behold, I have been blocked! Somewhere in there they also get in calling me “arrogant”.
I then react via my own page. I tweet that I have experienced my first “block”, which I consider a privilege and briefly recount my interaction with this person.
Then I make what I now consider a mistake. I add that this person should find another field beside personal development coaching since they can’t handle disagreement over a political issue. I include in my tweets their Twitter handle.
Soon I have second thoughts. I delete my Tweets a little later.
Why couldn’t this person and I have a polite discussion? Why did it have to escalate to personal vendettas against each other?
There are a variety of reasons. For instance, the political atmosphere is extremely toxic today and the kind of interaction that we had is common on Twitter. Even though, this is true, I lament that we don’t know how to argue anymore.
That’s not the only thing I regret. There is just a certain degree of incivility in general now.
What I really mourn, however, is my own responses to the poor behavior of others. My Twitter battle is not the only place I have responded with a lack of decorum this week.
There is a large shopping area near me that has a parking lot that makes driving a risky affair. I know it, but it doesn’t stop me from responding to the idiot maneuvers of the motor vehicle operators present.
A couple of days ago, in the space of five minutes, I had two altercations with other cars. One oncoming driver turned right in front of me although I had the right away. Another began to do so and then turned their signal on afterwards. They threw their hands up in exasperation at me for coming on through the intersection. (Hey, I am not a mind reader.)
In both cases I made my displeasure known to the other drivers. As with my engagement in the earlier tweetfest, I regretted it.
I was sorry because I knew my behavior was wrong in both cases. I knew it was wrong because God’s law as set forth in the Bible tells me it is. Minimally, I broke God’s instructions there to love others.
J. Vernon McGee notes that God’s law is like a mirror. It shows us how exceedingly sinful we are in our human condition. We cannot obey God in and of ourselves.
McGee explains the effect of this the following illustration:
A new car can be a very good thing. But in the hands of an inexperienced or incapable driver it can become a menace and it can become a danger. Actually, it can become a death-dealing instrument. Now the fault’s not with the automobile. The fault’s with the driver. The problem today is with Man. Man is the one who’s at fault. He’s the culprit. There’s been a great deal of discussion about gun control. We don’t need gun control. We need Man control.
The Apostle Paul wrote in Romans 7 about doing something and then later hating himself for it. McGee asks, “Do you know anything about that? Have you had that experience? ” My answer is, “I know I have.”
Our inability to keep God’s law is why God had to send His Son Jesus to die on the cross. Breaking of God’s law requires His judgement, but Jesus took the punishment for us.
He didn’t stop there, however. He rose again from the dead and is living today. Since we are no longer under judgement for our failure to obey God, He wants to have a relationship with those for whom He died.
As a Christian I know I have a two natures that battle within me to do the right thing. The Scriptures tell me that I must quit fighting and let Jesus win.
If you are reading this and have not believed in what Jesus did for you in taking the rap for your failure to obey God’s law, then that’s where YOU have to start. He can then help you counterattack that tendency to act improperly, whether it be on social media or out in traffic.
Slow News Day 