Skin Tabs and Missing Legs

My son Brehm has amazing powers of perception.  He notices things that I might not not see, or think important, and points them out to me. 

-       A lady bug landing on a single blade of grass in the middle of a lawn.

-       A half buried rock on the beach

-       The kid with one leg at the playground

It was the last item that caused me the most discomfort because, when he points things out to me, he doesn’t have a volume control. 

This past weekend my family and my sister’s family got together and went to the playground.  Five kids, inside for two days, equals pent-up energy akin to nuclear fission. They needed to run and scream.  This was, apparently, a popular idea since there were lots of kids there.  One of those kids only had one leg.  Where his leg should have been, he had a bright, red, titanium pole with a sneaker attached to the end.  It’s one of those things that you notice but, as an adult, you pretend you don’t notice.  Because that’s what polite people do.  They ignore the glaringly obvious.  And then I heard it.

“Hey!”

Wait…was that my son’s voice?

“HEY!  You have one leg!” 

That was definitely my son’s voice. 

“What happened to your leg?  You just have one leg!”

He said it as if somehow the fact had escaped the boy.  The boy’s friend answered.

“It got cut off when he was a baby.”

“Cool!” said Brehm. He kept playing but watched the one-legged boy with awe.  
“I want a cool, red leg like that, Dad!”

“No.  No, you don’t.”

 

Brehm has, at times, turned that observant gaze my way.  One day I picked him up and he said, “Dad.  What are those hideously grotesque things on your neck?” (He didn’t actually use the words “hideously grotesque” that’s just artistic hyperbole)  Those "things" he was referring to were some skin tabs that had started to grow around the neckline of my shirt.  Honestly, I knew they were there and was pretty embarrassed about them but hadn’t had the time to go to the doctor.  And so my son, with the tact of a rhino, decided to point them out.  Loudly.  I was relieved that he hadn’t seen the one forming on my back.  THAT one was big.   My wife said that it wasn’t as bad as I thought.  While I know the she would never lie to me, I just knew that it was really the size of a giant iguana. 

Besides the embarrassment factor, there was the secret fear that they might be more than skin tabs.  That they might, in fact, be the tip of a cancerous iceberg just under the surface of my skin.  Really, though, I wanted them cut off because I’m vain.  See, since I started this new diet and exercise plan I’ve been a little obsessed with my new, firm physique.  By “firm” I mean soft-set Jello instead of the previous pudding. So, these tabs were blemishes on the skin of the body I was working and dieting to sculpt.  And when I say “sculpt” imagine mashed potatoes and the movie "Close Encounters", not Michael Angelo’s David.  I decided to go to the doctor to have them cut off. 

After a quick exam, the doctor informed me that the tabs were not cancer but merely cosmetic and that they would be happy to snip them off.  They did most of them without any numbing stuff (the technical term) and the giant, mother of all skin tabs on my back was numbed, snipped and burned to stop the bleeding.  Quick, relatively painless and I could go back to flexing in front of the mirror without any distractions.  I could also pick up my son without him asking me if I was growing branches. 

I think that sometimes I treat people like skin tabs and one-legged boys.  I can ignore them or cut them off if they make me uncomfortable or interrupt my vanity.  I mean, I’ve worked hard for almost twenty years to achieve the sculpted spiritual “bod” you see today. I told you I was vain.  But the truth is that I worry far too much about how the people in my life reflect on me, and less about how well I’m loving them.  The church isn’t immune to this.  We all know churches where we didn’t feel welcome because we weren’t the “right kind” of person.  Members Only is fine for yacht clubs and eighties leather jacket brands but not for church and not for me.  And yet, that is the life I’ve created for myself.  One that is free from relationships that make me uncomfortable or challenge me.  One that allows me to check out my Christian muscles and politely ignore anyone that takes my focus off me.  Flexin’ for Jesus. This should not be if I call myself a follower of Christ.

Jesus, who was fully God, came and lived among us, sinful humanity, and took on frail flesh out of love for us.  He lived as a homeless man, with twelve men of questionable repute. That twelve included one who he knew would betray him and lead to his death.  And that was just his close friends.  His list of acquaintances led the religious authorities to call him a drunkard and sinner.  He never ignored.  He never cut off anyone even when they challenged him or damaged his reputation.  He certainly never surrounded himself with a sanitized version of humanity. And, if I claim to follow in his foot-steps, why do I expect my life look different?