For years I walked around with a signature mean mug and a serious case of avoidance when it came to making eye contact with strangers. Up until recently, if you'd asked me why I never smile at people and why the perpetual stank face, I would have told you, "This is just my face." And to a certain extent, I was telling the truth.
I first became aware of the Mean Mug during my days at the University of South Carolina. Apparently, I'd passed a friend on the way to class and she'd decided not to speak, because I "looked pissed." I tried to remember if there'd been anything on my mind other than not having an outfit to wear to some fraternity party that weekend. I drew a blank. As far as I could remember, I'd just been power walking, in (what I'd thought was) the craziest heat and humidity, trying to not to trip over the bricks of the historic Horseshoe. Besides, I was going to class. What was there to smile about?
And there it began. What felt like a neutral face to me was in fact a stank face. Don't get me wrong, sometimes I catch myself walking around deep in thought with Grand Canyon-sized furrows between my brows. Not to mention the pursed lips and evasive eyes.
Of course, as I began to take my first toddling steps in my faith, I constantly wished people would notice that I'd changed. I wanted to be the light so to speak. The problem with that is, it's one thing to tell people how much you've changed, and it's a very different thing for them to just see it for themselves. Alas, no one sees your joy when you constantly wear the Mean Mug. So, I tried to smile more at strangers. I tried to be friendlier to no end. I'd freak out in my head as soon as I made eye contact with a stranger. What if they thought I was weird for staring? What if they were having a bad day? What if they thought I was hitting on them? What if they rejected me? So, I'd look away. I gotta tell you: it's pretty impossible to be the light if you can't even look at people.
One Sunday at church, the message was about making deposits into people's lives, and I'm not just talking financial deposits, though those are also important. Pastor Joel told a story of a woman whose mother had recently passed away. When she came to Lakewood she was greeted with a hug and pat on the cheeks by one of the greeters; this happened to be the exact way her mother used to greet her. Pastor Joel emphasized that there are over 270 doors in all of Lakewood Church. That woman went through that door, at the right time, to be greeted by that greeter. I'm beginning to believe there are no coincidences. That young woman was lifted from her sorrow by a simple greeting, by a deposit.
Finally it clicked! I had done it again. I had made this whole "being the light" thing about me. I wanted people to see me, when I should have been striving not only to see them, but to make them better. Lately, I've been walking the talk. I don't get it right every time, and sometimes the same insecurities arise. But mostly I get that even if I'm making that "deposit" and the person doesn't smile back or doesn't say thank you or calls me a weirdo for being kind, it doesn't matter because I've made my deposit and it's out of my hands. It's just not about me.
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