more than watchmen for the morning

It’s Tough to Know Who To Trust

A talk I gave at Canvas on Tuesday, January 10, 2012. 

*Not edited for grammar and typos—- just a draft that I talked from.

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It’s difficult to know who to trust these days.  

I went traveling a bit over the break and every time I fired up the Toyota Picnic, which was graciously lent to me by Josh and Rebekah, I wondered if I could trust that the engine would function properly to propel me to the places I needed to go. 

We were running low on petrol and we searched all over Cornwall for a station. I had trusted modern civilization to provide me with a petrol station every quarter mile from here to China, but, I’m afraid that my personal expectations of modern society are not held to Cornwall. It is delightfully a bit more like the Shire down there than it is, say, Cleveland. So as my two traveling companions took in the beautiful Cornish landscape, the sweeping seaside views and the dramatic cliffs, I was furiously searching out a drop, a taste, of petrol to put into the car. Thanks to the kindest lady I’ve ever met, a lady who, when asked about the locality of a station, actually told me that she didn’t know, but would definitely find out, turned back in the direction that she had been coming from in a sprint to ask someone who held the answers to these kinds of things.  What Cornwall lacks in petrol stations it makes up for in kindness from it’s people. Yet, when someone doesn’t know where a petrol station is, I have to wonder if their information is reliable. Luckily, it was in this case. 

It’s tough, sometimes, to know who to trust. 

I went to Germany on a business trip at the end of the year. Being ever thrifty, I still traveling on a budget airline. Budget airlines are notorious creatures for finding lots of stealthy ways to charge you extra money.  You may have only paid 10 pounds for your ticket but by the time you disembark from the aircraft you have blown your entire budget. 

So, I approached the Ryan Air service desk, as I always do, completely unsure of myself.  First, I’m not sure if I’ve done everything exactly the way it should be: that I checked in properly or if I printed my boarding pass on the correct color and size of paper.  I always fear that some slight error will cause me to be charged 40 extra pounds or miss my flight altogether.  

As I approached the desk I saw a young American woman, probably around university age, weeping to the Ryan Air ticket agent who showed her that her carry on luggage was just about half a centimeter too tall to be brought on board the aircraft for free.  He probably told her that such a neglect in observing policy would cause the plane to fall out of the sky in mid-flight.  She just kept weeping… the man was stoic… and she kept whimpering, “It’s not fair… It’s not fair…” 

You wondered who could help her.  It wasn’t me. I think she’s probably still in Germany. Or at least her luggage is. 

So, you can imagine why I’m always a little nervous about Ryan Air.  Who knows if my bag will pass through the gauntlet as well. 

And then you’re standing there in the line to get on the flight. I am certain that Ryan Air must be owned by the modern day incarnation of Ebenezer Scrooge, pre-redemption. He’s the Henry Potter from “It’s a Wonderful Life”.   

To Ryan-Air, we are not people- we’re customers. But we’re the very poor customers who don’t pay much for air travel: and this makes us valued somewhere around the level of cattle. Sometimes I’m a little surprised that they don’t have tazers and cow prods to guide us onto the ship.  

No, I don’t trust Ryan-Air, or any other budget airline. Have you ever noticed that they always have you line up to board the plane sometime about half an hour before the plane has even arrived? Look out at the huge pane of glass and there will be nary an airplane to be found.  Your plane is somewhere over Brussels while you’re already standing there to get on. Notice that they have you there, standing there, fearful that they sold too many tickets and they don’t have enough seats and so everyone is looking at each other very distrustfully. This is probably because it’s true. Next time you should make a point to remember the face of the last person in line to see if they actually board. I bet they don’t. 

And it’s always very hot there, standing at the gate. I believe that they have you standing there so that you’ll tire out- and they turn the heat up as well— so It’s really very hot. You’re uncomfortably warm. You’re perspiring just a little bit. Nothing too obvious, but it’s happening to you, and the others around you but no one wants to speak of it because they wonder if it’s just them.. but it’s there. It’s a subtle, sinister type of thing. 

So by the time that you get on the plane and it’s taken off you are so exhausted, so dehydrated, so delirious that you suddenly find yourself paying 6 pounds for a microwave heated panini and selling your kidney for a bottle of water.  They have the whole system set up that you’re so insanely nervous and frayed at the edges of your emotional consciousness that by the time that you sit down they have you right were they want you: They come sashaying down the aisle with those new, smokeless cigarettes.  You think, “Gee, I don’t smoke but that sure does sound nice. Here’s 10 more pounds, Ryan Air.” As a matter of fact: even the most horrid drug choices by this point would seem appetizing.

The experience of being on a Ryan Air flight is simply astounding.  If you are ever on a grown up airplane then you notice that most people are fairly reserved and quiet, trying their best to be respectful of each other’s space. If you’re on a British Airways flight and the “fasten seatbelt” light goes off for the first time, then you will probably see a few people slowly unfasten their belts and make their way to the toilet. 

Not so on Ryan Air.  As soon as you hear that safety belt ding that says you can move about the cabin you instantly hear about 175 seat belts unclicking all at the same time. People are standing up, they’re moving around. One time I saw about 20 people pass around a baby.  I felt like I was at a Greek wedding. 

It’s tough to feel too secure when you’re in such an environment, in a long tube of metal, hurtling through the sky at 500 miles per hour. 

No, I do not trust Ryan Air. 

It’s tough to know who to trust. 

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All this year we’ve been talking about Canvas: What we do and why we do it.  What we aim to be—- this community of students, of people, from all races, and classes, from all countries… and also— people of all beliefs or no beliefs.  We have talked a lot about how Canvas is a place where you’re always welcome because Jesus welcomed everyone to the table. 

We have talked a lot about Jesus: talked about people who followed him, talked about crazy stories that involved him.  We have said a lot about love- and how when you were around Jesus it seemed like there was always enough love and acceptance to go around. These things were never in short supply. 

It’s tough to know, these days, who to trust.  

But we as a staff try to follow Jesus, to trust him. 

But why?  Why would we want to trust someone who lived 2000 years ago? In what way does it matter? And is it trustworthy at all? 

These are honest questions. In the next term we’re going to continue to talk about these questions, and hopefully we can come to some honest answers, even if we don’t have all of the answers. 

I have a new housemate, who is really great.  She’s settling in and I’m trying to do my best to be helpful.  I’m honestly not the handiest of handy men around the house, but I try to put on a good show: I try to act as if I really know what I’m doing.  

Last night, while I was haplessly trying to drill into the wall, turning screws to see if they were fitting, I found my thoughts drifting to memories of my grandfather.  I can see him in my mind’s eye: building a towering tree house, assembling a basketball goal, sanding a piece of wood. I was so happy and lost in those memories of him.  My grandfather was a transformative figure in my life: he was my only true father figure, and he loved me very well. He died when I was ten.  

It’s tough to know who to trust, but I trusted him dearly, I trusted him with my life.  I didn’t really have much proof that he was worthy of it. I can’t show you evidence of his generosity or his humor.  Of his patience or warmth.  There’s no data sheet, no research, no empirical evidence. 

I have none of those things for you. 

All you have is me telling you a story of my experience.  10 years of memories that I built that I still feed my soul on 20 years after his death. 

Trusting someone is incredibly risky. 

And experiences can leave us changed people. 

Many of us already know what it’s like to trust someone and have a heart broken.

So why should I trust Jesus? Let’s take some time to ask that question over the next several weeks. And maybe we can see how some experiences have changed lives, and even changed the world.