It didn't help that I was carrying a squirmy two-year old in one hand, and a frozen pizza, Diet Pepsi, and gallon of Vitamin D milk in the other. Nor did it help that at one point, the squirmy two-year old wiggled free and ran to the Christmas toy display, displacing us in line.
I started to pray. The first prayer was rather imprecatory--it was addressed to the God of Angel Armies and Kroger Checkout Staff. I called down ice from the heavens (sorry Northern Indiana) to sheath their car. I begged for faulty bags to tear at the handles. I requested power outages in their kitchen to spoil their groceries.
Then, as I felt the frozen pizza thaw in my armpit, I realized a challenge I'd heard from a sermon the previous week. The pastor (a dashing chap) asked the church to pray that God give Jesus' eyes of compassion each time one of them shopped during the Advent season.
There I was, shopping, eyes set on petty injustices, and I thought I should change my prayer. God gave me a gut check, much like Jesus when he saw the five thousand chase him around the lake. They had no groceries. And they were without a leader, too.
Suddenly, the dirty-fingered, sallowed-eyed couple looked less deplorable. I still watched them cheat a system, but I knew it's because they felt like systems never served them. And not just U-scan systems.
(Sorry Wayne Grudem, that includes you're theology book, too.)
And [Jesus] took the five loaves and the two fish, and looking up toward the heaven, He blessed the food and broke the loaves and He kept giving them to the disciples to set before them; and He divided up the two fish among them all. They all ate and were satisfied... (Mark 6:41-42, NASB)