Too big for their britches

Jesus told his disciples a parable about those who get too big for their britches.

Who could that be? Hope it’s not me.

Two men stopped by the hospice chapel to pray. One was spiritual-but-not-religious (SNR). Big on centering prayer, sweat lodges, Taizé music and Tibetan prayer flags. On top of that, he’s an activist, an act-of-conscience jailbird, recycles everything, vegetarian, drives a hybrid, ACLU member, makes his own granola.

Could be me, if you add green tea.

The other was a tea-partying born-again beer-bellied redneck. Looks forward to county fair food and Charlie Pride and Patsy Cline music. Says you’uns when speaking second person plural. Eats Wonder Bread and baloney sandwiches and chews Red Man. Never heard of Jon Stewart. Tears up singing the national anthem. Wants the guv’ment to keep its hands off his Medicare.

Might be me, if born under a (really) different star.

When the SNR saw the beer-belly walk in, he paused his quiet Ojibwe prayer chant and scowled under his breath, “Thank Goddess I don’t have his cholesterol level!”

The Wonder Bread man, having just heard his babygirl’s final breath, cried out, “He’p me, Lawdjesus!”

So now I ask: Whose prayer do you think lit a fire in Heaven that day?

©Ken Sehested @ Inspired by Luke 18:9-14.