The bus doors slide open, and everyone crowds in line.
I bump my way through a few people, slowly making my way up the stairs until I am able to stop at the ticket machine.
I reach into my pocket feeling around for some loose change.
Pulling it out, I slide it around through my fingers, fumbling for the correct amount.
A man behind me becomes impatient; pushing me from the back and mumbling something in Spanish I don’t understand.
I grab a few coins; not exactly sure of the correct amount, until finally the machine agrees, and out pops my ticket.
Today is my lucky day, I think to myself, as I plop down into a solo window seat.
Immediately, I put my headphones on and turn on my ipod, hoping in some sort of strange desperation to block out everything around me.
I think to myself how strange it is to find silence in the act of blaring music in my ears.
This makes no sense to me, and yet, I’m finding more than anything lately that nothing really makes perfect sense in this world.
I lay my head against the cold glass of the window and shut my eyes.
A million thoughts begin to tunnel their way, around and around in my head.
I’m so exhausted all I want to think about is jumping into my sleeping bag, and sleeping for a few weeks straight.
I’m hungry, my stomach rumbles and I’m anxious for this two-hour bus ride to come to a completion before it has even started.
I’m tired of the city.
A million faces bobbing around in an endless ocean of buildings.
So many agendas, so little time, I cant keep up with the pace, too many people consumed in selling and buying, becoming another no one amongst the nothingness.
Drifting in and out of sleep, the bus begins to fill, until there are no more seats, and people begin pack as tight as possible, filling the isles to the max.
There are people rubbing against me.
All I want to do is close my eyes, go to sleep, and block out the world that is surrounding me.
I open my eyes to see a pregnant lady, standing in the aisle holding another small child in her arms.
Immediately, I close my eyes again.
Selfishly, I pretend I didn’t see her.
I convince myself over and over in my head that I deserve this seat.
That I am too exhausted to stand like a sardine in the aisle of a bus for two hours, I give myself pity, closing my eyes, as if to hide the fact that I am capable of getting up.
Singing along to the music in my head, I try to drown out the million reasons why I should give her my seat before they even come.
Nothing works!
That still small voice in my head repeats itself over and over like a broken record.
“Give up your seat for the lady.”
I try to fight it, try to pretend it’s just a random thought, and try to convince myself again that I am worthy of sitting.
I begin to imagine myself as the lady.
Carrying a tiny little life inside of me, holding my fidgeting child.
My legs become tired, people bumping into me in every direction, tired, weary, I want so badly for a place to rest, to sit in comfort.
I hear the voice again, “give up your seat, she needs it more than you do.”
I grumble beneath my breath, realizing how selfish I have become.
Slowly, hesitantly, I stand from my seat, and meeting her eyes, I motion for her to sit down.
With one weary motion she sits, sitting her child on her lap with a huge sigh of relief, she meets my eyes and smiles.
I see the stress leave her body, and I know just how great that seat must be to her.
Smashed, standing in the middle, I begin to feel a strange solace.
I realize I am not as tired as I had tried to convince myself, and I find a strength I did not know I had.
I begin to think about the voice, about my own selfishness, and how many times I ignore God in order to do the things I desire.
How I feel sorry for myself because I am not able to sit down on a bus when I am exhausted.
Jesus was whipped, stoned, gashed, beaten, crowned with thorns, spit on, and when he had no energy left, he was forced to walk for miles, carrying a huge tree of a cross on his back.
And yet, he did all this without complaining, for me, for you, for everyone, just so that we could live.
Just so we could sit on a bus years later and selfishly ignore the needs of the people around us.
He did all of this because he loves me, us, everyone.
I realize my selfishness.
I understand that I do not deserve to have a seat, or anything I try to put a label on as my own.
The million faces in this ocean of a city are all people.
People with personalities, people with lives, people with pains and struggles of their own.
All people searching to love, or be loved.
My eyes have gone bad, worn from years of living in this world, doing things my own way.
I no longer want to see things through my eyes.
I want to see them through the eyes of Jesus.
I want to love without expecting anything in return.
I want to learn to think of others over myself, to willingly give everything I have to another without thinking about what I can gain from it all.
I smile, thankful I am even able to ride a bus at all….
Suddenly, a man taps me on the shoulder; I turn and meet his eyes, as he motions for me to take his seat.
