This morning I took a cup of coffee from the bottom of my closet drawer. There were a lot of glasses ahead of the one I thought, but I wanted the right size and thickness. You see, I like skinny cups, skinny plates, and silverware. Weird I know, but it is what it is. Now we go with the coffee.
I set the mug on the counter and proceeded to pour my crema while my freshly made Costa Rican asado filled my senses with the promise of waking me up at the first sip.
While doing this I noticed a few small black specks in the bottom of my cup. My first response was to think that the specks were ants. I quickly stopped pouring my cream and looked at my cup in dismay.
Yuck, ants in my cup? How is it possible? I tilted the cup to see which insect had the nerve to mess with my morning ritual. To my surprise, there were no ants or any other insects in my mug, just small black specks of ceramic paint embedded in the bottom and covered with glaze. I sighed with great relief to learn that there were no ants in my house or in my coffee.
Once my cup was full of coffee, I began to think a little deeper about my non-existent ants. I reflected on how often I immediately think of the worst case scenario without even stopping to consider another possibility.
The specks in my cup looked like ants; therefore, they must be ants. In fact, I almost spilled the cream before deciding to take a closer look. If I had, I would have wasted a good creamer and delayed my first drink (which is always the best) by having to start the process all over again.
What started out as just a routine cup of morning coffee turned into an instant lesson in perspective. I’ve learned not to jump to conclusions based on past experiences without finding out if what I’m perceiving in a given situation or about another person is really what it is. Better to give the benefit of the doubt.
If ants can be stains of artistic expression on an old coffee mug, how much more can other things and people in our lives be if we just choose to look a little deeper?
Simply put, I chose to perceive something formed in my beautiful ceramic mug as an artistic expression as an evil invasion instead of something good created to bring beauty. In a sense, I called good evil.
We as Christians often look at what we consider to be peculiar traits in others and, due to our own past experiences, see ants and not the unique artistic expression of Christ in their composition. And when we perceive the specks and dots to be ants, it’s easy to pour out the cream and start over with someone else. After all, our new relationships and situations won’t have ants, specks, or specks in their cups. Good! Sure! If this were true, the grass would be greener on the other side.
Until the specks are really ants and the grass is greener on the other side, join me in not jumping to conclusions or making premature judgments. Join me in looking a little deeper before I take the big leap to discard or eliminate everything that has been poured into a relationship or situation just because a blemish looks like an ant. Look a little deeper with the expectation of seeing artistic beauty. When you do, drink deeply and you will awaken to a whole new perspective… a perspective of how mercy trumps judgment… of how life is better with a few specks in it.