People Are Watching Me
I’m not paranoid, but the airline app knows I won’t choose a flight unless there’s a Starbucks in the terminal.
People are watching me. And so is the Holy Spirit. Whether it is at home, around people I know and love, or even in public, I am aware that people are watching, and my actions betray my affections.
If you've been to Asia, you know that a "busy restaurant" in that part of the world often looks a little different from a busy restaurant in the US. In some places in Asia, every seat is occupied. If you’re sitting alone at a table for four, it’s not unusual for three strangers to join you without a word.
There’s also another unspoken truth: no one really wants to sit by the foreigner.
In one restaurant, we had already ordered and managed to find two seats. The only available spots nearby were one next to Virginia, and one beside an obviously homeless and disturbed young man. A little boy came in with his parents, glanced at the seat beside Virginia, looked at the one next to the disheveled man—and sat next to the disheveled man!
But in another restaurant in Hong Kong, we found two open seats and successfully interpreted our way through the menu using the pictures. We ordered something that turned out to be delicious—probably a mix of Chinese kale, choy sum, garlic, vegetables, and stir-fried chicken.
We were enjoying our food when a woman sat down next to Virginia. Normally, in these settings, people keep to themselves—eyes glued to their phones, reading a newspaper, or talking with a friend. But not this woman.
She was alone—and she kept looking at us.
I tried not to notice at first, but it quickly became uncomfortable. A few times, our eyes met. I smiled politely, and she smiled back. I figured she just wasn’t used to seeing Americans.
Then the waitress came to take her order.
The woman began pointing at us. A bit of back-and-forth with the waitress followed. It seemed frantic at the time, for some reason, I thought I had done something wrong. (I’m not paranoid. Ahem.)
A few minutes later the waitress returned to the woman to serve her the exact same dishes we were enjoying.
Apparently, through the universal language of hunger and curiosity, she had simply said, “I’ll have what they’re having.”
Oh, I want people to want what I’m having. I invite the Holy Spirit to help me with my words, and with my inclinations toward others. Sometimes I immediately repent of a thought, a word spoken impatiently, or for putting myself first. In my actions and attitudes, even in my casual conversations as I pay for that americano, I hope people will “taste and see that the Lord is good.”