The Cab Test Of Good Character (December 5, 2004)

My sons were late getting ready for school yesterday, so as punishment I tuned the car radio to a Christian station and made them listen to a preacher they can't stand.

I can't stand this man's preaching either. He's orthodox, but shallow
and vapid and syrupy - and every time I hear him I wonder, "How can
anybody listen to this guy?" Yesterday, as he concluded a message by
wrapping emotional phrases around an endlessly repeated tagline, my
boys shouted, "Turn him OFF! PLEASE!"

I did, but as I pulled up into their school's parking lot I said, "OK,
he's not a good preacher, but he is a good man."

"How do you know?" Ben asked.

I explained that a friend of mine in seminary knew of this man's quiet
and honorable work behind the scenes. Also, a pastor I know once got
in a taxicab and the driver, hearing his vocation, talked about what a
great guy this preacher was. Apparently the cabbie did not even know
that the preacher was a radio personality - he just knew him as a
really friendly pastor who sometimes rode in his cab.

There it is - the cab test! It is a test of character that the world's
Martha Stewarts and Barry Bondses could not pass to save their tiny
little souls. The bigness of a man's heart can be gauged by the
accumulation of small graces he extends to cab drivers and waitresses
and barbers and bag boys and checkout clerks. Do well by them, and,
for what it is worth, you have my regard. Snub them and I won’t like
you.

Etched in my memory are a couple scenes from the Bogota Group House where I stayed briefly as a missionary about 13 years ago. One day a Colombian boy, face flushed and sweaty, brought in heavy bags of groceries and was placing them on the kitchen counter when by accident a jar of jelly fell out and broke open on the floor. A snappish lady missionary glared at him and cranked out mean words about him needing to be more careful. You have no idea how delighted I was a few days later when the exact same thing happened to her as she brought in the groceries. Plop, crash, and a mess of broken glass and gooey food on the floor. The only thing missing to complete the poetic circle of justice was a nearby superior to chew her out for it.

Be pleasant. This should not be that hard. Though certain accomplishments remain out of our reach (I'll never be organized; that radio preacher will probably never craft a compelling insight), I think anybody can learn to be gracious - or at least more gracious - if he puts his mind to it. Work hard to acquire the simple virtues of grace and good cheer. Even the cab drivers will notice.