If you’ve ever been over for a meal at my home, the first thing you will notice is how talented of a chef my mom is. The second notable item is that the majority of our kitchen ware is disposable: plates, table cloth, chop sticks, bowls; everything goes in the garbage afterwards with the exception of the cup and fork. We simply leave all the bones and plates and such on the table, grab the corners of the plastic table cloth (the kind you find at restaurants), wrap up the mess, and then conveniently toss it.

It’s simple.

It’s clean.

It’s good for those of us who don’t have time to wash that many dishes. (Remember, for some reason, the Chinese don’t use their dish washers. They function better as storage spaces).

But! It’s also one of the most environmentally-unfriendly things you could do on a daily basis.

On the opposite end of the spectrum, my mom is an avid recycler. She has numerous recycling bags strategically located throughout the house. She even makes rounds and checks every trash can to salvage any scrap of paper that was lazily thrown away along with the garbage by the rest of us.

Wouldn’t expect that, no? Not with our table manners. It has been like this for many years now, and I’m more than used to it, but for some reason the other day it occurred to me how conflicting the two habits are. Complete disregard for Mother Nature in one respect, devotion in another.

Any true tree hugger would shake their heads in disapproval. Any onlooker wouldn’t know what to think.

It’s the same when a dieter indulges in cake. It’s the same when a human rights activist scoffs at a street beggar. It’s the same when a regular church attendee never shares the gospel, hides his Bible on the weekdays, and is only kind to those who are kind back to him/her.

Each of these examples speaks confusion and a clouted message and asks, “How serious are they really?”

My mom doesn’t seem to really care about saving the earth. The dieter doesn’t seem to really want to lose that weight. The human rights activist doesn’t seem to really care about the helpless. The regular church attendee doesn’t seem to really care about Jesus.

It is dangerous for us as believers to be in complete disregard for Christ’s message in one respect, devotion in another. Christ asked us to live in complete abandon: to lay down our lives, pick up our crosses, and to follow after him. That means he wants our all, he wants a living sacrifice, he wants a full-time follower, not a part-timer who acts in convenience.

Because when we present a conflicting message in our actions and in our lives, we present a lie. Christ’s message was never conflicting, and his life reflected this well.

Reflect truth in your entirety; reflect truth in its entirety.

Give no one an opportunity to look at you and ask, “How serious are they really?”

I know it’s tacky to write about the same topic consecutively, but I will go ahead and do it anyways. I bring to you another story from the workplace.

“Fettuccini with spinach and sun-dried tomatoes, please, but without the fettuccini.”

Come again!?

“Baby mozzarella salad, but make sure to leave out the mozzarella.”

Excuse me?!

Sometimes, people make absolutely no sense. Fortunately, I never let these thoughts escape through my mouth, but I cannot help but wonder if the customer realizes how ridiculous their order is. Their customized requests strip the food item of its main element, and I end up handing them a container of just spinach and sun-dried tomatoes, hardly reminiscent of what the chef had originally prepared. But the unofficial motto at our deli is that the customer gets whatever pleases him/her, and we comply without questions. They get what they want, and they leave content.

Sometimes, Christians make absolutely no sense.

“Yeah, I’m a Christian, but I don’t really have time for God.”

Come again!?

“I love going to Friday night fellowship but the Sunday morning church and prayer thing aren’t for me.”

Excuse me?!

These actual phrases may never be uttered, but for many of us, our actions speak otherwise. Like the customer at the deli counter, we pick and choose the parts of Christianity we enjoy tasting, and sometimes we do not realize how ridiculous it is. The customization strips the religion of its main element, and we end up handing ourselves just the fellowship or just the namesake.

Believers do this. Churches do this.

It is hardly reminiscent of what the Creator had originally prepared in advance for us. Christ descended to earth to show and tell what the kingdom of heaven ought to be like, and he truly painted a beautiful picture. When we begin to stray from the Word and from the Truth, we sketch in the desires of our hearts and seriously mar the painting, and what others end up seeing is a false representation void of the main element. It is hardly reminiscent of what the Creator had originally willed.

As we walk through life bearing the name as Christians, let us not leave out Christ.

And then there was one.

That phrase above describes a very rare scene at the deli I work at, the extremely few random moments in the week when there is only one customer in line. Typically we are swarmed with ten to fifteen regulars at any given moment, each wanting their generous share of sliced deli meats and containers of cold pastas/salads. Many are patient, a good handful are not: I’ve seen fights break out between customers, and twice I have even witnessed people trying to cheat their way to the front of the line. Unbelievable.

All I hear throughout the day are the constant shouts of “Quarter of a pound of Ekrich honey ham, sliced thin!” or “Medium container of the lemon chicken pasta, not packed too full!” that hardly ever allow a silence.

The rapid pace of the deli makes the day go by quickly, and the busyness somehow thrills me a bit. But the “and then there was one” moments are the moments that really make my day.

Because in the lull, I can hear the music.

And let me tell you, my grocery store sure does know how to pick its tunes. The soundtrack that gently plays in the background, whenever it finds me in a lull, is almost always a favorite or even better, a new favorite. I absolutely love when I can hear the music.

Just as precious to me are the times I get to remove my self from the deli counter and hide away in the back kitchen. When I walk through the swing door away from the customers, it is like entering into a whole new world. In the back is the kitchen staff that cheerfully teases each other in Spanish, chop their vegetables, and wildly sing and dance to their Latino music all at the same time. I absolutely love when I get sent to the kitchen to do a menial task, where I get to join them and can hear their music as well.

Throughout my life, but particularly in college, I have had many “customers” to attend to. That might mean anything from friends to family to schoolwork to volunteering to my ambitions, because a customer is someone or something that you serve. I tend to spend a great deal of my energies and time pleasing them, and the busyness somehow thrills me a bit.

However, because I don’t allow myself a lull, I can’t hear the music. The music is the parts of life that are true blessings, the ones that break through the mundane, the ones God wishes for us to experience and find joy in and grow from.

And let me tell you, God sure does know how to choose the music. The soundtrack that he composes and gently plays in the background, whenever it does find me in a lull, always becomes a favorite. I absolutely love when I can hear the music.

Yet somehow we get sidetracked and distracted enough by these other things that we start to believe that we ought to listen to them and keep ourselves busy by them. Of course, they are all a part of life, but we fall for a horrible trade, making greater allowances for the mundane and accepting a smaller portion of what is truly uplifting to the spirit.

It is important to remember to allow yourself to be removed from the noise and the customers, because it is in the lull or the escape to the back kitchen that you find that God can most bless you.