By Katie Ginn
When Stephen and I drove to Chattanooga for a long weekend last month, our plans included the Incline Railway on Lookout Mountain and ice cream at Clumpie’s, both of which I’d recommend (get the espresso chocolate chunk). But two of my favorite experiences were unplanned: the best meal I’ve eaten in a while (pork shoulder), courtesy of Alleia restaurant, and line dancing at a place called Westbound Honky-Tonk.
Despite the name, this “honky-tonk” did not feature a jukebox, a country band playing behind chicken wire, or even lots of Western wear. Instead, it featured the Tennessee Volunteers game on multiple TVs – and line dancing to multiple musical genres. I would’ve stayed all night for the latter if Stephen had let me.
When we walked in around 8:30 p.m., a married couple was taking turns teaching the stomps, slides, kicks and turns. Then the DJ would play the song and everybody would practice what they’d learned.
Stephen quickly ducked to the sidelines, but I kept trying my feet at a few different songs. After a while, the instructors quit instructing and simply danced, and it was your job to follow them if you could. It looked like most folks were regulars who knew the moves. I’d give my performance a C-average, but I didn’t care. When you hear the opening fiddle riff to Shania Twain’s “Any Man of Mine” at a line-dancing honky-tonk, you don’t hesitate!
One thing did bother me during our trip: We never did a Bible study. As a moral perfectionist, I hoped we would do at least one “religious” act in Chattanooga, as if God would see it and say, “Ah, the Ginns are holy. Let me go ahead and sprinkle My blessing on this vacation.” We did pray before meals. Does that count?
I probably will talk to Stephen about planning some devotional time for our next trip. But whereas I stay on top of my private checkboxes for the Christian walk, Stephen often does a far better job of loving his neighbor. In Chattanooga, Stephen struck up a conversation with two strangers in a tour group when I likely would’ve left them alone.
I can sit right next to someone and ignore them without any qualms, but Stephen will make the effort to ask about their life (even if he hasn’t read a lick of scripture that day). Which attitude is more likely to lead to a gospel conversation? Maybe I should step back and look at the big picture.
A more hilarious example of this occurred the day after we got back from Chattanooga. The weather was gorgeous and Stephen had the day off, so he suggested we do some yard work. He mostly pruned and shaped the bushes, while I mostly pulled little weeds all over the flowerbed. Then at one point, Stephen called me over to an azalea and said, “Hey, what is this pokey plant behind this bush?”
Dear reader, behind that azalea, was the biggest, ugliest, pokiest weed I have ever seen. I made a noise of disgust that shocked my husband, and we set about digging up the weed. He eventually left me to it, and I dug and dug until I had extracted the biggest part of the root, though of course it broke off and I didn’t get it all. Grrr.
That weed was growing only a foot away from the faucet where I turn on the soaker hose every couple of days to water our boxwoods (when I remember to do it). I’d stepped close to the monster weed plenty of times but never looked closely enough to notice it. Instead, I was pulling up smaller weeds while Creature From the Weed Lagoon kept growing.
It’s not that pulling the small weeds isn’t important. It is. And it’s not that spending time in prayer and scripture isn’t crucial. It certainly is! But sometimes I need to ask myself: Is my motivation to love God and love people (the greatest commandments) when I do religious things? Or am I ignoring a growing weed of sin in my heart while I congratulate myself on checking a box? Ouch, that’s pokey.
I wish I’d taken a picture of the Monster Weed – a thistle, according to Google – so I could share it here. But my phone was in the house. One victory in my quest for less screen time! Maybe some weeds are getting smaller after all.