I reported for jury duty this morning, along with 200 other good citizens—a real cross-section of humanity jammed in a room shoulder-to-shoulder, no empty seats.
It was pouring rain outside, and we were dry and getting warmer and warmer from the gathering body heat, so it was hard to complain. It was interesting to watch people, though, and imagine them as third graders, sitting in neat rows, handing their forms to the person on the aisle. They were just as fidgety and restless as third graders, impatient because they couldn’t talk loudly on their cell phones, so they were texting like mad and surfing online.
I didn’t see one person who was actually being still. We sat for 4 hours, waiting. I practiced dropping below the surface commotion, alternating with a sort of amazement at the chaotic nature of the group, which seemed so symbolic of what’s happening in the world right now.
The rain was quiet.
It made me think of a bumper sticker I saw recently: “Honk if you love Jesus. Send a text message if you want to meet Him personally.”