Crowd Control

There are few things that give me the unique sensation of discomfort and low-grade anxiety like large social events. While I may be a social creature by design I do not love the crowd given my particular place in life at the moment. This is not the result of any kind of phobia I harbor but more likely because of some quirky weaknesses I will presently disclose.

To begin, I have a terrible memory when it comes to names. In other areas of life I find my memory to be astonishing; but not with names, or faces for that matter. Likely, this says something about me I don’t want to know. I imagine it means I am self-centered, egotistical and perhaps vain because I cannot remember the names and faces of others. I have thought about it a lot and the implications are not pleasant. Yet, that isn’t what I want to write about. Suffice it to say, if I’ve met you once, twice, three times or more and I still cannot remember your name please understand that I feel worse about it than you do.

I am terrified of offending someone because of this neurological hiccup. I have standard operating procedures that help bail me out of tight spots like introducing whatever person I happen to be with to the as of yet un-named individual- “Hi, let me introduce my wife Meegan…” to which the unnamed individual then introduces themselves to my wife. Still, it is a tight rope act. The point, however, is that this is a major obstacle when it comes to being in a crowd.

Add to that social disorder my acute incapacity to carry on small talk. I find that I care so little about the little things that I am a total bore.  I so easily zone out when discussing ice breaker type topics that once I snap back to the conversation I begin saying what first comes into my head like “wow, you have massive forearms” or “I watched this special on dung beetles last night and did you know…” or “my cat killed a mouse last night and all I found was its decapitated body this morning”. Not only does such rhetoric leave the person on the other end of the conversation with absolutely no possible response but they begin to wonder if I am on medication. I begin asking why I am not on medication.

Finally, and probably most importantly, one of my worst nightmares is that my wife or children will be kidnapped. While I don’t know anybody that has ever been kidnapped, whenever I see it in the movies or TV dramas it always seems to happen in crowded places where people seem to be very happy. I use to love anonymous crowds for the sheer joy of observation, but when I am with my family every stranger becomes a potential “perp”.

So I avoid crowds when possible. The last concert I attended was to see the Violent Femmes in 1994 in Chicago. I cannot stand the mall. I am grouchy and uneasy when my family goes to the local fairs or parades and while I love the Chi-town museums I am almost crawling out of my skin on the crowded free days.

So I get it when Jesus goes to the mountain after feeding the 5,000; or in other parts of the gospel narrative where he quietly withdraws from the crowds to spend time alone with his disciples. The challenge I face is to ensure I don’t medicate the draining effect of the crowd with the numbing effect of the internet, the TV, or (name your interactive medium).  It is to the mountain or the sea I must go.

Yet, it is usually a challenge for me to face God; to put knees to ground and pray. I fall short within the crowd so often I find it difficult to once again go to the Lord in my varying degrees of failure. I was of the notion that Jesus should send the crowd away, back to the towns to eat. And when Jesus tells me “You give them something to eat” putting aside the logistic impossibility of the thing is only the first obstacle. It is in the gracious service of the often bestial masses my heart kicks and screams. So going to the mountain to debrief the Lord in the failure of my love is often overwhelming. It is much easier to unwind in front of the discovery channel’s special documentary on dung beetles.

So the crowd represents not only a trial upon my heart but the looming mountain ahead. Though I have a gracious and compassionate understanding of God, it has not grown any easier to admit weakness and failure to Him especially as so much hangs in the balance. Yet, the great Counselor spurs me onward both to the crowds (I leave for campus soon to share my faith and lead a Bible discussion) and further ahead to the mountain (the inevitable prayer walk around the park following an afternoon on campus).