The other day, our neighbor from across the street entertained a guest. The guest had a dog, and the dog pooped. The guest bagged the poop and set it on the curb near her car, which was parked in front of my house. Then, she and my neighbor prepared to set off for a walk. I happened to be leaving at the same time, and suspecting that the guest would “forget” the poop, I disingenuously said, “You forgot your bag.” “It’s just poop,” she replied. “I’ll get it later.” No such luck. Hours later, the guest had left, but her bag of poop remained.
For some reason, alien dog poop on our property seems an offense against our persons. Homeowners battle it in various ways. Some place cutesy-pootsy signs, saying “I don’t poop in your kitchen; please don’t let your dog poop on my lawn.” Or, they post notices that are more direct: “Respect our family and clean up after your dog.” Others supply plastic bags in the hopes that dog owners will have no excuse to walk away empty-handed. Still others fence in their entire yards.
The small, mean part of me wondered if she had left the bag precisely because I had asked her to take care of it. That same small, mean part of me wanted to place the poop bag across the street by my neighbor’s house as she had witnessed the whole interaction, and I held her somehow “responsible” for her guest’s lack of courtesy. My husband was incredulous when I told him. “You want to do what? Why risk causing enmity over a bag of poop? Just throw the poop away, for goodness’ sake.” My self-righteousness popped like a soap bubble, and I felt properly ridiculous.
Yesterday at church, during a discussion of 1 Corinthians 10:23, ("You say,'I am allowed to do anything'--but not everything is beneficial for us”) the preacher suggested four questions we might use as a template for our actions.
1. Is it good for me? Does it strengthen me or make me healthy?
2. Does it build up or encourage the people around me?
3. Could I say that I am doing this for the glory of God?
4. Does it help me tell the story of Jesus?
I decided to bring these questions to bear on the dog poop issue.
1. Is it “good” for me to toss a bag of dog poop on my neighbor’s driveway? Does it strengthen me in any way?
Why no. I’d say it marks me as a person with a soul no bigger than a thimble and indicates spiritual dis-ease rather than health. Taking revenge always leaves us smaller in the end. Retaliation doesn’t strengthen us, for it panders to our ego. Anything that encourages self-righteousness weakens us. From the ego’s perspective, we feel we must have things our way in order to flourish. We must be proven “right” in order to be happy.
2. Does throwing a bag of poop on my neighbor’s lawn build up or encourage the people around me?
Not at all. Rather than building up those around me by modeling kindness, generosity, or forbearance, my action sullies them, as it illustrates fallen human nature. Frankly, it’s discouraging to see people at their worst. It makes us embarrassed for them and worried about humankind in general. More specifically, my neighbor might not even remember the origin of the bag. She might merely see it as a stranger’s discourtesy to her, which would just pass on the bad feeling. On the other hand, she might remember the incident and then wonder why I needed to force the issue. Again, bad feeling would result, not encouragement. My husband, the witness, would begin shopping on e-bay for a replacement spouse, one a little less mean-spirited.
3. Could I say that I am flinging poop on my neighbors lawn “for the Glory of God”?
Giggle with me now. When I thought of this incident during the sermon, I blushed. I think (and the pastor thought as well) that this question would effectively rule out most dubious actions. Whenever we hesitate as we are tempted to speak harshly, criticize unfairly, seek our own advantage, or make fast and loose with a sensible rule, we need to ask, “Can I truly say I’m doing this for the glory of God”? If we can’t answer “yes” with a straight face, we need to move on to plan B. My little act of revenge would not pass muster.
4. Does it help to tell the story of Jesus?
Sigh. Again no. As a Christian, the story of Jesus that I want to tell is how he modeled loving kindness, how he held his rights with an open hand, allowing them to be taken away to serve the greater good. My small act of meanness would tell a very different story, that of a person still unmoved by the Holy Spirit, that of a person still putting herself first rather than God or her neighbor.
I'll admit, wanting revenge for dog poop carelessness was an idea rotten from the get-go. The only decent option was to clean up after the dog owner, giving her the benefit of the doubt and mastering my sense of personal injury. Thank goodness my husband was there to deflate my self-importance and save me from my worst self and further embarrassment. That was an example of marriage vows in action. Now, armed with these four questions, I hope I will be less dependent on his presence to "do the right thing" when my smaller self is at the wheel. Give them a try in your own life, and let me know how they work.
