Change for a Twenty

Egocentric

/ˌēɡōˈsentrik/

adjective

Definition of egocentric:

1. thinking only of oneself, without regard for the feelings or desires of others; self-centered.

“We plan, God laughs.”

                        —Yiddish Proverb

Have you ever been taught a lesson and you didn’t even realize class was in session? Like LaRusso’s training before entering the All Valley (I’ll try to keep my Karate Kid references to a minimum). Such lessons are both uncomfortable and rewarding. Uncomfortable because they challenge stagnant philosophies, worldviews, and the status quo; rewarding because they foster positive change. A few years back, I had one of those “wax on, wax off” moments (last one I promise).

I had just accepted a therapy position at a local clinic and needed to pick up a couple items to give my new office that certain je ne sais quoi (that’s French for lamps, I think). Now, I’ve always been a little more HGTV than ESPN, so a quick run to Hobby Lobby wasn’t the worst thing in the world. I was just a little pressed for time so the stop couldn’t take long. But thankfully I knew exactly what I needed. Or so I thought.

I had just made my purchase and was crossing the parking lot when a voice called out from behind me.

“Hey, do you have some money so I can get something from 7-11?”

The man looked to be in his late 20s. He also looked like he could use more than a just a Slurpee.

“Shoot. Sorry.”

My response was quick. Too quick. I knew it. He knew it. And the canned pseudo-sympathetic reply didn’t help. You know the kind I’m talking about. The kind you give when you’re unable to help a friend move because you have tickets to the Hawk’s game. “Shoooot. Really wish I could. (Shrug) Sorry.” Which even that would’ve been almost okay had I not just asked for twenty dollars cash back at checkout.

“Alright. Thanks anyway.”

Now, I could’ve blamed my response on a lot of things. I was in a hurry. The guy looked high. Or due the fact that we were standing in the middle of a heavy downpour, I could’ve gone the Milli Vanilli route. But to do so would’ve been intellectually dishonest (the worst of all the dishonests). And if I learned anything from Milli Vanilli, it’s that dishonesty—intellectual or otherwise—can come back to bite you.

…back to bite you…back to bite you…back to

As I sat in my Jeep, my lesson continued with a significantly shorter question.

“Really?”

This question was of the of the “still small voice” variety.

“What?” I removed my hood and started my engine.

“You don’t have any money?”

“Okay, in my defense, not sure giving him money would be the smartest thing to do. Pretty sure he had meth mouth, so.”

“Did you listen to him?”

“Yeah, I heard him. He asked for money, which he’ll probably use for You knows what.”

“But did you listen to him? What did he say?”

“He said, ‘Can I have some money.’”

“What did he actually say?”

Then, like a child begrudgingly saying what he’s sorry for, I answered, “‘Do you have some money,’”—initiate Eeyore-esque tone—“‘so I can get something from 7-11.’”

“You didn’t have to give him money. You know you could’ve just bought him food, right?”

Does God ever call you out the same way you call someone out? Sort of annoying.

“Yeah, okay. You’re right. But he’s probably long gone by now.”

“It was like a minute ago.”

I turned off my engine and flipped on the hood of my raincoat. “Yeah, I know.”

I spotted the guy a few cars down. “Hey, you said you just want to get something from 7-11?”

“Yeah.”

“Why don’t I just put it on my card.”

Oh, like you’d use the cash that was in your pocket all along either.  

“Okay, great. Thank you.”

The 7-11 was across the parking lot so we walked over together. He told me how long he’s been on the streets and about some of the recent hardships he’d experienced. I told him why I bought lamps.

We entered the mini mart and I told him I’d wait at the register.   

The man grabbed a chocolate milk and then went to the case of hotdogs. “Is it alright if I get a couple of these?”

“Yeah, sure thing.”

He gave both hotdogs the works and brought them to the register. The cashier rung the items up and gave me the total. I slid my debit card from my wallet.

“You’re not going to pay with that, are you?”

“Thinking about it.”

“Cash only. Didn’t you see the sign on the door?”

Never been a fan of rhetorical questions.

“Must’ve missed it.”

I thought for a second (because it only takes a second to dig a deeper hole). Then I answered, “Why don’t I just run back to Hobby Lobby, buy something small, and get some cash back.”

Milli Vanilli was on stage, but the track wasn’t skipping just yet.

I flipped on my hood. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

I ran across the parking lot and back into the craft store. I grabbed a bag of Cheese Nips, jumped in line, and waited.

And waited.

Apparently, every creative thought and aspiration in the greater Everett area was not only being realized but also coming to fruition at the same moment. A vortex of dioramas, vision boards, and home makeovers were making landfall at the corner of 100th and Evergreen. A veritable DIY nightmare.     

The line moved like rubber cement (aisle four if you’re wondering) all the way to checkout.

“Just this for you?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“Just stopped in for some Cheese Nips, huh?”

“Yeah, I really like craft store snacks.”

“You know there’s a 7-11 just over there?”

I took the receipt and flipped on my hood. “Thanks. I think I’ll head over there.”

I ran back through the rain across the parking lot and into the 7-11.

“Where’d he go?” I asked the cashier.

“He’s gone.”

I looked at the counter. “What about the hotdogs?”

“I threw them out.”

“Why?”

But before he answered, the door beeped. “Hey, I didn’t think you were coming back.”

“Yeah, sorry.” I handed him the Cheese Nips. “That took longer than it should’ve.”

The man then retrieved his chocolate milk and reloaded two more hotdogs. I gave the cashier a twenty—the same twenty that was in my wallet the entire time—and after taking my change, the man and I parted ways. As I walked back to my Jeep, it sunk in. It really did take longer than it should’ve.

Egocentrism. It’s a tricky one because it’s not inherently bad. In fact, it can be healthy. Self-care, for example, is by no means altruistic (unless Altruistic is the name of the club where you go to dance it out). Self-care is self-centered. And that’s okay. It’s the egocentrism that hinders us from others-care that’s problematic.

In childhood, egocentrism seems to be somewhat unintentional—an almost innocent, natural self-centeredness. In his preoperational state of cognitive development, psychologist Jean Piaget describes egocentrism as a form of centration among children. That is, an ability to focus on only one aspect of a situation. Such egocentrism, Piaget explains, renders children capable of seeing and contemplating the world only from their personal perspective. Like when I was four years old, I truly believed my parents would appreciate my stamping blue ducks all over everything in their bedroom. Including all over myself. And why wouldn’t they? I thought it was beautiful.

Then in adolescence, we seem to take this natural self-centeredness and add a high dose of self-consciousness to create a different form of egocentrism. Psychologist David Elkind referred to this self-consciousness as an imaginary audience—an observer who exists only in the mind of the adolescent. Elkind writes, "The young adolescent, because of the physiological metamorphosis he is undergoing, is primarily concerned with himself. Accordingly, since he fails to differentiate between what others are thinking about and his own mental preoccupations, he assumes that other people are obsessed with his behavior and appearance as he is himself." And this was back in the 1960s, long before social media came onto the scene. Back when such negative assumptions were a luxury.

By the time we reach adulthood, while egocentrism typically reduces in strength, it nonetheless continues to influence our behavior. Dr. Susan Krauss, Professor Emerita of Psychological and Brain Sciences at the University of Massachusetts Amherst, writes that we never fully outgrow the youthful forms of egocentrism. Rather, it shows up in ways that we may not recognize (think cutting in line, office cliques, or selective hearing in a craft store parking lot). It’s a form of egocentrism that’s subdued. Quiet. Subtle. And from my time as cabin leader at camp, I know that silent and deadly often go hand-in-hand.  

In the book The Art of War, military strategist and philosopher Sun Tzu writes, “Be extremely subtle, even to the point of formlessness. Be extremely mysterious, even to the point of soundlessness. Thereby you can be the director of the opponent’s fate.” What more is egocentrism than a subtle nudge shifting our attention away from others and onto ourselves—a shift that moves us away from loving our neighbor and toward a self-indulged fate?    

St. Augustine wrote, “What does love look like? It has the hands to help others. It has the feet to hasten to the poor and needy. It has the eyes to see misery and want. It has the ears to hear the sighs and sorrows of men. That is what love looks like.” But without recognition of need (an eye to see), there will be no opportunity for hands to help, feet to hasten, or ear to hear (or hotdog to buy).

Being others-focused doesn’t come naturally. From a young age, self-focus seems to be the default. Perhaps that’s why the Apostle Paul encouraged his companion Timothy to “be prepared in season and out of season” (2 Timothy 4:2, NIV). Maybe it was a reminder to him to keep the subtle influences of egocentrism in check. Maybe it’s a reminder for us as well.

That day in the Hobby Lobby parking lot, I planned and God laughed. And not maliciously; He just had something much better in mind. Some of the best lessons I’ve learned have been taught outside the classroom. That day between Hobby Lobby and 7-11 was no exception. Between my lamps and the impromptu Messianic Master Class, I walked away a little more enlightened. A reminder of purpose (to love) and a change in perspective (to see). And all for the price of some minimart food.

I feel fortunate. Such change can come at a much higher cost. Me? I paid next to nothing. I got change for a twenty.

Philippians 2:3-4

Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves, not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of the others” (NIV).

Hebrews 13:2

“Do not forget to show hospitality to strangers, for by so doing some people have shown hospitality to angels without knowing it” (NIV).