This morning, I would like to spend a few moments talking about "defining moments."

"When it was almost time for the Jewish Passover, Jesus went up to Jerusalem. In the Temple courts, he found men selling cattle, sheep, and doves, and others sitting at tables exchanging money. So he made a whip out of cords and drove all from the temple area, both sheep and cattle; he scattered the coins of the money changers and overturned their tables. To those who sold doves, he said, 'Get these out of here! How dare you turn my father's house into a market!'"
- John, Chap. 2, v. 13-16

"Jesus wept." (on hearing of Lazarus' death)
- John, Chap. 11, v. 35

These are examples of what, to me, are two defining moments in the life of Jesus. Defining moments are impulsive actions or reactions that reflect who we are when we act without thinking. Let me give another example. Dori Miller, a mess attendant, impulsively ignored the order to abandon ship and carried his wounded commander to safety. He then impulsively ignored the order forbidding blacks to fire the ship's weapons and began firing the USS West Virginia's antiaircraft guns to try and save his ship. He defined himself in those moments as a Pearl Harbor hero. I wish I had a defining moment like that.

We also have what might be called "descriptive moments": those things we do that reflect conscious choices we make. We choose to work hard or not work; we choose to tithe or not tithe; we choose to champion or oppose causes. In this sense, the cross was not a defining moment for Christ; instead, it described him. As much as he wanted the cup to pass from his lips, he chose to sacrifice himself. Descriptive moments reflect conscious decisions. We have a chance to think about what to do and we make choices. On the other hand, defining moments, like Jesus kicking the money changers out of the Temple or Dori Miller defending his ship, just happen with no thought or planning. For me, they are more revealing because they tell us whether we are what we believe. If we have to think in order to act as we believe, then our beliefs have not yet become a part of us. Descriptive moments, and there are many in our lives, may reflect how we have chosen to live; but it seems to me that if we want to see our souls as they really are, our defining moments are clear windows through which we can look.

Defining moments also can be used to gauge our progress as Christians. First, of course, we need to establish a base-line. We need to think back to the first defining moments we remember and then examine ourselves today to see whether we really have changed.

I don't know about you, but I am not proud of the first defining moment I remember.

The story begins in Atlanta, Georgia. I was raised by my divorced mother in a single parent household. For my first twelve years, we lived in a part of Atlanta that everyone considered across the tracks, including those who lived across the tracks. My brother and I did not play catch in the park on lazy summer days; we had rock fights with other white trash kids on Alleen Avenue. To state it politely, I was a discipline problem as a child. I was even kicked out of the Cub Scout troop my Mother made me join. Then, when I was in the sixth grade, we moved to West Palm Beach, Florida. A little thug from Atlanta was not an easy fit in what was then a small, quiet paradise of swaying palms, gentle breezes and girls wearing bathing suits. This brings me to my first defining moment.

One Saturday, shortly after we had moved to Florida, I walked across Tuscaloosa street from our small house to the playground of my new elementary school. I saw an overweight boy playing. I was lean and athletic and loved to fight. I walked over to him and without saying a word, I hit him as hard as I could in the stomach. He fell to the ground. He cried as he struggled to catch his breath. I did not plan it. I did not think even about it. Like a dog marking territory, I impulsively hit him because he was there. It was as simple and brutal as that.

It was only then that I noticed his father. I braced for a beating but all he did was walk over to his son, pick him up and dust him off. He then looked at me. I did not have the maturity to see how I had defined myself in that impulsive moment. Without saying a word - just by his look - the boy's father did it for me. Someone probably had looked at me like that before, but for the first time that I remember, I clearly saw a dark soul in the reflection of that father's eyes - I saw a person who was mean; a small person who struck out at another for no purpose other than to cause pain and embarrassment.

That is the first defining moment I remember. Thankfully it was not my last, but I can still feel it today.

For me, one of the greatest mysteries of Christianity is that by simply opening our hearts to Christ, we somehow are able to have our definitions changed. Our souls get rewired so that our impulses - our defining moments - are different. To me, the process of being a Christian, might be compared to the process of learning a foreign language. When I was taught to speak a Philippine dialect in Peace Corps, I knew I was making progress when I found myself thinking occasionally and even dreaming in the language. Our progress as Christians can be measured in a similar way if, at different points in our lives, we examine our impulses - examine how we act in those defining moments.

I do not remember when Christ began to change my definitions, although I think it was sometime between the two times that I was baptized. I also do not remember why I was baptized twice, other than my first baptism in Atlanta clearly did not take. And even though I have been twice immersed, I know there are many more definitions in my life that need to be changed. But with all that still needs to be done, I am thankful that because of Christ, at least the thug from Atlanta was washed away. Of course, I still know how to act like a thug and occasionally I do act like one. But because of the grace of Christ, it no longer comes naturally.

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