Minnesota Nice

I want to be Minnesota nice.

I ran into the mom of a friend of mine recently. Reaching for friendly banter, I remembered that she came from the twin cities. My brother just moved to the twin cities.

We struck up a conversation about her home town peeps.

People in Minnesota are really nice, she said. They are so nice they let you get ahead of them in line. They are so nice they hardly get mad, they smile a lot, and they say please and thank you on a regular basis.

They are so nice, when you pull up to a yield sign, they stop for several minutes making sure the other person goes first.

When I get to a yield sign, I hurry up and accelerate and hope the other guy gets a clue.

When I get to a yield sign, I fight for my rights. I plow and I press that gas pedal making sure no one gets an inch on me.

When I get to a yield sign, I’m reminded of who I really am: a me centered, lina focused, self serving sinful creature in dire need of a savior.

But I want to be Minnesota nice.

I want to yield, and I want to yield often.

I want to yield to the Holy Spirit of God on little things and big things.

I want to yield early, I want to yield daily. I want to yield when there is a question of who goes first. I want to yield when no one is looking, and when all eyes are on me. I want to yield because I live for someone greater than me.

I want to yield to the person next to me, stalling until it’s clear that I have no rights, that I don’t deserve to go first, that I am not living for my personal kingdom growth, but for another, unseen one, that matters eternally.

I want to be Minnesota nice.

What about you?

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