I hate it when there's a line at the store, or frankly any place. Typically, I just leave if I can, or I tap my foot impatiently and feel pressure across my forehead - or I fume in my mind, and calculate all the ways I could make the line move faster if they'd put me in charge. In elementary school we had "line monitors," to be sure nobody elbowed their way to the front, knowing the pushy guys would if they could.
I suspect Jesus doesn't mind lines. A line is a lesson in courtesy, in deferring to others. If I imagine standing in line with Jesus, I might even yield my place to the person I notice behind me who's stressed.
If I am in line, I might reminisce about my grandparents, who stood in lines during the Depression just to get a little food. In many places in God's world, people still stand in line for necessities, to see a nurse, for a chance at a job.
Church delights in lines. The choir processes in a line; we queue up for Holy Communion. These one-after-another movements remind us we are not just meandering aimlessly through life. We are part of something magnificent. We are going somewhere.
And in good company. A line reminds me I am not alone. In Jerusalem we encountered a massive crowd pressing in to see where Jesus was crucified. We were tempted to feel put off, until we thought, What if no one was there? I am glad many came to the place that makes us one. When I am in line, I can imagine the great procession of God's saints through the ages, gradually inching toward God's throne.
When I'm in line, I can think like Jesus.