The conversation

So here is how it typically goes when I meet someone, the conversation flows, (I’m assuming we have a great girl with a sparkling personality and some intelligence) I talk about God, usually say something about how He has helped me in some way, everyone gets quiet…. “Are you a Christian? Yeah I don’t really believe in that God…” Not the greatest time for me to say that not only do I believe in Jesus I believe He lives in me and His Holy Spirit guides me . I can’t deny that He is the biggest reality in my life so I try to state my faith as tactically and inoffensive as possible. But it’s hard. The name Jesus has become an offense! The bible said this would happen. So I go into explaining mode, I have less than 5 seconds before that door closes and my reputation and the fate of this new aquantinceship is sealed. “I love Jesus and I do all the things Christians do like to go church and pray, in fact I pray actually more than the average churchgoer, you see it keeps me sane, not that I’m insane, well maybe a little…”  by now my five seconds have run out but I’m only picking up speed… “see praying to me is like having a conversation so I’m constantly in my head just talking to God about everything I see, experience and sometimes smell. Because that is what He is to me ; a personal God, he doesn’t have a secretary like a priest or someone that I have to leave messages with. The altar is within me and everyday I don’t bring an offer to please Him, I climb on the altar myself and ask Him to let His holy fire burn in me and burn away that which does not please Him and to keep the good.” by now either everyone is quietly listening or im talking to my cup… “I am fully committed to God and Christ because He is fully committed to me, he tends to me and sits with me when I wake up whether I acknowledge him or not. He cries when I cry not only because He understands but because His little girl is hurting. When I ignore Him and do the wrong things that I know are no good, He doesn’t walk away and wash his hands of me, He stays there… He is Good and pure and free of all evil and wrong doing but He stoops down to conquer me and He sits on the ash heap with me patiently enduring my screams at Him waiting for me to give Him a moment. When He sees I’m ready He gets up so that He can give me a hand. I serve a God who holds me. Little unknown me. That’s why I’m a Christian because to my Jesus, every single person matters and He takes interest in them and if it means you cannot agree with me or agree to disagree, then I guess this is it for us. but I will always be there if you need to talk. I may not have the answers, but the God in me has placed compassion in me so I will at least feel with you what you feel.” she is still sitting there, I dunno if it is out of being polite or genuine curiosity. I want to say something again but she interrupts me… “so you think that there is a God that rather than being served wants to be loved and included?” “Yes He has the angels that serve Him, He wants more, he wants to die for you and have you die for Him back. You see we live in this world and we make it about shoes and friends and charity and jobs and apartments and even our kids and then we find an open hole in our heart and shove a god of sorts in there but when you die to Christ, when you decide to let every thought go through Him first, to put Him first and to live off His every command, He changes the shape of your heart and all those things you were building your life around is still there, now they just fit, they make sense and there is no hole for God, the whole heart is shaped after Him. A lot to think about I know… ” “Meet you here again tomorrow?” she says. My stomach flutters and my whole face turns red…  “sure, coffee on me”


2 thoughts on “The conversation

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s