Read this~

I don't do two posts in a day because.... well, for one, no one needs that much of my brain in one day. In spite of my last post, I just had to put this here. I was about to start school with the non-sick school age kid, and I happened upon this. Now I'm just sitting, starting at the computer. I don't know why this has undone me so. I think it's because where my heart longs to be. Or maybe because I'm jealous. Or maybe because it's what I've been spinning over in my head. Oh who cares. It's not about me. Read this with me, please. (It was written by a high school friend of mine.)

This Ain’t Where You From

by "_________" on Tuesday, January 11, 2011 at 2:08pm

Since I have been in East Lake, I have really struggled with an identity crisis.  It reached a climax last week when I met a man while out walking in search of a place that provides free Wi-Fi.  Since my van is out of gas and has a flat tire, I have been reduced to walking, a reduction I now know to be a blessing given how familiar I have become with the local area and people as a result.  On my first walk, I came to a group of people that looked like fellow transients congregating outside The Episcopal Church in Woodlawn.   So, seeing an ideal opportunity to network with a local ministry, I decided to stop and introduce myself.  One of them standing just outside the door said he worked there as a part of their food ministry.  He told me in about an hour they would be serving ham, black-eyed peas and collard greens and I was welcome to stay and eat.  Excited by the chance for such a fine meal, I gratefully accepted his invitation.  After conversing for a while with him and a few others in the group, I told him about my original quest to find Wi-Fi.  He pointed across the street to a sign outside what he said was the library that read “Free Wi-Fi,” a sign I am certain to have missed had I not stopped to talk since I did not know Woodlawn even had a library.  I thanked him for the clue I so did not have then began looking both ways to find a crosswalk.  They said “No!  Across the street!”  I said, “I know!  I’m looking for a crosswalk!”  They said “Just cross the street!”  Concerned I might misrepresent my faith by breaking the law I asked, “Isn’t that jaywalking?”   Though stunned for a moment, one of them chuckled as he responded, “This ain’t where you from!”  Offended by his stereotype, I told him I grew up not far from here.  I started to explain I am not as alien as he assumes me to be as I thought about how similar he and I really are.  He interrupted before I could, reiterating with a smile, “No!  You don’t understand!  This ain’t where you from!”  I never cease to be amazed by how God so often speaks with such characteristic profundity through such seemingly unintentional, unlikely and unrehearsed ways.  As he said it again, I was stunned into silence as I heard God say, “This ain’t where you from!”    

I am fascinated by the complexity of the perceptions of identity and purpose developed in response to the God given ability to ask, “Who am I?”  Generally, the question is answered by a personal name and a list of categorized attributes that more explain “who we are.”  The majorities of humanity huddle in groups of likeness that establish singular identities among their many members, identities otherwise known as cultures.  Many cultural categories are global such as economic class, gender, common interests, vocations and religions.  For example, as a wealthy man, it may be assumed I like to buy nice things and I am attracted to beautiful women.  If I am concerned about my physique, it may be assumed I am careful about what I eat and I exercise.  If I am a master carpenter, it may be assumed I am skilled in woodwork.  If I am a Christian, it may be assumed I am a follower of Jesus Christ.  Other categories are characterized by geography and history such as language, race, food, nationality and traditions.  For example, as an American, it may be assumed I speak English and I celebrate our country’s independence day on the 4th of July.  Further, having been born and raised in Alabama, it may be assumed I eat Bar-B-Q on the 4th of July and I recommend Bar-B-Q by saying, “Ya’ll should try it.”  All of these are legitimate cultural assumptions to me because they are true of the majority of individuals I know in each category.  These assumptions are also called stereotypes.  Stereotypes are efficient but, as I’m sure you have already guessed, they are not always reliable since an individual may be representative of the minority.  Minorities are an exception to the majority rule of the same category that makes one distinct from it though they are still part of it.  For example, I may be wealthy but live poor, a man who prefers men, vain but eat junk food, a master carpenter who is not skilled, a Christian who does not follow Christ, an American who speaks Spanish, or a southerner who is a vegan and says “you all should try tofu.”  People are not necessarily who they seem to be or even who they once claimed to be, much less who they should be.   

As such, I understand the accurate stereotypes that make me foreign to the men who gave me directions.  I’m white.   I grew up in a middle class family that was very involved in church.  Neither my family nor my church would have welcomed them as family.  I am well educated, well read, and well traveled as a result of choosing options readily available to my culture but unimaginable to his.  They do not see people from my culture here very often and the ones they have seen were only passing through, keeping their distance in fear and revulsion as they made their way out.  I used to be one of them, which is why I felt at first so compelled to confess I’m not one of them now.  Now, to my people, I am one of these people.  I am broken, needy, transient, unemployed, untidy, undignified, unrespectable and unacceptable.  I am a traitor to their values and shunned as an outcaste.   Many of my family and friends are ashamed of me.  Nevertheless, when I was told “this ain’t where you from,” I was reminded I’m not one of these either.  I am a “one of them” to both and a “one of us” to neither; quite the incongruity, serving as quite the reminder of where I am really from. 

Incongruities are a reminder to me because they are common to my people.  We must die so we may live, fall so we may be lifted up, lose to gain, be weak to be made strong, be a doormat to be dignified, be poor to become rich, be the least to be the greatest, and be a slave to be free.  What God does through us is not us.  We love our enemy, serve selflessly, forgive repeatedly, and invest in eternity.   Our real is unreal. The pretend wise are made fools and pretend fools are made wise.  Pretend treasures are made worthless and the worthless are made invaluable.  We are unnatural because we are made supernatural.   We rejoice when we suffer, clap for joy while we weep with sorrow, claim victory in defeat, believe the unbelievable, and love the unlovable.   We are unified though diversified sharing community with the Trinity in whom the unknowable is made knowable, the mundane is made mystical, the fantastical is made trivial, and the unimaginable becomes manageable.  We live partly in infinity until the day we enter it fully.  Such is the incongruity of this present reality and the hope of going home eternally.     

Homesickness is a blessing when the home we miss is heaven.  It reminds me not to even try to get comfortable here because I won’t be here long enough and the people of this world are not my people; not yet anyway.  Though I should not try to fit in I should not try to stay out either.  Instead of trying to identify with them, I am to be Christ so they can decide to identify with him.  “Who I am” is really a “who we are,” for the body of Christ is an every growing community of Christ followers who are possessed by his Spirit.  We are made one and share one purpose; we are to be the body of Christ and draw all men to him by going to them.  The body of Christ is the only stereotype that applies to us because there is no other stereotype that can rightly describe us.  We do not share fellowship with the world; we invite those in the world to come share fellowship with us.  That does not mean we should, as many have, isolate ourselves by building bigger buildings as we include others in our fellowship.  We are the Church who carry the fellowship to them.  Even if I am the only believer within a hundred miles, I worship in community with the Trinity.  I carry the light of the gospel into dark places, looking for those he has given eyes to see and are willing to leave the shadows and walk in the light.  When I find one, I share community with him, teaching him our Way and including him as a new citizen and fellow heir of our kingdom.  When he is ready, I will send him out as we were sent out, as a foreigner carrying the light of the gospel into dark places to draw all people to the One community who lives in him.  My work is not done until all people know and Christ comes to take me home.  When I go home I want my Father to be proud of me for completing the work he sent me here to do, to be able to see his smiling face and hear the words, “Well done!”  My hope in that day drives me on.  Therefore, when I again hear “This ain’t where you from,” my heart will leap with excitement at the reminder I am on my way.