godwho's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Gahhh. I never heard of this guy who's the president of the Evangelical Preachers' Association or whatever until my mom was asking me if I'd heard of him... I think the assumes all of the evangelical-type people must know each other, mostly because it seems like all of the members of her denomination (which swears it's not a denomination) do seem to know each other. Well, I hadn't heard of him. Several days passed before I had time this afternoon to read up briefly on the situation online. First of all, just looking at the file pictures of him, I have to ask: Who wouldn't think he was gay? I mean, just by looking at him? I spent several years as an unknowing fag hag, but even I could have tagged him from miles away. Anyway, it just goes to prove my point that Christians have no business getting into bed with politics (pun intended), or as setting ourselves up as paragons of virtue when, let's face it, none of us are. Had this man just been living his life quietly, loving people around him and trying to humbly advance the cause of God (including loving instead of bashing gay people, but, in his case, without such a hands-on approach), then this "revelation" about his own homosexual activity wouldn't 1) be a lightning rod (no pun intended) at which people who are just waiting for another excuse to hate Christians can aim, 2) hurt thousands of people, and 3) and most importantly, tarnish the image of Christ (I'm talking about the hypocricy, not the man-on-man action). 9:52 p.m. - 2006-11-05 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The trade There is a story I�ve recounted in my personal journal about a week spent at camp when I was about ten years old: At the beginning of the week, our cabin counselor told us that there would be a talent show on the last night of camp, and she asked us what we wanted to do for the talent show. We came up with an idea which I don�t remember, but it involved our having to dress nicely, so we were reminded daily to save our best outfit for the program. Friday night came, and I donned the thing I�d brought which I thought was the fanciest. It was a white shirt with a big teddy bear on it. The teddy bear had a ribbon on its head, which was an actual ribbon on the shirt. After I put it on, the counselor pulled me aside and said, �Remember, you were supposed to save your best shirt for tonight.� I innocently remarked that what I had on was my best shirt. She then opened her drawer, rummaged through, and handed me a frilly button-up red gingham blouse. I relayed that story in telling about how poor we were growing up, and remember it with a tiny stab of pain for the embarrassment the confrontation, sweet as it was, caused me. But today, as I told the story to another audience, a truth hit me that has never occurred to me before� That exchange was a beautiful picture of our lives and what God does for us. We live, trying to do the best we can do and be the best we can be. In our wee brains, we think the things we accomplish for good are somehow enough to pass muster and warrant God�s approval. Then we reach the end, intending to parade proudly before God and everyone our finest. But God�s standards, like my counselor�s, are so much higher than ours. Our best can never be good enough. But he doesn�t just leave us to go out in our rags and crash and burn. He pulls us aside � at least he tries to, even pursuing us relentlessly as we run away from him � and says, �That�s not going to work. You can�t wear that in here.� Then he condescends to give us the shirt off of his very son�s back, so that when he looks as us, he doesn�t see the stupid teddy bear with that ragged bow and the stain on the left sleeve. He sees perfection. Not because of anything we did, but because he gave it to us as a very expensive gift. I love parables, and I�m always a little overwhelmed with wonder when one pops up in real life. Now I can cherish that memory as a treasure instead of cringing when I think about it. 9:50 p.m. - 2006-10-18 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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