Jonah was a punk

After 3 years of attending the World's largest Baptist University, I've finally joined a Bible study... and I'm sticking to it. It's a "Life Group" made up of people who go to Calvary Baptist Church. I'm enjoying it a lot. My fears that I would be judged because I didn't know every chapter of the Bible have proven to be unfounded.

From the very first moment I met my group, as I walked in an hour and forty minutes late because I accidentally hit the "reset" button on my alarm, I felt less like I was jumping in the deep end of the pool and more that I was jumping into a vat of jello. Mmmmm, jello! And by that, I mean, they were sweet, but they had some substance to them... and something tells me that if I was recovering from massive surgery, doctors would probably give me a lime-flavored version of these people. ;)

And they're funny! For instance, when we returned from our week off after Spring Break, the first question we asked was "what did we do on our week off"? At this one of my favorite people in our group, Martin, started off by saying "well this is something that's never happened to me before..."

Now people, before I get into the story, please let me preface by telling you a little about Martin. He's a "somewhere in his fifties" years-young electrician married to a brilliant Doctor. He's burly, yet okay with himself. Think "Bounty paper towels" guy listening to Enya. Anyways back to the story...

[insert Texan twang with a slight rasp in the voice]
"Well, the other night I was in my boxers about to go to bed when I went out to the garage to close the doors an' I seen this guy in the corner rummagin' through stuff." he said.

I look around the room. People are interested. "So what'd you do?" Meghan Becker asked with a justified amount of incredulity.

"Well, I started hollerin' at 'im! 'what're you doin' in muh garage?!?!" Martin barked.

At this I hear a whimper. Looking around the room, I found no culprit... eventually I realized it was me.

"He tried to run so I chased him."

"Did you capture hime?" Priscilla asked in her gorgeous Aussi accent.

"I tackled him.... an' I kept 'im pinned until the police my wife called showed up."

We all laughed and asked a few questions and procured a few clarifications. As the conversation died down, there was a slightly awkward silence. Then I looked up at this rock of a man in awe-struck admiration and, much to my surprise, uttered: "Martin... you are exactly 57 times the man I am."

I was absolutely serious. There is no way I would ever chase a guy down like that... unless he said something about the Cubs or Spider-Man or something... but even then the most I'd be able to do is maybe throw my shoe at him -but even then, I'd probably do it screaming like a Tri-Delt with a bug on her shoulder. I'm a lover, not a fighter. Right, Mary? :-D Soccer moms rule.

This group of people... they're special. And no, I don't mean "special" in the "Jerry's kids" way either. I mean it in the "central Texas cable company that carries all the Cubs games" kind of way. Unexpected, a little random, but completely needed in my life.

At the last meeting we started talking about suffering and the role its to play in our lives as Christians. I'll spare you the exact details but basically Christy asked a rhetorical question. I commented on it and sounded like an ass in the process. (Please, hold back your shock) The reason I made this comment the way I did... its a point of view that's very much been shaped by my past. To explain it, I had to share what many Baptists, much to my ire, would call my "witness" or "testimony". It killed me. I almost started to cry half way through it. I felt so... I didn't want to be telling this story

Listen, I know I've been through some big stuff in my life. Not necessarily all that hard. But I've been told "my story" is quite inspiring. So if I feel so close to these people, why is it that I had such a hard time sharing "my story" with them? I know it wasn't because of the story itself. I mean, I don't really care to talk about it, but I do it all the time. So why the problem?

The fact of the matter is that certain events in my past, while extremely formative of who I am today, are not all that I'm about. In the portrait of my life, my cancer is but a button on my lapel, or a wort on my chin. It is not all I'm about. I fancy there's a little more to the man. But when I tell people this story, they automatically assume that I'm "so special." I'm "going to help so many people; do so much good." Somewhere in there, my chest starts to get tight and doubts begin to form.

Listen people, jiminy christmas if you only had the audience with the thoughts that run through my head on a daily basis that I do. I think I'm an alright guy. And yes, I know God has a very special plan for me. But if I do whatever it is he wants me to do, I'm sure he's going to be the one to blame, not me. There's a reason I sympathize so much with Jonah. He was a punk. The only only thing he did right was he said "okay, God. Whatever. Fine! I'll do it... but I promise I won't like it and it won't do any good anyways". And it took his running away, hoping a boat, inciting a sea-storm, getting thrown overboard and eaten by a whale to before he even got that right. Yeah, if I do whatever it is God has in store for me, its going to be because he didn't give me much of a choice. The only thing I have going for me, is a willing heart... most of the time. I hardly see how that much makes me deserving of much acclaim.

The biggest reason I hate it that people who hear "my story" tend to see me differently, is that I am a "panderer". I pander. I love to give people what they want. If people think I'm special, I want, desperately, to play the part. And its exhausting.

I just like it when people like me for me. Not because I'm incredibly good-looking. Not because I smell like heaven. Not because I'm a miracle. I like it when people get annoyed with me because I know its me, they're annoyed with. Its not my reputation. Its usually not jealousy. It is I who has done something to earn their contempt. Only friends would stick around after the illusion is dispeled. Call me weird, but I like that. There's a comfort in knowing that you have a little control over how you are viewed.

So there it is. I put a problem out there. How do I fix it? Maybe I should give myself the benefit of the doubt and trust I'm a swell enough guy. Maybe I should keep playing "hide and seek" with a past I'm not ashamed of. But I think I'd rather give my friends a little credit and trust the Holy Spirit to bless them with discernment. Whatever the solution, you can be sure I'll still keep pissing people off. Now only if I could work on not doing for the sake of my own self-esteem...