One of the things one rarely talks about at work is religion. It’s part of that triad of topics traditionally considered to be taboo at the table (the other two being sex and politics), and that same triad is typically avoided at work. Given the demographics of this particular office and state (the latter being the buckle of the Bible Belt), it’s safe to assume most of my co-workers are Christian. But only two have talked about it to any degree.
One is Dianne, who is an African American and a member of a Baptist Church. I mention Dianne’s cultural heritage only because the African American Baptists are very distinct in their traditions and beliefs than Caucasian Baptists.
I’ll admit I am prejudiced – against Baptists. When I learned Dianne was a Baptist, I feared she would try to proselytize me. I feared we would argue about some arcane of theology. I learned over time that Dianne was a reasonable person, and wasn’t concerned with proselytizing her co-workers. In fact, she was involved in her church in ways similar to how I was involved in mine.
The first Christmas after I joined the office, I gave Dianne a card in which I wrote how glad I was to work in an area with a fellow Christian. Since then, she has approached me as a friend and sibling in the faith.
Yesterday, she told me about an incident that happened when she and team of missionaries went to witness to a relatively rough neighborhood. After she knocked, a man came to the door, and she asked him if he had thought about his salvation.
He responded that he hadn’t, and he didn’t care about it.
She was shocked by his response, and seemed to hope that I would be shocked as well.
I assume the man just didn’t want to be bothered, and had chosen a rude method of communicating that message. I also pointed out that it was possible he was trying to get a rise out of her. There are people who enjoy getting other peoples’ goat.
If she was disappointed that I didn’t share her shock, she didn’t let on. But she just couldn’t understand how someone could be so cavalier about their eternal state.
Episcopalians don’t talk about salvation very much. Even a recovering Baptist who has transferred her membership to the Episcopal church is not likely to ask: "Have you been saved," even though that was once part of her tradition. An Episcopalian is more likely to give you a dissertation on the root meaning of the word (root of salvation is salve, which means to be healed or whole).
What question would I have posed to the man, if I had been part of Dianne’s team?
When I ask myself this, I immediately remember a scene from the musical version of The Cottonpatch Gospel. The musical, by Harry Chapin, translates the traditional story of Jesus’ life to the deep South during segregation. In one scene, Jesus meets Matthew (the tax collector) for the first time. Jesus sits across the table and asks, "Do you like what you’re doing?"
I think that might be a more meaningful question to many people. There’s more concern about current needs and pleasures than the future. And one of the most common criticisms of Christianity is that it’s all pie in the sky in the great by and by. What might the response be if I asked person if they were pleased with how their life is right now?
How would I respond? I may not seem happy, but I am joyous. And I take solace in the belief that I do not walk my road alone.
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