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December 18, 2005
Defective Stammer
December finds me contemplating Christmas and it's dueling combatants of materialism and faith taking center stage; prepping for the ensuing mental conflict. The consumerist in me has already been defeated, not because of some self-imposed idealistic doctrine but, rather in that I am woefully short on funds and to engage in gift giving would be an exercise in futility. I take the act quite seriously adhering to the adage that if I cannot fully immerse myself in the genuine spirit of the practice that I should simply postpone it til next year. That being said, my mind is free to obsess over other things...Jesus things...and their implication therein.
I volunteered was forced into joining a Christmas drama presentation at my church and am still tormented with the social taboos enacted to accomplish the securing of my participation. I am rather involved already: leading the junior high youth group, helping with senior high and working the Powerpoint presentations for Sunday worship. The assumption was made that because I can do those things that standing up in front of people, a white male illogically dressed in poor imitation Middle Eastern wear, and deliver impassioned lines about the coming of Jesus. When first asked if I would take part my answer was as clear as could be made, "No." I said, "Drama isn't my thing, I really have no desire to do it whatsoever." The look of confusion on Allison's face should have warned me that I hadn't enunciated enough, that somehow my English had become garbled or perhaps I was speaking in tongues. This was evidenced by her informing me that I would be playing the part of Jacob, a stable-boy fascinated by the gifts brought by the Magi.
I was so shocked by the way these events took place that I gave an equal dumbstruck expression; perhaps it was 'opposite day' or maybe I couldn't quite understand her English. When these sorts of things happen I tend to go along with whoever asserts themselves most. It is this exact sentiment that keeps Elementary School classrooms forging ahead with a futile education model.
"You will do this worksheet," the teacher informs you, "because you need to." And you do because your teacher is taller and a whole lot more confident. That very morning you put your shoes on the wrong feet so who are you to trust your base instincts and the inkling that you would learn more by looking out the window rather than finishing your fill-in-the-blanks worksheet on the war of 1812?
I took the same stance...maybe she was onto something, maybe God was calling me to get the word out about his gospel. Perhaps through this terrible experience I would learn something, I would be stretched and a better person for it. Well, that was before I tried on my costume and first went up on the stage to deliver my lines.
Anyone who has spent any significant time in conversation with me knows that I have a tendency, or rather a certainty, to stutter and stammer. Most are kind enough not to call attention to it but others, thinking they are doing me a favor, remind me of what I had just done and ask if I was aware of it. I usually dismiss it with a laugh, saying that I was so passionate about what I was about to say that the excitement overwhelmed me. This, of course, is a lie but, a necessary one. If they will break one social taboo in ignorance than I will break another out of spite; forgoing what is right to simply preserve the momentum of conversation, undaunted in my task to communicate exactly what I had meant to.
What had been easy in informal rehearsal became impossible on the stage...any communicative flow intended by the writer was butchered in my staccato delivery; completely negating the gospel message imbued within. It is at this moment that my friends, family and other loved ones will flock supportively to my side, assuring me that I can do this. I can't. It is not for lack of effort but, in the moment that this weakness shows, the minute this doubt creeps up the entire purpose of my role in this whole affair shifts to me. Instead of listening to the substance of my lines, those in attendance will be conscious of my delivery and the manner with which I present myself on the stage. As with anything one forces themselves to do this dramatic excursion will be tinged with selfishness with my prize upon completion of this nebulous goal being self-evolutionary bragging rights.
I think it is a common conception that God continually wants us to do things we hate; to sacrifice our passions and do something that makes us miserable. I couldn't disagree more. If we are all parts of one body than surely someone must enjoying being a foot so, why not have them be a foot? I am an individual filled with passions that I purpose to enact each day, whether I get credit for them or not. I deflect praise directed at me because I do not feel it is due me: I haven't done this for you or for myself, I do it because I am compelled and cannot find peace until I do. In terms of this drama presentation I have been cast to fulfill another's passion by participating. It is not that I am against being of assistance but I am certain that I, as a foot, am not called to fulfill the duties of the lungs.
I thought I could get through this monologue without mention of Moses or Gideon, two unwilling servants who were used by God in a mighty way. But could it be that these stories used to apply to me, before I found God's passion and calling for me in my life? Moses was a miserable shepherd who, through God, found a passion for rescuing a nation. Gideon lived in fear, threshing wheat in a winepress, battling his own demons of doubt and self-deprication until God showed him that he was a great warrior. Both of these men kept those roles until they died, living passionately in tasks they were given by the Lord. After I am done playing 'Jacob' I will not give another thought to either dramatic Biblical reenactment or to theatrical work as a whole so, why exactly am I taking part?
Perhaps this small instance is a microcosm of the lack of passion existent in the white, suburban middle-class Christian. We try to force ourselves into what we aren't in order to appease an un-imposed quota of gospel presentation. Maybe we would reach more unbelievers if we trusted our internal passions to lead us to those roles that would best communicate the gospel. Or maybe I'm just neurotic and afraid to be on stage...
Posted by Jon at December 18, 2005 02:26 PM