We meet again...for the first time

I met, actually *met* the man in the tan coat. It's almost a hundred degrees outside right now, so he wasn't actually wearing the coat.

It started last month during the state-wide food drive. Our secretary who's friends with some of the workers upstairs was asked to judge the final day of the drive where the employees were to "sculpt" the collected items into works of art as part of an interoffice contest. The sec couldn't make it and asked me to fill in.

There he was...behind the castle of green beans and corn complete with a toy dragon and maiden in distress. He's one of maybe two men in the 20-person office. His teammates were making the finishing touches on the pasta draw bridge and he smiled genuinely at me, but with a dash of chagrin.

Remember, I don't have romantic crush on this man -- it's a friendship crush. I'm desperate for someone unrelated to me to hang out with. But, I'm so afraid of even friendship-rejection that it takes a lot of courage for me to initiate a conversation with a stranger.

A few weeks later, the man was in the local cafe and chose a table behind me. As I was leaving, I swung around and said, "hey, don't you work upstairs from me?" And we chatted briefly about our jobs and what we do. He slightly rolled his eyes at his supervisor for having a different theme each day during food drive week and at the easy clique formation and free-flowing gossip, the latter opinion being something we definitely have in common.

Several days later, it was his turn to initiate when I sat on the couch by his table and devoured the local news story about our building being renovated and my office being asked to sign a long-term lease. He asked if anybody told us about the new developments in the never-ending saga of where to put the social services office so that we can be united in one location instead of the current split in two. I lamented that no one ever tells us anything and as I stood there chatting, invited myself to join him when my order was up at the counter.

Yesterday, I was walking back to the office as he was walking away from it, large suitcase in hand. He seemed to be in good spirits, said hello, and remarked that at least it's only one bag today!

This could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship...that is unless I take the job I may be offered in another town. Le sigh.

They will know us by our love (and the Baha'is, and the Wiccans, and the Jains...)

Alright, I think I've got it figured out. The question friends have been asking me as I get sucked further and further into the life of the Church: Why am I a Christian?

Not because of the promise of eternal life. Not because I think that Christianity has got it all figured out and they are on the inside track with the one true God. Not because I heard the voice of Jesus in my head and I became saved one tearful and cathartic night.

I am a Christian because I see it as one of many paths to truth in community. Right now, the fact is Christianity is the only method of journeying together in community towards truth that I see accessible to me in this place. To be on a faith journey, which I feel called to travel, I need to be with others during this time of spiritual, philisophical, and ethical discernment. And, I value this community over always agreeing with doctrine, polity, or the other members of this community all of the time. And really, United Methodists are pretty progressive. I don't often have to hear hate-language or radical-right propoganda in the circles I run in.

Why am I a Christian....? Because I ain't got nothin' better to do.