Among the too-numerous-to-mention reasons why I am walking away from my job is this: I work with Christian people, speak directly to Christian readers, interact with Christian publicists, and read writings by Christians all day long. While I very much consider myself a Christian ("one who follows Christ"), I have become increasingly convinced that being surrounded by them - and only them - every waking hour is not a positive thing.
I received a story submission today by a man named Samir, a pastor in CA. Samir quoted one of his friends Tim, who doesn't consider himself a Christian. Tim asks this:
“Why don’t Christians present their ideas where everyone else does? They don’t come to book evenings, poetry slams, discussion groups, community service events, and social clubs. There are venues that we as a society set up for people to share ideas. Why are Christians absent from the places where they can’t be in charge?”
Great question, Tim. I am exiting my existing circle to come out where the people are. I hope to see you there.
Wednesday, November 24, 2004
Friday, November 19, 2004
FAREWELL, RELEVANT
I’m sitting here. Waiting. Waiting. Never been so nervous in my life. The last time I felt this way, I was about 5 years old, waiting in line to go on the Whizzer at Six Flags. I was in line with my dad, and the line was moving forward at a snail’s pace. But every inch brought me closer to the moment of truth, the moment I was dreading and simultaneously desperately wishing would arrive.
5:54 p.m. Still waiting.
The line ripples forward a few centimeters. My heart is pounding out of my chest. I think I might wet my pants, or vomit. I want to ride this ride, to prove myself, to say I did it, and now it’s over. My palms are sweating. We’re at the gate. Now we’re stepping across the yellow line painted across the concrete. I look at the car, picturing myself stepping in. I can do this … I can do this …
But I bail. I step over the car to wait on the other side, while my dad will ride alone. I couldn’t do it that day.
Today will be different.
Still waiting …
5:54 p.m. Still waiting.
The line ripples forward a few centimeters. My heart is pounding out of my chest. I think I might wet my pants, or vomit. I want to ride this ride, to prove myself, to say I did it, and now it’s over. My palms are sweating. We’re at the gate. Now we’re stepping across the yellow line painted across the concrete. I look at the car, picturing myself stepping in. I can do this … I can do this …
But I bail. I step over the car to wait on the other side, while my dad will ride alone. I couldn’t do it that day.
Today will be different.
Still waiting …
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