I am the church. I have heard a lot of gossip lately, a lot of chatter on the wire, and it has been increasingly coming accross my radar screen. At first it was just a few blips in the distance, but now almost covers the graphic before my eyes. There has been a lot of talk about me, the church, and much of it goes on behind my back. Say it to my face! Fortunately, there are some who love me, who have tried to sit me down and have a good talk. I feel sorry for them, because that can't be easy. I'm hard of hearing.
But if you think I'm a jerk, you should meet my husband. When we go to parties, often people don't notice him, because I'm on the table, lifting my skirt, dancing the hula. I hate it when they judge him based on my behaviour, but I feel like I can't help myself. I'm always screaming my head off about some crap, while he's in the corner, whispering quietly to a few. I'm drinking too much, and then yelling at everyone else about their behaviour. I'm shooing people out of the club, begging them to stop chasing a false sense of romance, while rubbing my hips on a stranger that I just met. I'm on the corner on Saturdays - yelling at people to change their lives - but when they come closer, I run inside, and when I come out the next day, I've changed my clothes, uplifted my speech, and spoken a language they do not understand.
Some people have been saying I am pretentious. I find money too important, always talking about it, making my decisions based on the accumalation of it. I sit among my posh friends, Government and Big Business, talking about all the things I can do with my money, and how I have earned a right to speak and sway the great and the mighty. I know that I started out in Social work, taking care of the poor and the orphan, and I hear my early words still ringing in my ears. But I didn't ask for all this success - I earned it with my blood and my sweat. Perhaps my husband regrets teaching me how to work. Am I corrupted? Do I really have too many toys? Just think of what I could do with them!
People say I think I'm smart too. I use words I've just learned, and sit in classrooms I've just joined, and talk about sciences that I haven't even read the text books on. I do my own book reviews too. There was a book written about me recently. It had lots of people paying attention to me (it has been a while). Ha! It was for all the wrong reasons. I just did a book review on the Da Vinci Code, glazed over it after hearing all the other people discussing, and then declared my opinion. I didn't even read it! Why should I? I already know what it is trying to say. Because I know in my heart that not everything it says about me is true, I decided none of it could be true. Then that night, I took a good look in the mirror, and remembered my ways. I remembered what I did back then, the trail of destruction I've left in my wake, as I have travelled this world. I've hurt a lot of people, and because of my marriage, brought shame on the In-Laws.
So it is true. I am a hyporcritical, snobby, money grubbing, arrogant, fearful person. If you suddenly found yourself in the sort of marriage that I'm in, don't you think you would act like me too? I was so young! I didn't even know what I was getting into! I was swept off my feet - He just sort of dazzled me. I mean, no one has ever payed attention to me like that. I was a prostitute, a thief, and an unfaithful person. I wasn't even allowed in the market. I never thought somebody from that side of town would ever fall in love with me. He took me places I never dared to go on my own. He treated me like I always had clothes on that I could never afford. He had me over for dinner and I ate things I didn't even know existed. He had all these people at the table that I had only seen in pictures.
He held my hand when we walked down the streets. People would stare, and I would just wither inside, but he would hold his head high. The anger he would direct at them has never come my way. What I saw in his eyes would make gold rust - but he would look at me like I was made of gold. We would walk down the street every day, and the stares never stopped coming. He never stopped walking.
And he knew what I was! He wasn't blind. He could smell the streets, the unwashed flesh, the crust of emotional backage, surrounding my heart and conversation - all that I had picked up on my directionless wandering. He was not stupid. He knew I was ornery, arrogant, snobby, pretentious, fearful, angry, and depressed. But it was as if he didn't know. It was like he didn't see it. Sometimes it makes me forget that it's there. I am, after all, the Church.
I know he saw it because he was teaching me to treat others like that. Like a toddler on training wheels, I waverd and stumbled, working on loving the world, as the quivering legs of a baby find their first steps. You'd think after 40 days of it I'd learn to walk, but I guess we're not all naturals!
I've lost my way, sure, it is true. But you should meet my husband. If you can get past my behaviour, only for a moment, and listen to who I'm talking about, maybe you'd stop throwing out my invitation with the junkmail. Because I'm allowed to invite people over for dinner, and I'm telling you, you'll never taste food like it. I don't get many accepters, but hey, here's to trying.
Maybe it is cold out there, outside the Church. Maybe you haven't smelt roast turkey like this before, all hot and steamy, wafting out of the candle-lit windows of Our house. On a drizzly bleak night, out there, will you not come in to meet my husband, because I'm at the table? If only you would, we could finally talk a little - instead of talking about each other on the backside. You'd find out that - hey, you and I? We're really not all that different after all.
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