I feel a compulsory need to gain their attention, talk to them, and then... tamp them down, slow their role, control their outbursts. Why?
He came to church. For Easter, he got dressed up and came to the church he remembers. He was late, but, then again, we've changed times since he was there last. He sat next to a guy he knew and we talked during one of the songs. The conversation wandered from a smiled greeting, to the bike trail, to the song we were singing, to the woman up front at the microphone.
He made me nervous. I waited for the tell tail sign that makes our conversations awkward. Sooner or later, the other shoe always drops. It always has. His neural circuitry tends to loop in inappropriate areas and I have to fight the associated embarrassment when the tic comes out.
Why not say it? They make me nervous, but, as people, I find them (him) engaging. As a medical professional, I find them (him) interesting, fascinating.
I had spent the last four days on a family vacation with my daughters and wife. On the second day, we visited the Newport Aquarium and beheld the wonders of the ocean and the swamp: sharks, sting rays, a school of piranhas, a hundred year old snapping turtle, and a twenty-foot alligator. We stood and watched, tried to touch them (behind glass) as I pontificated to the girls about their habitats, life-cycles, wonders... and dangers. It was fun, it was interesting... it was safe.
Standing next to him in church, talking with him, it hit me. Why was I afraid of him? Why was I wasting all of my attention and energy trying to put a tank of glass between him and myself: to better study him? Was I treating him like a wild animal... an animal?
I was! I repented. I still had to actively focus on the worship going on. I had to force myself not to worry, but, for the next hour, I began to enjoy his presence as a fellow believer.
Social norms... the glass tank we swim in. Perhaps the glass tanks at
the aquarium aren't just to protect the tourists? They protect the
animals too!
Then it hit me again. I wasn't trying to protect him, I was trying to protect myself. He was as broken and forgiven as I am. He still waits and longs to be made whole again with the resurrection, but can't hide behind social norms like I can. He couldn't put on the protection like I could and he wanted to swim in my tank, sit by me, talk to me, and interact on my turf. That's what scared me. Would I have to do the same? Would I have to take down the glass wall between him and I?
Would the others in church see my untamed side, my viciously unSunday side? The side of me that enjoys a bawdy joke, that enjoys an occasional beer, that connects and (more than that) empathizes with his daily struggle?
Yes and yes.
I still have boundaries, especially with my daughters in the seats beside me, but I did, will, and do want to swim with the other fish.
The first step: I will not be embarrassed. I will deal with it as it comes... if needed, but not before. I will not be "anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving" enjoy the people God puts in my life.
As my older patient's tell me when I ask them, "live life while you can and live it now." Damn the glass tanks!
