Sunday, March 03, 2013
Sunday Reflection: The Interview
Yesterday, as I was in Caribou Coffee getting ready for my talk today at St. Stephens, I sat at a table next to two men. One was young and black and one was older and white; it was a job interview.
It was, actually, a terrible job interview. The hiring guy asked several illegal questions (i.e., "are you married? Do you live alone?). The interviewee answered most of the questions with a question, rather that an answer. Both, somehow, seemed satisfied with the experience, though.
How much better would our world be if we had to randomly interview people who were very different than us, like Jesus did with the woman at the well, and honestly exchange our truths?
It was, actually, a terrible job interview. The hiring guy asked several illegal questions (i.e., "are you married? Do you live alone?). The interviewee answered most of the questions with a question, rather that an answer. Both, somehow, seemed satisfied with the experience, though.
How much better would our world be if we had to randomly interview people who were very different than us, like Jesus did with the woman at the well, and honestly exchange our truths?
Comments:
<< Home
what are the chances we would actually honestly exchange our truths?
at least, those that we're uncomfortable with, ashamed of, or think people might frown upon?
at least, those that we're uncomfortable with, ashamed of, or think people might frown upon?
# posted by 
: 1:55 AM
: 1:55 AM
“what are the chances we would actually honestly exchange our truths?
at least, those that we're uncomfortable with, ashamed of, or think people might frown upon?”
The moment I believed, and took ownership, of my previous thoughts and actions as a child, young adult, an adult and as a husband and father – I was able to accept Christine.
An excerpt from my memoir:
“I spent the next two days in bed, barely moving, unable to eat. I was transfixed, practically catatonic. I was frightened, fearful, confused and angry at God, extremely angry at God.
God, what more do you want from me? I silently screamed. What more? Don’t ask me to believe I have a special gift of spirit! What do You want from me?
You have taken my wife from me, my sons from me, my home from me, my building business from me. What more do you want from me? What more can you take from me? What more can you ask of me? I have given my whole life to you! What More? I cried inconsolably.
To my former wife, my children and my family, Christine is a tragic death, a betrayal of commitment until death between a husband and wife, a commitment freely promised at his alter and a father’s betrayal of commitment to his sons. And you ask me to explain that to them, to others? What credibility do I have left? Who would ever listen to me again? I kept demanding. Silence my only reply.
Please Lord! I cried and screamed at the same time. Do you know what I have robed them of, taken from them? Do you know the pain and suffering I have put them through? DO YOU KNOW? My pleas and questions echoed throughout every cave and crevice of my mind, audible echoes that elicited no answer, no response.
For years my wife had to endure a marriage bed without intimacy because of me. Because of me, my grandchildren will never experience the gentle, nurturing, loving, insightful and caring relationship they shared and enjoyed with their grandfather.
Today my former wife’s husband and my sons’ father stands before them as Christine; Christine, with breasts, hips and soon to be vagina. And you are asking more of me? To many I am a despicable, heinous sinner, a leper, despised and ridiculed. I have recently learned that my name, Christine Renae Charles, chosen to keep my same initials and to honor my family could be considered blasphemy. Christine Renae happens to mean “Follower of Christ, reborn” Thank You Lord! I mockingly proclaimed.
To those dearest to me, my continuing to witness for you is the greatest of insults. “How dare you!” is a response they have every right to throw in my face. And you know damn well I will never abandon you. Thanks! Damn! I screamed.
God take my life right now! Judge me now! I dare you to count the times I have not honored you with my actions and my words! I have tried soooooo hard to always share the gifts you have given me. No matter what I do, you always want more from me. What more can be asked of me? Was my accepting and embracing Christine not enough for you? I pleaded for an answer, more silence, an entire day and night of silence.
at least, those that we're uncomfortable with, ashamed of, or think people might frown upon?”
The moment I believed, and took ownership, of my previous thoughts and actions as a child, young adult, an adult and as a husband and father – I was able to accept Christine.
An excerpt from my memoir:
“I spent the next two days in bed, barely moving, unable to eat. I was transfixed, practically catatonic. I was frightened, fearful, confused and angry at God, extremely angry at God.
God, what more do you want from me? I silently screamed. What more? Don’t ask me to believe I have a special gift of spirit! What do You want from me?
You have taken my wife from me, my sons from me, my home from me, my building business from me. What more do you want from me? What more can you take from me? What more can you ask of me? I have given my whole life to you! What More? I cried inconsolably.
To my former wife, my children and my family, Christine is a tragic death, a betrayal of commitment until death between a husband and wife, a commitment freely promised at his alter and a father’s betrayal of commitment to his sons. And you ask me to explain that to them, to others? What credibility do I have left? Who would ever listen to me again? I kept demanding. Silence my only reply.
Please Lord! I cried and screamed at the same time. Do you know what I have robed them of, taken from them? Do you know the pain and suffering I have put them through? DO YOU KNOW? My pleas and questions echoed throughout every cave and crevice of my mind, audible echoes that elicited no answer, no response.
For years my wife had to endure a marriage bed without intimacy because of me. Because of me, my grandchildren will never experience the gentle, nurturing, loving, insightful and caring relationship they shared and enjoyed with their grandfather.
Today my former wife’s husband and my sons’ father stands before them as Christine; Christine, with breasts, hips and soon to be vagina. And you are asking more of me? To many I am a despicable, heinous sinner, a leper, despised and ridiculed. I have recently learned that my name, Christine Renae Charles, chosen to keep my same initials and to honor my family could be considered blasphemy. Christine Renae happens to mean “Follower of Christ, reborn” Thank You Lord! I mockingly proclaimed.
To those dearest to me, my continuing to witness for you is the greatest of insults. “How dare you!” is a response they have every right to throw in my face. And you know damn well I will never abandon you. Thanks! Damn! I screamed.
God take my life right now! Judge me now! I dare you to count the times I have not honored you with my actions and my words! I have tried soooooo hard to always share the gifts you have given me. No matter what I do, you always want more from me. What more can be asked of me? Was my accepting and embracing Christine not enough for you? I pleaded for an answer, more silence, an entire day and night of silence.
The second day of my seclusion began with prayer, reflection and eventually some clarity. Unexpectedly, I heard a whispered response. “Have I ever abandoned you? Have I ever not been there for you?” Another long conversation began.”
“Often, it is easier to perform acts of kindness than it is to share are true feelings. All too frequently we are unable to express them because we are worried how others will respond if we do. Does concealing our inner most thoughts and feelings help avoid controversy and enjoy a more calm and peaceful relationship with the special people in our lives? The opposite is often true. Our silence, our lack of transparency in our relationships, provides a false sense of peace and happiness. Why do we remain silent, unable to share our most guarded feelings? What holds us back from sharing our less than perfect selves with the people dearest to us, with God? Can sharing our most protected feelings cause any more anxiety and conflict than when they are concealed? When we live a guarded life, our relationships are seldom blessed with all the peace and happiness we desire and the sweet serenity we are promised.”
"Difficult moments we endure in silence can often smother God’s love and grace within us."
“Often, it is easier to perform acts of kindness than it is to share are true feelings. All too frequently we are unable to express them because we are worried how others will respond if we do. Does concealing our inner most thoughts and feelings help avoid controversy and enjoy a more calm and peaceful relationship with the special people in our lives? The opposite is often true. Our silence, our lack of transparency in our relationships, provides a false sense of peace and happiness. Why do we remain silent, unable to share our most guarded feelings? What holds us back from sharing our less than perfect selves with the people dearest to us, with God? Can sharing our most protected feelings cause any more anxiety and conflict than when they are concealed? When we live a guarded life, our relationships are seldom blessed with all the peace and happiness we desire and the sweet serenity we are promised.”
"Difficult moments we endure in silence can often smother God’s love and grace within us."
Woody...
I went with a neighbor to Wilmington this weekend to hula hoop in a RFTC event. While I did not exchange my truths (perhaps some of them), the person I was with exposed hers and I did not judge or shy away. I can only accept the person presented in front of me. I am sympathetic to her past and expressed to her that I could not begin to comprehend what she had experienced. But at the end of the trip I was still her friend and she is still my neighbor. It was not my place to judge as I had not walked in her shoes.
Post a Comment
I went with a neighbor to Wilmington this weekend to hula hoop in a RFTC event. While I did not exchange my truths (perhaps some of them), the person I was with exposed hers and I did not judge or shy away. I can only accept the person presented in front of me. I am sympathetic to her past and expressed to her that I could not begin to comprehend what she had experienced. But at the end of the trip I was still her friend and she is still my neighbor. It was not my place to judge as I had not walked in her shoes.
<< Home
