I am not going to exhaust this one. I went home to Richmond today for standardized testing (4 hrs.), dental work (3 hrs.), a call from the deputy headmaster of Bryanston school in England (2 min. / voice message) and Collegiate’s modern reproduction of Romeo and Juliet. The acting was so well done that it began to stir me as I sat in my seat – you’ve been there. You get wrapped up in the story line to the point that you sort of lose yourself, you’re gone, you’re not even in the building anymore. Many of the characters were utterly believable, even in their antiquate language, and helped cut down the curtain between audience and actors. The audience itself became intertwined in the melodrama. That’s how well done I thought the play was. And whether Shakespeare was a Christian or not, he does do a fine job of milking the sweetness of life with language and wit – which is an opportunity for recognizing God in these moments of richness and emotion. He has created us to be human, and romance, nostalgia, even those moments when you want to reach out and tell the actor not to make the mistake you know he is about to make so that you can change the plot and turn it into your own sort of happy ending – these are all gifts of common grace to us from God. Enjoying these is what it means to be human. Chalking them up to the Lord is what it means to be a child of God.
I haven’t written about physical therapy at all on here, but I go three times a week to work out my hand. It’s going to be slightly malaligned for the rest of my life, unless I get surgery, due to the fact that my hand was disconnected from my arm and its hard to set it perfectly. It doesn’t impair function though, and I almost have full rotation back on all three joint plains. Just looks kinda funny. One of the therapy assistants who gives me my ultra sound every week for ten minutes is an old woman named Rini, and I was challenged by her boldness the other day. I had heard her previously mention that “God had given my husband and I thirty seven wonderful years,” so I could assume Christianity. But the other day when I mentioned I had worked at a summer camp, I didn’t mention its evangelistic nature, she interrupted me with a story about her years as a summer camp counselor. Not knowing whether I was a Christian or not, she breaks into a story about a time at camp when a child told her she did not wish to receive the Holy Spirit, thinking it was a real ghost. She goes on about the Holy Ghost and the other work she had seen God do at this camp. And I sat there listening, thinking “She is saying this regardless of whether she thinks I am a believer or not. What courage. Do I have this sort of boldness in evangelizing?” It left me thinking that No, for some reason I still often shy away from speaking about my faith to strangers, and most of the time I don’t even say that my camp is a Christian camp. Sigh. If I believe something is true – earth shatteringly true – shouldn’t that affect every area of my life? Shouldn’t it take away my fear of having people’s opinions of me change? Am I serving two gods: my faith and my reputation? Where is this cup of boldness, so I may drink of it and proclaim what I know to be true – regardless of to whom I speak.