How does that old saying go? "Life is what happens when we are making other plans"? Well, God has a sense of humor, for sure - I'm the proof.
Seriously though, all day I had been looking forward to hearing my best friend and her new band play their first gig tonight. I had to make my typical four hour (round trip) Friday journey to my ex-marital home to drop of my kids with their father, but I was still sure that I could make the show before it was over. I double-checked the time on my Facebook event invite, and sure enough, I should be able to catch an hour and half of the show, if I hurried. Cue God laughing...
I made it to the location of the gig, a quaint little gift shop not far from where I live at 9 pm. The invite said the show ran until 10:30... I was in luck. I saw my bestie outside the front door and assumed she was taking a breather, so I didn't holler, figuring I would rather tackle-surprise her with a big hug instead. I finished rolling up my windows, and headed into the store, as I didn't see my friend outside anymore. I saw a young red-headed girl sitting at a table and thought it was my friend's daughter (I think I should start wearing my glasses more), but my friend wasn't anywhere to be seen, nor was her band.
The people who were in the backroom, where the microphones and seating was, welcomed me graciously. I explained who I was and found out that they had just left. I felt so bad. Not for me, but for my friend because I had promised I would be there to support her, but I had missed it. I called her and apologized for missing it and told her I hoped I could make it to the next gig.
Everyone who was still in the backroom invited me to stay and listen to who was going to play/sing next and mentioned that there was a couple who knew my friend from their church still there. They asked me some things about myself and I happily volunteered details (I talk too much). One question led into another and I began telling them about my majors in Religious Studies and Arabic at MSU. I explained that I intend to have a career in the interfaith movement, and that I was focusing on Christian and Muslim relations. I was steadily getting nervous, because I could just feel the question coming... "but you're Christian, right?"
Silence.
Expectation.
Realization.
Half of me wanted to run out the door as fast as I could. My bestie loves her Christian faith and has been active in her church communities for years, even as a very successful youth pastor for a time. I had no doubt that I was amongst other very devout Christians. I was tired. I had driven for four hours already and since I had missed the gig, I wanted to go home. I didn't feel up to the challenge of standing up for my beliefs at that moment.
The other half was yelling at me, "OPPORTUNITY!" I had just told them I was focusing on Christian and Muslim relations. It wasn't time for me to be a coward. Yup, God was laughing at me. And pushing me. And reminding me why I am passionate about this in the first place. And showing me I can do it. Yes, this is still my path.
My silence only lasted about a second, in reality, although it felt longer than that. I am sure I blushed some as I said, "I used to be."
No one ridiculed me. No one belittled me. No one yelled at me. No one threw me out. There were some Christian affirmations. There were questions. I answered to the best of my ability. Every one was very nice and very polite. I had one gentleman approach me and tell me that he understands a little bit about what it must be like to try to explain that although our beliefs may be somewhat different, or the terminology is somewhat different, that we love the same God and how beliefs can change as we learn new things. For me, it was reading the Qur'an; for him, it was learning about and embracing his Native American roots.
I am reminded by this experience that we interfaith activists never know when we might be presented with what I am going to call an "interfaith opportunity" much as I would also call it a "teachable moment". We should never shy away from it because we have other plans, or are just too tired for polite debate. We should instead remember our passion for this work, reach in, pull it out, and embrace the moment same as we embrace our new friends.
Have you ever blundered? I would love to hear your stories or reactions.Please take a moment to comment below.
Salam, which means PEACE!
Seriously though, all day I had been looking forward to hearing my best friend and her new band play their first gig tonight. I had to make my typical four hour (round trip) Friday journey to my ex-marital home to drop of my kids with their father, but I was still sure that I could make the show before it was over. I double-checked the time on my Facebook event invite, and sure enough, I should be able to catch an hour and half of the show, if I hurried. Cue God laughing...
I made it to the location of the gig, a quaint little gift shop not far from where I live at 9 pm. The invite said the show ran until 10:30... I was in luck. I saw my bestie outside the front door and assumed she was taking a breather, so I didn't holler, figuring I would rather tackle-surprise her with a big hug instead. I finished rolling up my windows, and headed into the store, as I didn't see my friend outside anymore. I saw a young red-headed girl sitting at a table and thought it was my friend's daughter (I think I should start wearing my glasses more), but my friend wasn't anywhere to be seen, nor was her band.
The people who were in the backroom, where the microphones and seating was, welcomed me graciously. I explained who I was and found out that they had just left. I felt so bad. Not for me, but for my friend because I had promised I would be there to support her, but I had missed it. I called her and apologized for missing it and told her I hoped I could make it to the next gig.
Everyone who was still in the backroom invited me to stay and listen to who was going to play/sing next and mentioned that there was a couple who knew my friend from their church still there. They asked me some things about myself and I happily volunteered details (I talk too much). One question led into another and I began telling them about my majors in Religious Studies and Arabic at MSU. I explained that I intend to have a career in the interfaith movement, and that I was focusing on Christian and Muslim relations. I was steadily getting nervous, because I could just feel the question coming... "but you're Christian, right?"
Silence.
Expectation.
Realization.
Half of me wanted to run out the door as fast as I could. My bestie loves her Christian faith and has been active in her church communities for years, even as a very successful youth pastor for a time. I had no doubt that I was amongst other very devout Christians. I was tired. I had driven for four hours already and since I had missed the gig, I wanted to go home. I didn't feel up to the challenge of standing up for my beliefs at that moment.
The other half was yelling at me, "OPPORTUNITY!" I had just told them I was focusing on Christian and Muslim relations. It wasn't time for me to be a coward. Yup, God was laughing at me. And pushing me. And reminding me why I am passionate about this in the first place. And showing me I can do it. Yes, this is still my path.
My silence only lasted about a second, in reality, although it felt longer than that. I am sure I blushed some as I said, "I used to be."
No one ridiculed me. No one belittled me. No one yelled at me. No one threw me out. There were some Christian affirmations. There were questions. I answered to the best of my ability. Every one was very nice and very polite. I had one gentleman approach me and tell me that he understands a little bit about what it must be like to try to explain that although our beliefs may be somewhat different, or the terminology is somewhat different, that we love the same God and how beliefs can change as we learn new things. For me, it was reading the Qur'an; for him, it was learning about and embracing his Native American roots.
I am reminded by this experience that we interfaith activists never know when we might be presented with what I am going to call an "interfaith opportunity" much as I would also call it a "teachable moment". We should never shy away from it because we have other plans, or are just too tired for polite debate. We should instead remember our passion for this work, reach in, pull it out, and embrace the moment same as we embrace our new friends.
Have you ever blundered? I would love to hear your stories or reactions.Please take a moment to comment below.
Salam, which means PEACE!
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