Mute Point

In high school, we always talked about having the DTR (define the relationship) conversation. I always thought that was such a funny term.

Lately, while I have no DTR’s in my foreseeable future, I have been faced with the threat of conversations I’m not entirely sure I want to have. It’s not so funny anymore.

I had a friend come to visit (actually, I’ve had about 10 friends come to visit – and you should visit me, too!), and we didn’t have a fight or disagreement, but we were discussing a situation and how I was handling it. My friend thought I was being too lax, and I maintained (and still maintain) that I need to know what I’m talking about before I jump into that sort of situation. At the same time, my friend is also right. There comes a point where you stop gathering information and you have to stop talking and (gasp) maybe even disagreeing; otherwise it’s just inertia. And what kind of relationship is it if you can’t or won’t express your opinions?

So there was that conversation.

And then I went to church. I have a found a great church that I really like, although I have no explanation for the chain-link fence on the stage of a former Catholic church building. The music is great, and the preaching is Biblically solid. Right now, we’re working our way through 1 and 2 Peter. I don’t recall the specific passage from those books right now, but the conversation developed in such a way that proselytizing came up. And the guy was telling this story about reading a book or having a friend or something about some guy who wasn’t a Christian. And the guy who wasn’t a Christian was talking about how much he respected someone who was willing to lay their faith and relationship on the line to explain what they believed. The guy posed this question: “How much do you have to hate a person to not proselytize?”

After all, if it’s “the most important thing” in your life, if you feel like it’s “the only way,” if you “truly love someone,” why wouldn’t you tell them? (Leaving off, of course, a discussion on appropriate ways to tell someone, which do not, incidentally, including leaving a tract disguised as money)

My parents have been known to frequently chastise me with the following question: “Daughter, do you have to tell everything you know?” My response is always a resounding, “Yes.”

But that’s not really true. I know God loves me, sent His Son to die for me, and saved me. And He desires to do that for you. But rarely do I say it. My goal is always to live it so I don’t have to actually say anything. But shouldn’t I have some words to back up my actions? If someone catches me in one of my (not-so) infrequent moments of less-than-Christ-like behavior, they certainly wouldn’t know that I consider myself this incredibly flawed person saved purely by the Grace of God – that not even twice Bill Gates’s money could buy me what He gave me freely and that every day I thank God for that mercy. And if I have no words, no one will tell them, either.