You’re a Christian

An odd thing happened to me today. Not a bad thing, just an odd thing. Odd, because it never happened before. So much so, that I didn’t know how to react.

A few days ago, I stopped at a computer store to ask about some problems I was having with my computer. I was talking to the woman who owned the shop, and I told her my name, which caused no reaction. Logical, since I didn't know this person at all. But when she found out I was a teacher, that's when I got the “Oh, Mr. Morgan,” with a tone of recognition. Now for those of you who are teachers, you know this happens all the time. When someone you don’t know, calls you “Mr.” (or “Mrs.” or “Miss”) you can be pretty sure you taught one of her kids. And it could go either way. At that point they may praise you like you're the greatest teacher since Carl Sagan, or somehow infer your relationship to Hitler. So I held my breath and asked, steeling myself for the worst. She just said that her daughter had attended my school, but didn’t have me as a teacher. Somehow she knew about me though. Whew! Crisis avoided.

So today I took my computer back to her to get it fixed. (Yes, I know I usually fix them myself, but this one is beyond me.) I mentioned her daughter, and what I remembered about her. At that point, the woman looked right at me and said “You’re a Christian.” I just stood and looked at her, not really knowing what to say. Nobody had ever said that to me like that, especially someone who I don’t even know.

A hundred thoughts went through my mind all at once. How did she know? Was she pleased? Did her daughter tell her? And if so, how did the daughter know, as I barely knew her. And I don’t normally give sermons at school. And on and on...

I finally just said, “Yes, I am. But how did you know?” I mean, I wasn’t carrying a Bible, I don’t have a Jesus tattoo. And it’s not something I just come up and tell people. (Hi, my name’s Richard. Nice to meet you. I’m a Christian....)

She told me her daughter was a Christian. Like somehow that just explained the whole thing right there. (Must be a secret network or something that I’m not aware of?) So I prodded a little further, asking how her daughter knew. And she replied. “All the Christian kids talk. They know who the Christian teachers are. It’s good to have them.”

You know, I haven’t really been a Christian all my life. Maybe if I had been, this wouldn’t have seemed so strange. Yet it was odd. And cool. And neat. And eerie. All at the same time.

I cautioned her that I may not be the Christian she is picturing. That while I’m a Christian, I’m also a scientist, and I accept the views of both disciplines without conflict. I’m probably not what non-Christians think of, when they think of a Christian. She seemed fine with all that.

I’m not really sure of any conclusion here. Although it definitely took me aback, I was secretly pleased, I think, that some student I hardly knew realized this about me. It made me feel good, in a strange way.

And to be completely honest, even a little proud.

We Really Have to Come Together

No. We don’t. Not always. Maybe not even usually.

“You have to work it out and come together” is something that’s said when two sides are having a disagreement. Maybe it’s Republicans and Democrats, or owners and players, or any two groups you want to plug in there. But we don’t always have to “come together.”

What’s more, not only don’t we have to, I think more often than not we shouldn't. In any disagreement, almost always, “truth” is somewhere between the stances of both sides. I think we can all agree on that. Which is why we are told to “come together.”

But the flaw with that is that, while “truth” is probably between the two sides, it doesn’t mean it’s right smack dab in the middle. Maybe it is, but it also could be 90% to one side. And here’s the trouble. Contrary to what people like to believe, a lot of times there really is a “good guy” and a “bad guy” involved. And the bad guy knows that if he keeps insisting on unreasonable positions, the good guy will try to “come together” and meet him. (Because, of course, he’s a good guy!) So even if truth is 90% toward good guy, bad guy will just dig in and wait for the the position to come to him. And usually it will. Because good guy wants to settle the conflict.

Imagine if in 1939, Hitler and Churchill had just tried to “come together.” Actually, they did try that at first. All of Europe, fresh off a World War, certainly didn’t want another one. So they tried to “come together” with Hitler, and kept making deals and compromises. In those deals, Hitler (bad guy if there ever was one) gave away little. Europe (good guys) gave a lot. But finally all of Europe could see that Hitler was never going to give in at all. That’s when the war started. You can preach about the immorality of war all you want, and I’ll probably mostly agree with you. But the fact is, if Churchill hadn't stood his ground, drawn a line in the sand, Hitler would not have been stopped.

There are times when even the most honest, righteous, and peace-loving person has to make that stand, draw that line in the sand. Churchill did it. Roosevelt did it a few years later. Even Jesus did it with the money changers in the temple. He didn't try to reason with them, make a compromise, and "come together." And I think he was a good guy if there ever was one.

So next time you see a disagreement, and say in disgust “Why don’t they just put their differences aside and just come together,” keep in mind that there’s a good chance that one side already has done that, and given away much.

It’s funny, that we say we value honesty, integrity, and fairness. Yet in a disagreement, we always brand the one who gives away more as “weak.” When in reality, it’s probably the good guy, in his quest to settle conflict, that has given more. Apparently we actually value dishonesty, cheating, and stubbornness.

Unfortunately.

Uncle Chuck

Life is short. And the older I get, the more apparent that becomes. If you’re like me, you go through life, trying to “make a difference.” I try real hard to do things right, to teach people, to set an example. I want to make sure that when I’m through with this life, I will have left a mark of some kind. And hopefully a good one. 

That’s one of the reasons I became a teacher, and it’s one of the reasons I’m still coaching. Now this doesn't mean I want to be rich, or famous, or even well known. It just means that, when I’m gone, there will hopefully be at least a few people who say “You know, that guy really taught me something.” I’m pretty sure more of us than not think along those same lines.

Which brings me to Uncle Chuck. Although we never talked about it, I’m pretty sure Uncle Chuck didn’t think about this at all. He never gave talks about “life lessons.” He never told me what was right and what was wrong. He never really tried to influence me, or anyone, to any great degree about anything.

No, Uncle Chuck was a very simple man. He loved his family, and anything outdoors. He made his living working in the cement plant, which was probably the cause of the lung disease that would eventually take him. But his love was outdoors. Fishing, hunting, hiking, boating, snowmobiling. Anything outside. So much so that it seemed odd to see him inside when the weather was decent.

It was a sad day when Uncle Chuck died. We went to the funeral, where Aunt Annie was a rock, comforting all of us, even though inside she was dying herself. But instead of a lunch in the church basement, Chuck made sure his “party” was at the legion. They served us beer and pizza, along with a bunch of other good food. (Actually I can't remember if there was pizza or not, but the event certainly had a “beer and pizza” feel to it.) He wanted all of us to have a good time, nothing fancy, because that’s how he lived.

And sometime during that party, it hit me. That Uncle Chuck probably never tried to “make a difference.” Yet that’s exactly what he did. Listening to the stories people told, talking to friends and family, and going back through my own memories of him, it suddenly became obvious that Chuck had “made a difference” to all of us. That he lived simply, but honestly, without pretension, and without ill will toward anyone. He was a friend to everyone, and would always lend a helping hand. Complete with a smile. As I left his party, I realized that living like Uncle Chuck would be a good way to live.

Thanks for the life lesson, Uncle Chuck. By just being yourself, you did alright.