An hour and a half.
He yelled at me for an hour and a half.
And hung his head in disappointment.
And sighed the long breath of a heavy heart.
And he loved me with all of his soul.
This evening a dear friend took the time to call me out on some things. Lots of things, none of which will I go into here. Suffice to say he yelled at me about my deep and abiding lack of faith, or at least belief that God is and has been directing my life. That is to say, the lack of faith that God has anything particularly good in store for my immediate situation, experience of life or future plans.
So this friend kicked my ass, (metaphorically, since scientists still haven’t perfected human teleportation, or even robotic avatars) and I felt pretty low. He was disappointed in me and he was right to be so.
I was disappointed in me.
He shared God’s word with me, and like a good Christian,
I quickly responded with repentance, cried and swore to change my ways I denied it, avoided the subject and ended the conversation as soon as possible.
One of the Proverbs, the wisdom sayings of the Bible, says:
Faithful are the wounds of a friend;
profuse are the kisses of an enemy.
And I suppose I ought to believe he was showing a kindness to me. In reality, however, I am angry and annoyed and regretful of that conversation. For all the talk in many churches, and Christian circles about really challenging one another and enjoying fellowship in truth, I for one would far rather remain hidden. I enjoy living an unexamined life.
It’s far easier that way.
Let’s all do each other a favour and stop caring. It’s better. I promise.