CHRIST IN WINTER: Reflections on Faith for the Years of Winter
Bob Wilson recently said in response to a CIW: “John, you are a complex and complicated man. I love you. I wish I understood you.”
Fantastic! My plan is working!
If anyone might have a shot at understanding me, it would be Bob. We go back together as far as anyone I know, to age ten, when my family moved from the low-crime part of the inner-city of Indianapolis to a hard-scrabble farm a few miles out of Oakland City.
Back in our day, kids born between mid-October and mid-April started school in the middle of the year, at the beginning of the second semester. There were about 30 of us in that class, 5A, first semester of fifth grade, when I joined it. A remarkable group of great kids it was, like Mike Dickey and Jarvis Reed and Shirley Black and, of course, Bob Wilson.
A mid-year start was a good plan educationally, but not bureaucratically, so in 8th grade, our mighty mid-year group was folded back into the amorphous group that started in the autumn after us, to form our high school class. They were all great kids, but slow learners; they elected me class president three years in a row.
Yes, Bob has known me a long time, but I still have him convinced him that I am complex. I’m not nearly as complicated as he thinks. I’m really quite simple. All I want out of life is whatever I want whenever I want it. That’s not all that complicated, is it?
If Bob understood that, though, he might not love me. As long as I can keep him in the dark about how self-centered I really am, he’ll still love me and be my friend.
That’s how we think, isn’t it? We must keep our real, secret, simple self-centered selves hidden behind complicated complexities, or folks won’t love us. Even God.
That, though, is selling Bob short. I think he would love me even if he understood me. God, too. That is the nature of love.
Bottom line: God does understand me, and still loves me. Bob does not understand me, but still loves me. You can’t get better than that.
I tweet as yooper1721.