CHRIST IN WINTER: Reflections on Faith & Life for the Years of Winter…
Guitarist Chet Atkins said that he used to think he was pretty good. By the time he found out he wasn’t, he was too rich to care. By the time I found out I wasn’t any good, I was too old to care.
One of the gifts of the years of winter is freedom from expectations.
Nobody expects anything from me, and that’s okay. No one expects me to save the world, or even change it a little bit.
Which allows me to be an undercover operative.
I am friends with—once removed, which means I know someone who knows her—a woman nobody expected to be an undercover agent. She is a small woman, obviously crippled, confined to a wheelchair. Nobody expected her to be a spy, so she was really good at it.
That’s how I am now. I sit in the rocking chair at family gatherings, in the corner at the coffee shop, on the park bench as people parade by with their signs and shouts, in the back row at church, in the balcony looking at those below in the seats of power. Nobody expects me to be sorting the sheep from the goats, plotting against their worldly plans by praying for God’s Kingdom to come. But I am.