Today someone asked me how it is that I always seem to be so peaceful.
Someone whom I have no reason at all to believe is a Christian; someone whose relationship with me does not generally entail talking about religion or personal beliefs at all, in fact, whose relationship with me (i.e., “professional”) makes such conversation socially verboten.
…in your hearts honor Christ the Lord as holy, always being prepared to make a defense to anyone who asks you for a reason for the hope that is in you; yet do it with gentleness and respect…
(1 Peter 3:15)
Needless to say, I was caught off-guard by her question. I have a neat litany of excuses for my failure: the irregularity of the conversation, the exhaustion deluging my brain, my todo list burning a hole in my pocket, the rarity of my interaction with nonbelievers at all now (as a SAHM)… I was very much off-guard. Secondly, the subtlety of the question threw me—”peaceful” didn’t immediately turn my brain to the Gospel.
I have lots of excuses.
The conversation was not a total flub, because for some odd reason, she kept pushing it and, surprisingly, turning it in ever more spiritual directions. I felt like I’d stepped into the twilight zone and was off-balance and uncertain the entire time. Looking back, I feel like the conversation was enough that God could use it, or that I could bring it back up again on the strength of the conversation, but I’m also really sorrowful at my own ineptitude and inattention and lack of focus.
“Always being prepared.” I would have done better if she had asked me a direct question, like, “how do I go to heaven?” or “how does your faith help you remain calm?” Or, “why is this theological confession better than that one?” I could have done well with any of those questions, had my brain snapped into focus and put on the evangelism track.
But sadly, preparation doesn’t mean knowledge here. It doesn’t mean ability to argue theological points. Peter is talking in the context of suffering Christians in a hostile world, and what is the source of the “preparation” he names? “In your hearts honor Christ the Lord as holy.”
My problem was that my brain was going a thousand places this morning, none of them focused directly on Christ. I was totally being “a Martha.” I’d thought plenty about theology this morning, but not much about its Author. My fellow conversationalist actually asked me (if you’re a Yankee, you know how shocking this is) if I prayed in the mornings—and all I could think of was, well, I sure hadn’t THIS morning! My answers were all over the place because my heart was all over the place. God gives me peace when our son has facial palsy—a peace I have very much clung to in the past week and a half—but somehow, the lesser things, I act like I can strike out on my own. I can bundle my kids up and out the door, carefully-organized schoolwork schedules in hand. I can get everyone breakfast, everyone in shoes, raggle-taggle hair tamed, snacks packed… all in my own strength.
But I can’t. This morning was absolutely shattering to my self-inflated spiritual ego. It doesn’t matter how much Scripture I read or recite, how many theological terms I can rattle off, or how excellent of “Christian” parenting advice I can dole out when others ask me… if my very own heart is not filled up with honoring Christ, it’s all rubbish, to quote Paul.
It’s a quiet little sin to simply lose focus, to stop feeling thirsty for the refreshment of the Spirit, to stop depending on Him and glorifying His holiness and instead to fall into pride and self-focus, distraction, and worry.
Such a quiet little sin. But such a lethal one. I’ll never get this morning back.
(Written July 2015, forgot to post it.)