Warning: Really long post ahead. Break it up over the next few days and it'll seem like I blog every day.

My colleague is a wonderful British woman in her late 50's. She loves her kids dearly; I can tell by the way she talks to them on the phone. She wants to do her job with excellence, whether it's making phone calls or making purchases for our department. Occasionally, if she's really angry, she uses four letter words. And I can't help but smile...because she's British and I like how she sounds. She's the sort of person you want to be around.

And she doesn't believe in God.

We've talked about it. She has a really hard past. One of those stories that doesn't seem real. And she can't get past the age-old question, "How could God do this to me and to the people I love?" What do you say in that moment that doesn't sound trite? I don't know how to offer any comfort or joy to her situation. I can tell her that God is Love. He is good, and kind, and peace-giving. I can tell her that God didn't do this.

But then I get stuck.

Because He did let it happen. And we all know from our years of D.A.R.E and classes against bullying, etc., that letting it happen is the same as doing it yourself. That's what we're taught to believe anyway.

So today my colleague started the day by asking me, "Do you believe in the rapture?"

Yes. Yes, I do.

And I felt like I was saying that I believe in Care Bears and leprechauns and fairies.

Seriously? I believe that one day everyone who trusts in Jesus is going to get sucked up into the sky to go live forever with Him?

Yes. Yes, I do.

I would think I'm crazy.

I don't doubt it for a second. I believe so thoroughly and deeply that I don't think I could ever not believe again. But it's hard to explain.

I asked her if she believes. No. Obviously not. She believes that earth is Hell and there must be something better after death.

I told her I agree...sort of. This is as bad as it's ever going to get for those who have trusted Christ. Whether I die, or Jesus comes back, I'm living forever with Him in heaven.

After we talked about that for a few minutes, she started to tell me about her neighbors. She told me, "I think they're trying to save me." She is annoyed by this and slightly offended that anyone would think that she needs saving. She told me that she was getting out of her car one day and she had her arms full of groceries and pool cleaning equipment, when her neighbor and a friend approached her with "religious materials" and started talking at her. She told them it was all rubbish and that she didn't believe all that, and they went away, no doubt, feeling defeated.

At this point in our conversation she said, "But there must be a God, because at that point I realized that I had locked myself out of my house."

Her inherent belief in Karma has somewhat persuaded her to a belief in God.
Or at least god.
Interesting.


Her story continued...

She was feeling guilty about treating them kind of harshly and was sharing the whole story with another neighbor who invited her in to her home. My colleague said that this neighbor kept saying "Mmmm," and looked at her with surprise (at her unbelief) and then pity. But this neighbor made her a cup of coffee and let her use the phone (to call to try to get someone to come unlock her house). While they waited they chatted. And the woman sent my colleague on her way with a copy of The Case for Faith by Lee Strobel. I've never read this book, but I hope that it can explain things better than I do. I told her that she should read it...that it may offer some answer to the question, "Why do bad things happen to good people?" She said she would.

Then she started talking about spirits and ghosts. She believes in all of it. I told her I agree...sort of. I told her that I believe in angels and demons and the devil. I believe that there is evil lurking and that he/she/it will do whatever possible to drive a wedge between us and God.

Then we went back to work.


Last Sunday, part of the sermon was about how no Christian should hate their job, because he/she is God's plan for redemption for where they are.

Boo that!
I hate my job.

I told God that I don't want to be His plan for here. I don't like it here. I would like to be His plan for somewhere else. And I came to work, ready to sit at my computer and not fulfill any plan.

And then my colleague asked me about the rapture.

I still don't want to be God's plan. I don't think that I would be the best plan. (I actually got excited when I heard about the neighbors, because it was a reminder that I'm not THE plan. There are others. It's bigger than me).
I do think, however, that I can love my neighbor. At least, sometimes.
And I think we should be more like the second neighbor. Inviting people in for coffee and to use our phone, helping them carry their groceries, and gently handing them a book that may help answer some questions. I don't think that when someone is weighed down with something, whether it be pool supplies, fear, pain, or resentment, I don't think that's the best time to thrust our faith in their face. That's the time to take some of the burden, and when they've had a chance to catch their breath, when they've had their coffee, then you can offer some answers. Then you can share your faith.
Because our faith is not one that makes the burden heavier. It is not something to add to what we're carrying. His way is easy. His burden is light.


And I guess I'm ok being part of the plan for here while I'm here...as long as it doesn't keep me here.