Tell me who I am.

In his book The Signature of Jesus, Brennan Manning writes, "We would be known as [Jesus's] followers not because we are chaste, celibate, honest, sober, or respectable; not because we are church-going, Bible-toting, or Psalm-singing: We would be recognized as disciples primarily by our deep and delicate respect for one another, our cordial love impregnated with reverence for the sacred dimension of the human personality."

Yesterday, a coworker and I took our lunches to the park across the street. There, reclining on the concrete steps by the Abe Lincoln statue, T asked me how things were going with my boyfriend.

"Tell me what he does again?" she inquired. "Youth ministry," I answered calmly, though still a bit nervously, afraid that sharing that fact in an environment quite unwelcome to anything affiliated with religion would sentence me to a month of loneliness in the office.

"Really," she responded thoughtfully. "I'd never have imagined you with someone in ministry."

Our conversation continued, though my mind kept drifting back to that thought: "I'd never have imagined you with someone in ministry." What does that mean?

I had to question her.

"I don't know," she said. "I guess I knew you were raised Catholic, but thought maybe you were just open to anything. I mean, I suppose I think maybe I'm the only one sitting at my desk, thinking about God, or the Creator, or any deity. I suppose I just never thought of anyone else in our office doing the same thing."

This afternoon, I received an invitation to fill out an application for a ministry position I'd sent my resume in for yesterday. The application requires that I ask my employer to fill out a reference form, and answer questions about how my faith affects my work (if applicable).

The point is, if I give it to my boss, I'll be discovered.

Is that awful?

I think I've been loving at work. I think I've really cared about people and taken the time to get to know them because I sense even just a bit of how much God loves them. But my love doesn't seem to tell people that I'm a Christian.

Here's the thing. I'm not a regular church-goer. I'm in and out of town pretty often and don't feel like I've had a church home in all the 4 years I've been here. My bible study broke up years ago. And I don't wear cross jewelry or a WWJD bracelet.

So if I ask my boss to fill out a reference for me, it'll be evident at last. And I fear what he'll think of me. I fear he'll think that I'm all of the bad stereotypes of Christians. I fear he'll think I'm selling myself short for "church work," or that he'll wonder if I'm damning him to hell, or if he'll pity me for considering a position that elicits so little respect from the world at large.

I'm filtering through a slew of questions in my head. Do I want all the glory? Do I want to be the one who helps the "poor" missionaries? Is having a mission-related job something that makes your parents disappointed? Do I desire the approval and applause of others more than that of God?

When I re-read that Manning quote, and realize that maybe no one knows in my office that I am my Beloved's and He is mine, I can't help but ask God if He knows it. Does He know that I'm trying to follow him?

Honestly, yes. That's enough.

I wonder if I need to end this and say that I think as long as God knows that I love him and I'm trying, that I don't need to do anything else. I can't flaunt the characteristics of Christ, and I don't want to carry a big bible all the way to the office just to set it at the top of my purse in case someone happens to glance at it.

I can let go of my fear. God knows me.

God knows me! God knows me!
(This excites me).

If He knows that I'm following him, there is nothing else I have to do. I think people will see Him in us when He wants them to. I like that. Cause then it's not all about me. It's all about Him.

It's much better that way anyhow.