my email from anne

i could never live in portland. or seattle. or anywhere that rained really frequently. unless i had been born and raised there, i think living there would be disastrous for me. i'd have to survive solely on their coffee and music scenes ... okay, so maybe it wouldn't be a disaster for me ...

it's rainy like portland here today. and after trying to take down 3 really, really bad cups of coffee at work, i felt the weight of the day come down on me.

thankfully, i'm finding that i work with a loving staff (how many people can say that?). i don't know whether she noticed me about to break or if someone had brought me to her attention, but my boss soon dropped by my desk and asked me to pop into her office where i promptly divulged into tears: what am i really doing here? do i belong? is there room for me?

why i cry so easily is beyond me. it's a clear sign, perhaps, that i'd make a terrible actress. i feel rather transparent at times like that, and have to fight off deep and wide insecurities when i leave that person with whom i've just been so revealing.

this afternoon, i received an email from an old coworker who was responding to a note i'd sent out to my address book about this new position i'd taken at church. anne and i were pretty close at work. she's much of the reason i fell in love with my old job. i remember coming in for my first interview and hearing her before i actually saw her. i hadn't yet walked around the corner but i could hear this honest laugh and the jingle of the bells on her long, hippie-ish skirt. anne had beautiful, long, dark brown hair. she didn't like to wear her shoes in the office. she and i bonded over the fact that we both had moms who were spanish teachers. we loved music and talked about how much we'd like to go to see austin city limits or bonaroo. even though she was in a much different life stage with a husband and two kids, we liked each other.

i always felt i was honest with her about who i was. she knew i was a christian, and i appreciated her interest in her jewish heritage. we genuinely liked each other.

her e-mail today expressed how truly happy she was for me in my new job. but her next paragraph was a surprise:

I visited the church's website. It looks like quite a busy place! Although I have to admit a strong knee-jerk reaction to anything mission-like. I strongly believe in freedom of religious thought and in the beauty of religious history and tradition. Missionary efforts if not to erase local religious culture, traditions, and history, then to, at a minimum, significantly and permanently alter them. They approach their constituents from a position that their religion is superior to others - that their way is the right way. This attitude, quite simply, has been used to justify innumerable atrocities over the course of human history - all in the name of God. Furthermore, no God I can imagine would support a one-size fits all, my way or the highway, approach to "redemption" or simply being goodliness. I've always been puzzled as to why more religious groups wouldn't be interested in providing services and resources free of "religious" charge to the recipients.

Wow. Didn't mean to land on that soap box. I know that you are a very respectful, honorable, and ethical person. And I completely respect your religious conviction. And know that you, of all people, have a great deal of respect for others.

Her e-mail makes me sad. It makes my heart break. I imagine Jesus hearing this, and before everything, thinking about how much he loves her, and then his heart breaking over all the pain that missionaries have caused in His name, and then, then when she says, "no God I can imagine would support a one-size fits all, my way or the highway, approach to 'redemption'" that he would think, "is that what you call My sacrifice?" And then does His heart break again, wondering if she is too offended by "religion" to talk to Him herself? Who will love Anne beyond religion?

...

Back in the office, my boss listened to my questions as I gasped for air between sobs. She nodded sympathetically. And she affirmed me, told me I was wanted, told me she wants to help me succeed, told me that she's excited about me being here. Told me I belonged as I am.

...

I want to say the same thing to Anne. That I like her as she is. That I'm not trying to take anyone's local culture or her traditions from her. That I wish to God Christ-followers had a better reputation than the one we've got hanging above us, a neon arrow listing the innumerable atrocities the church has committed in the name of God. That I think her friendship has enriched my life. And that whether or not she believes it, I think God wants to love her to Himself, that He wants to bring her freedom from religion, that He enjoys her and wants her to have life in abundance.

Jesus, sometimes I wish you'd just reveal yourself to the whole world in person again.