Letting God shine through...eventually
Saturday night at the book signing at The Bookworm in Frisco, a friendly-looking man approached me and asked what my book was about. I told him it was about being gay and Christian, which is a bit vague I suppose, but usually gets at least the beginnings of a point across.
He asked, "Do you find that difficult?" I replied, "At times. The book covers my experience growing up in Nebraska and I felt sheltered there."
For some reason, I didn't feel like he fully realized what side of the gay Christian fence I was standing on. Angela later said she agreed; that maybe he didn't quite get it. Perhaps it was his appearance. He looked a bit like a young Pat Robertson who might recently have attended a Southern Baptist Convention, so when he asked me if I found being gay and Christian difficult, I immediately wondered if he expected me to reply with something anti-gay. Yes, I judged him. I don't know a thing about his history, and yet when he asked me about mine, the self-defense mechanism in my brain immediately assessed him and turned my response into a tentative and guarded one.
I knew I had to conjure up at least a little strength. It was in there somewhere. God put strength inside me, and it's always up to me to consciously open up the gates and override the filters that keep it contained. So when this man further tried to figure me out and asked, "So when did you become a Christian?" I said, "Well, I've been a Christian all my life. Because faith came first, I had a hard time when I finally awakened to the fact that I was gay. I had to do something to reconcile that with faith." His expression changed ever so slightly, but his demeanor didn't. He was still friendly. He said, "I see. Well best of luck with the book." After that we exchanged pleasantries about living in the north Dallas suburbs and he was on his way.
It wasn't a negative experience, but one that caused me to question my rush to judgment, and the reasons behind my inability to be strong in conversations from the very beginning. So much depends on the vibe I get from the person I'm talking to. Earlier in the evening a woman asked me the same initial question (What is your book about?), and I had no problem talking to her about it. But the vibe I got from her was one of complete acceptance and genuine interest. Opening up was easy once she told me that she was a Christian with many gay friends, and just didn't know how to have a conversation with them. She wanted to encourage her gay friends to get closer to God. I had all sorts of things to say in response to that, so the conversation was natural and easy. I have to learn how to be just as steady when the vibe isn't quite so warm.
And so the growing process continues.
Since the book was released, I've learned a lot about myself. Writing involves such an incredible zone. When I'm writing I can be totally in the moment and my mind is focused on what I want to say, how I want to say it, and what effect I hope the words will ultimately have. There are no walls, and it's intimate. When I'm talking to someone about what I wrote, the zone is blown to bits! There is no zone, and that sometimes makes me become guarded. There are a million variables involved in verbal communication, and it seems like all of them are hell-bent on chipping away at the intimacy. That forces me to reinvent my methods, and makes me more aware of the reasons why I should allow each conversation to make me better.
The zone (i.e. focus) is there when I'm on the radio and when I'm speaking in front of a group...most of the time at least. It's the one-on-one verbal communication that's difficult for me and makes me squirm at times. At least I'm narrowing it down to the area most in need of improvement! And SO the growing process continues.
He asked, "Do you find that difficult?" I replied, "At times. The book covers my experience growing up in Nebraska and I felt sheltered there."
For some reason, I didn't feel like he fully realized what side of the gay Christian fence I was standing on. Angela later said she agreed; that maybe he didn't quite get it. Perhaps it was his appearance. He looked a bit like a young Pat Robertson who might recently have attended a Southern Baptist Convention, so when he asked me if I found being gay and Christian difficult, I immediately wondered if he expected me to reply with something anti-gay. Yes, I judged him. I don't know a thing about his history, and yet when he asked me about mine, the self-defense mechanism in my brain immediately assessed him and turned my response into a tentative and guarded one.
I knew I had to conjure up at least a little strength. It was in there somewhere. God put strength inside me, and it's always up to me to consciously open up the gates and override the filters that keep it contained. So when this man further tried to figure me out and asked, "So when did you become a Christian?" I said, "Well, I've been a Christian all my life. Because faith came first, I had a hard time when I finally awakened to the fact that I was gay. I had to do something to reconcile that with faith." His expression changed ever so slightly, but his demeanor didn't. He was still friendly. He said, "I see. Well best of luck with the book." After that we exchanged pleasantries about living in the north Dallas suburbs and he was on his way.
It wasn't a negative experience, but one that caused me to question my rush to judgment, and the reasons behind my inability to be strong in conversations from the very beginning. So much depends on the vibe I get from the person I'm talking to. Earlier in the evening a woman asked me the same initial question (What is your book about?), and I had no problem talking to her about it. But the vibe I got from her was one of complete acceptance and genuine interest. Opening up was easy once she told me that she was a Christian with many gay friends, and just didn't know how to have a conversation with them. She wanted to encourage her gay friends to get closer to God. I had all sorts of things to say in response to that, so the conversation was natural and easy. I have to learn how to be just as steady when the vibe isn't quite so warm.
And so the growing process continues.
Since the book was released, I've learned a lot about myself. Writing involves such an incredible zone. When I'm writing I can be totally in the moment and my mind is focused on what I want to say, how I want to say it, and what effect I hope the words will ultimately have. There are no walls, and it's intimate. When I'm talking to someone about what I wrote, the zone is blown to bits! There is no zone, and that sometimes makes me become guarded. There are a million variables involved in verbal communication, and it seems like all of them are hell-bent on chipping away at the intimacy. That forces me to reinvent my methods, and makes me more aware of the reasons why I should allow each conversation to make me better.
The zone (i.e. focus) is there when I'm on the radio and when I'm speaking in front of a group...most of the time at least. It's the one-on-one verbal communication that's difficult for me and makes me squirm at times. At least I'm narrowing it down to the area most in need of improvement! And SO the growing process continues.
posted by Jen Austin at 12:24 PM
1 Comments:
I've known you for quite some time now Jen and proud of it. I think you have grown so very much. God is with you and he does give you the strength to conquer anything you want to. I remember a time when a you wouldn't talk at all! I love who you've become even more.
Love,
Mamma Cindi
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