Mental filibusters

When obsessing over theology becomes a way to avoid obedience | Andrée Seu

Carolyn did Greek boot camp with me at seminary. She was a Carolinian, a people person, and outspoken in her love for Jesus—everything I was not. I chalked it up to Southern culture. I explained to her that I was reticent by natural endowment, and more prone to wait for the right moment. She wasn't impressed: "I've got plenty of faults, but shuttin' up ain't one of them."

I did not like Carolyn.

Twenty-seven-odd years later I'm still waiting for the right moment, and Carolyn's probably blabbed the gospel all over Dixie. She has offended many people, I'm sure. A few have come to faith (law of averages). She has done this though I'll bet dollars to donuts I scored higher in Apologetics. I, on the other hand, continue to be culturally sensitive. No neighbor of mine can fault me for violating boundaries after 18 years on the block. I have tiptoed over with homemade cream puffs, and tomatoes from my garden, without them ever suspecting I did it for Christ.