Who I Am

July 29, 2017

There was a time when I wouldn't have done what I did. I would have done the socially acceptable thing, remained invisible, and everyone would have been happy. It all started Thursday evening as I was preparing to head to my campsite for the evening. The main pavilion had pretty well cleared out, except for three guys, on of whom called out and asked if I wanted to join them for dinner. Other than my normal introverted preferences, I had no good reason to decline, so I agreed, and followed them to a motor home. Steve is a quiet guy like myself, so it took awhile before he opened up; Paul was somewhere in the middle, but Larry, the owner of the motor home is about as far on the other end of the scale as one can get. Tall and garrulous, speech laced with frequent profanity, he had been a civilian contractor in the Elmira prison, teaching inmates printing, aluminum metal casting, and who knows what else.

I don't suppose a Casper Milquetoast would survive long in a maximum security prison, and Larry is anything but milquetoast. He said he considers it a day wasted if he hasn’t offended someone. But he has a heart for children, and invests huge amounts of time with an organization that helps the most vulnerable of them. The three of us had dinner together, then sat and talked for a couple hours. Actually, Larry talked, in answer to my question about his volunteer work. The guy is passionate about it.

At one point, when he went into his motor home to put away the remnants of our dinner, Paul asked me about my line of work. I told him, and nothing more was said. Larry came back out, and picked up where he had left off. It was getting dark, so I bid them a restful evening and left for my campsite. The next morning, I was down at the pavilion bright and early. Larry and Paul were there, making the coffee. After some small talk, Paul asked if I would like to join them for breakfast, so we piled into Paul's car, headed to town, where we had a good meal before running a few errands Larry needed to attend to as one of the organizers of the rally.

This morning, breakfast was catered at the pavilion, and as I was in the staging area talking with another Ural rider (There were only a handful of us), Paul motioned from the pavilion and shouted, “Would you be willing to offer the grace for breakfast?” I agreed, and a few 

Minutes later, did so. And that's when it all began.

I asked the blessing, closing as I always do, by  Jesus’ name. It's not merely a formula for me; I have no standing with God except for the grace of Christ. My spiritual bank account was not only empty; I was in spiritual debt, so praying in my name would be like writing a check with insufficient funds. The prayer would bounce higher than if I wrote a million dollar check. Jesus’ account however, is full, and better yet, he has credited mine with all I need. So when I pray in Jesus’ name, it's like signing his name to the check, and it's all legal.

Immediately after the prayer, a man came up and said, “That prayer wasn't non-denominational.” 

“I know that,” I replied, to which he responded, “It was inappropriate.” He later came up to me and said he hoped I wasn't offended by his remark. I wasn't, and told him so.

The weekend schedule includes a non-denominational service Sunday morning, so his comment didn't really surprise me, but it changes nothing. Years ago, I would likely have prayed an innocuous, vapid prayer that pleased everyone except my Lord. I would have gone out of my way to avoid offending someone. What I've learned though, is that while this prayer may have been offensive, it was not inappropriate. Inappropriate would have been for me to pray a prayer that was not true to who I am as a Christian. Once, I would have done that, but no more. If I am asked to pray over another meal, I will warn the organizers that I will again pray in Jesus’ name. If they want to ask someone else, I am fine with that. I don't want to cause them undue trouble, but I am willing to be offensive in order that I may appropriately live out who I am as a follower of Christ who took my offense upon himself in the cross.