A True Wannabe

We used to sing a little song in church growing up that was probably called "When I grow up..." It went something like this:

When I grow up, I want to be... (vigorous clapping)
I want to beeee a [insert profession here, i.e. doctor]
And if I am, I'm going to be... (more vigorous clapping)
A [doctor] whoooo's a Christian!!

Repeat as necessary to include all the dreams of the little kids in the group. Pretty sure we had cowboys, football players, firemen... you know, the usual suspects. Now despite "The Organization's" attempts to indoctrinate (pun, oops!) me, I've realized something recently.

My goal in life is not to become a good Christian whatever.

That is selling Christ so incredibly short and putting way too many blinders on the diversity and beauty of life. I was reading this morning about Mary and Martha's responses to Jesus being at their house. Martha was being the "good Christian woman" preparing food, cleaning the kitchen, setting the table, making sure all the kids were dressed appropriately, you know, because they had company. She got all hacked off at Mary who was in there lazing around listening to God speak.

Now this isn't to denigrate any of the aforementioned activities. I've been raised to have a large amount of respect for anyone who can cook, clean, organize, raise and coordinate, and even aspire to most of those things myself. The point here is the timing and the attitude toward God.

Fascination with people and Truth and full attentiveness to the ways in which God is moving in the world are all qualities that I desire much more than living by the norms. Sure, I want to have people over and cook for them, but when there is a precious moment to be shared, I also want to be the first one out of the kitchen.

This is where I tie it all together.

Some day, I'm hopefully going to be a doctor. Some day a patient is going to come in on the verge of tears wanting desperately just to talk and having no where else to turn. Efficiency, economy and propriety dictate that I take care of his/her medical concern and leave the emotional stuff to some one more qualified. This unnamed principle I've been pondering dictates that I drop everything else, reschedule my other patients and take the time to sit down and just allow some one to pour out there heart, giving them my full attention. I think that unnamed principle is called love.

When I grow up, I want to be, oh I want to be a doctor who is a passionate lover of people.