The fellas at Shalom House have very varied stories, but two of the same name came to mind this morning. Every Saturday night there is a bring & share meal and one of these dinners found us sitting at a table with the older Martin – and his dad. They sat quietly together but smiled and spoke when friendliness was extended.
A couple of weeks ago I chatted briefly with him again but the fateful moment came when I had to admit I couldn’t remember his name. He reminded me and kept on smiling – but I’ve never felt so sad at not remembering someone’s name as I saw a little light go out inside him at not being remembered. I wondered later if he’d had a life of being overlooked… he did brighten a few moments later when I recounted parts of the earlier conversation where he knew HE was not forgotten 🙂 … just his name 🙁 . I was glad to see him brighten but our names are such a part of us I determined to try harder to log them in…
I mean I hate to admit it but there are mums from our school years that I knew for more than a decade whose names I still don’t know… I’ve winged it and hoped I was never busted and seem to have made it out the other side undetected and I will never tell who they are. Can’t really can I?
Back to the two Martins.
The younger first came to my attention when I heard him give his testimony at a different church. It was extremely compelling. Weeks later he chatted to me about the deposition I gave – saying how touched he was by that – and I felt I had a new friend. But this was also before my new and as yet untested determination to remember names better. So the third time I saw him I had to ask again as I really want to do better than my school effort. This Martin was delighted to tell me even though he knew it was at least the 3rd time I’d been given it – and I wondered at the difference between the two men.
One was sad… the other completely un-phased.
One perhaps felt he’d made no impression… the other already knew that he had.
One didn’t know how welcome his conversation had been and still was… the other took it for granted and fairly bounced on the spot like a grown Tiggr.
This wandering set of thoughts brought me round to the kinds of ways we approach God when we want to talk to Him. Some have a gloomy ‘it’s me again, is there any point’ Eeyore demeanour… some have a deLIGHTed ‘it’s me again and aren’t we both so pleased I’m here!’ kind of vibe.
I recon He welcomes both – but is sad for Eeyore not to trust in his welcome.
Tim Keller
“The only person who dares wake up a king at 3:00 AM for a glass of water is a child. We have that kind of access.”
PS Martin isn’t their real name