The “long answers” for all of these questions are obviously tied to the book itself. The reason I included the questions at all is that some of the content can be “slippery.” The words sound familiar, and that familiarity can make it easy to rush past the question with tired answers, and to miss what might be new to those of us who adopted tired answers too easily before, and could stand to think about things in fresh ways – to find love in new ways.
1. For Vince, the worst thing anybody could call him was retarded. What is the worst, most terrifying thing a person could call you?
This has to do with admitting reality and turning to face it – whether we’re looking at what is true or what we work hard to keep from having become true. As I write this, I’m not feeling connected to “dumbass” anymore, and words about my weight mean very little. What I’m afraid of these days is that I could become a professional Christian, that I could package my faith in a nice way that turns a living relationship into mere symbols. I think this is always the risk we run when we share our testimonies. What’s funny is that even as I fear the prospect of becoming a mere Christian talking head, I also feel pressure that I’m not pursuing my calling enough, that I’m doing too many things that are close or parallel projects, but aren’t in the “sweet spot.” I guess for me today the worst thing – from one direction or the other – would be to be called “sellout.” I think the only way for me to live with the tension is to continually return to Jesus. Things get a lot simpler when I focus on my relationship with him.
2. Vince’s word, retarded, was terrifying because it was true, and he couldn’t change it, and he wasn’t sure what the word ultimately meant about him. How is your “worst word” similar?
It’s the meaning part that’s the worst for me. And the meaning I ascribe to my own shortcomings is never gentle, never patient. And once I become convinced of my scary word and the meaning I give it, I have a very hard time letting Jesus reshape my perspective – in fact, I tend to work very hard to keep him from seeing me at all.
3. The Beggar’s Curse, “at least I’m not,” is one way for people to negotiate with the hard truths in their worlds. How do you describe the difference between interacting with hard but true matters of fact, like being developmentally delayed or weighing 404 pounds, and interacting with the meanings we attach to those matters of fact? For example, the hard fact may be “I weigh 404 pounds,” but the meaning may be “I am embarrassing,” or “I am weak,” or “I should be ashamed of myself,” or “I cannot be credible because of this fact about me.”
God dwells in reality, not in my parallel reality. I can meet him in the real world, but not in my sick thinking.
The hard facts are nowhere near as scary or painful as the meanings I ascribe to them can be.
4. Where are your “at least I’m not” arguments taking you?
“At least I’m not” will always hound me to darker and weaker and more corrupt places. “At least I’m not” gives ground and always negotiates down.
See the previous chapter’s discussion questions here.
See the next chapter’s discussion questions here.
