I think I am not a very good witness. Actually, I know I am not a very good witness. I have no valid excuse. I love the people; I love them to the core of my being, and I will cry and pray over their plight. I cannot dispute what humankind deserves, though I hate to think of it, but somewhere before the rubber hits the road there must be a disconnect because I know I am not a very good witness. In my silence I will lose them. Because in so many ways I can be found guilty of doing nothing. Yes, I try to live my faith to the best of my ability. You can read my Christian t-shirt, or folder, or locker magnet. But somewhere between the alter and the door, or between Sunday and Monday I lose resolve in my responses.
I am not very good at in-person debates. Give me the written word and some time to think, and I will delight in debating, but I am not very good at responses. The crucial moment comes, and my neutral response passes without conflict. Another moment passes unseized, another scenario to replay late into the night. There is a difference between not doing wrong, and doing right. As I think I consider my ‘friends’. (Friends as in people I see and talk to daily; people I care about, though they apparently don’t know me beyond the surface.) Do they know my passion? Do they know my failings? Do they see me leaning on God? As someone who advocates vulnerability am I real with them? Sometimes I am forced to wonder…When they are surprised that I say “I’m screwed.” before a test. She said “I like that you.” I said “What?”
I don’t try to have a good girl persona. I get depressed too. If they don’t even know that part of me then how can they know something deeper, like faith? I see these people every weekday. Minutes add up to hours, and hours add up to days. Days of my life spent with these who do not even know me. I’m not a very good witness even though I care deeply. This makes me mad, and sad, and dissatisfied. How can anyone make it through life without God? How can I stand not to tell them? That’s wrong…To keep the truth hidden inside. I do care, but my responses are off. They draw out the tough girl in me, or the good girl, or maybe just the passive chameleon. I don’t try to change who I am with different people. I want to be the same me always. I want to be consistent because inconsistency irks me. Sometimes I think I don’t know how to be a good witness, and sometimes I think that’s just an excuse. I’m frustrated with myself today: how could I let something that important go by the wayside? There is a chance I could save someone from drowning, and here I stand observing saying “I think I’m not a very good witness…”