My favorite senior citizens to be around are those feisty ones who absolutely refuse to stay in any kind of “old people” box and who have a mischievous twinkle in their eye that grows more brilliant with each birthday.
I was recently privileged to participate in a weekend retreat with women ranging in age from 20-something to 70-something. On the first night, we played one of those ice-breaker, get-to-know-you games. We were all seated in a circle and I was next to a lady who, shall we say, was more advanced in years than I and whom I will call Thelma (absolutely not her real name).
The icebreaker game was not socially awkward, as so many tend to be (i.e., we were not instructed to approach five total strangers and in the span of 30 seconds, persuade them to tell us the three most heinous sins they’ve ever committed). The moderator simply began by asking everyone to write down answers to three questions: What is your favorite movie, your favorite Bible story, and your favorite food?
When it came time to go around the room and share our answers to the movie question, Thelma surprised me with her answer: “Gladiator,” the award-winning but somewhat gory film about the horrific favorite spectator sport in ancient Rome.
I looked at her and said, “No way.” She said, “Oh yea – I love that movie.”
Now it was time to reveal our favorite Bible story. Predictable responses came from all over the room — Noah’s ark, David and Goliath, Jonah and the whale, Jesus multiplying the fish and loaves to feed the multitudes. Then came Thelma’s answer: “David and Bathsheba.”
“Okay, Thelma is one saucy chick,” I thought, laughing out loud with the rest of the group at her irrrepressible spunk.
Then came the favorite food question. Lasagna, ice cream, pizza, steak, chocolate, chocolate and more chocolate, came the answers.
“Milk,” said Thelma. By this time, I was sure her answer would be buffalo burgers, raw oysters, tofu or something equally over the edge.
“Milk?” I turned and asked her. “Of all the food in the world, that’s your favorite?”
“Yea,” she answered. “I just love milk.”
I had a mental image of Thelma sitting in her recliner, watching “Gladiator” and drinking milk, with the story of David and Bathsheba open on her lap. The image made me chuckle. And it blew away some presuppositions I had unconsciously formed about this new friend. Thelma just wasn’t going to fit in the “senior citizen” box I had mentally prepared for her … and I love that.
I enjoy messing up the boxes people have prepared for me, too. Maybe if you’ve read this column before, you’ve decided, “She’s one of those whacky, fundamental, Bible-thumpin’ Christians.” So perhaps you dress me up in support hose, gaudy polyester, big, big hair and no make-up, and place me in your tidy mental box for the overly religious.
Here’s the real deal: I wear hose only when I have to, make-up when I need to, and blue jeans most of the time. And never, ever, ever will my hair be “big.” True followers of Jesus Christ hail from all socioeconomic levels and represent the entire spectrum of human intelligence, talent, appearance and occupations, so please don’t assume we’re all alike. Our God is more creative than that.
If you’ve written off Christianity because you think Christians come in only two flavors: hypocritical and dull, I urge you to reconsider. And, if you have one, please burn your box of negative preconceptions. I, for one, am tired of being stuffed in those by the biased liberal news media and fearful, narrow-minded “Jesusphobes.”
Like Thelma, I might surprise you. If you really get to know Him, Jesus will, too. And I’m sure it would delight Him to do so.