Hiding

In the game of hide n seek, I have always been much better at hiding than seeking.

My favorite hide n seek memory involves me and a childhood friend (we'll call him R) hiding from his sister (A) and my cousin (H). They decided that it would be "oldest" against "youngest," and R and I were to hide first. We hid out in the woods on the side of the yard nearest the house. Then, R said to me, "OK, let's trick them!" and he and I belly crawled army style across the lawn while A and H searched the treeline on the other side of the lawn. The house had been declared "off limits" by their supreme highnesses, but we belly crawled behind it and then we crouched down and ran around the other side while they searched the woods where we had just been. That gave us time to come in the back door to the kitchen without being seen. We could hear them calling our names as we eased the screen door open and gently let it latch.

Inside, the adults were having choir practice, and some of the ladies were getting "lunch" ready, which where I come from is an afternoon snack that is composed of several types of bars, possibly some kind of salty snack such as mixed nuts or crackers, and sometimes sadwhiches, served with beverages that include, but are not limited to, hot or iced tea, coffee, lemonade/Koolaid, and ice water (if you are lame). It is not the midday meal that people in the city think it is; rather, it is served at 3 or 4 in the afternoon. The ladies, good Luthern grandmother types, welcomed us in, and we sat down at the counter to brownies and milk for at least thirty mintues before A and H came tumbling in asking if anyone had seen us. There we sat, covered in chocolate frosting and smiles. A and H were so mad, but we had proven our point. Don't mess with the youngests. We hide incredibly well.

I have always found great places to hide. I was the first of our set to consider hiding in the bathtub behind the shower curtain. I once hid in the bottom of Grandma and Grandpa's bizarre closet that you had to step over a little partition to get into. It had a wooden door that we were forbidden to shut if we were hiding in there, and they kept old magazines in the bottom. Don't ask me why. I piled these on top of myself. Even though this was everyone's favorite hiding place, no one had ever thought to get under the magazines, only behind the suits. No one found me that time. I was also an expert at coming out after someone had been caught without letting anyone see where I'd come from so that I could continue to reuse my hiding place over and over again.

At college, I would disappear on Saturdays to do homework. I had a series of places I would go, all of them excellent places to hide: The DC early in the morning, the end of the department hall until 11 or 12 when people starting arriving for events, the Seminary Library on the bottom or top floors, two rooms back in the journals where they stored extra furniture because so few people used the space. Even now, at work, if I don't want you to find me, you won't. I know who goes down what hall and when. I know a few good places to lay low when I need to get away from people. I can even hide pretty well in a crowd. I have been known, even now, to turn off my cell phone for a day (sometimes, in rare instances, two) and just disappear. I go to various places that make me happy where no one will look for me, though this is harder now that everyone and their mother knows me from work.

My faith is no exception to this rule. At church, I recently decided that I should volunteer to be a greeter because they needed greeters and it wouldn't be that big a hassle to me. Aside from the fact that no one knows where anything is (cause I also help set up some of the decorations), I am finding myself extremely uncomfortable in this new role. I have been going to this church for three years, but I take long vacations from church altogether from time to time, and I have mostly been sneaking in after the first worship song has started and bolting out before the last chord of the closing song has finished ringing. Now I am shaking hands and saying hi to people and mostly people say things like, "You haven't been going here very long, have you?" like what the crap am I doing being a greeter already.

Everytime someone from last week remembers my name this week, it makes me want to run. Everytime someone says, "Hi, how are you, (my name)?" I cringe. Even though the fact that no one knew my name even after I got involved was the reason I left my last church, this makes me want to head for the hills. Everytime someone says, "Wow, you just really jumped right in, didn't you? You just started coming here, right?" I want to spend the rest of my Sundays on my couch watching NASCAR. No, I did not just jump right in. I have been hiding for three years, and I don't want to stop. How about I go back to hiding, and you all can go back to doing this yourself? I thought it was going to be really easy and they were begging for help, so I did it, but God is really using it to show me just exactly how much I have distanced myself from His people--His Peeps, if you will.

I don't know what verse to put with this. I guess it has a little to do with Matthew 5:15: "Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house." I have long been afraid that my lamp is not the kind that shines light on people but the kind that lights things on fire and destroys. I'm afraid of getting too close to people of the religious variety because so much of who I am and what I've become does not fit into what they believe perfect religious people should be. And maybe who I am doesn't bless or benefit anybody.

And I get tired of telling that story. I get tired of telling the story of my dead best friend and how it broke my heart and changed me and let me see past a lot of the bullshit that people make up to make themselves comfortable. I get tired of explaining that that's why I live in extremes--taking as much of everything I like as I can get because I might not be around tomorrow and it might not be around tomorrow. I get tired of telling how I have very little faith in other people. Other people leave you--abandon you. The only person you can rely on is yourself is what I've come to believe over the years, and I have built my life around being self-reliant because of it. I don't want to depend on God. I don't want to depend on anyone.

I get tired of explaning how I don't really want to be a Christian and I don't really want to follow God's plan for me (even though I know I should, which creates all kinds of contradictions in my actions) and how my biggest struggle is believing that God has good things in store when so much has been taken away so violently in my past. I get tired of explaining how I wanted to be an atheist for a long time but just couldn't and having to listen to people stare at me like I'm crazy. I get tired of having to tell people about how I was once suicidal and sometimes still feel empty at the end of the day. I get tired of having so many damned problems.

The thing is, I can't come out of hiding one more time only to have people say, "Oh, just kidding. We didn't really want to find you. We wanted to find something pretty and nice and neat. You are a mess. Why don't you go back to hiding?"

Then again, maybe what this stupid religion needs is a few more people who are a mess who just won't hide it anymore. You can't have redemption without a fall. Without a mess, you can't see miracles. Without being willing to see other people's problems, you can't fully appreciate how far they've come and how far they will continue to go. You can't see God move unless you see what He's had to wade through to do it. That's just the way of it. "You have to dance both, they say, otherwise you can't dance either" (Pratchett).

"Suppose one of you has a hundred sheep and loses one of them. Does he not leave the ninety-nine in the open country and go after the lost sheep until he finds it? And when he finds it, he joyfully puts it on his shoulders and goes home. Then he calls his friends and neighbors together and says, 'Rejoice with me; I have found my lost sheep.'"

I guess in the end, all I know is that I can't hide from God. I can run, but he always comes looking for me. And he's far better at finding than I ever was at hiding.