Several years ago my friend H.B. and I mulled over this idea -- the life of a pastor's family is never quite hidden. At that time she and her husband were on their way to a large church where they would quickly be known by thousands of people, and Jason and I were just beginning our ministry in Spring Hill. Even then, though, we mused about how our every action (like having a little disagreement with your husband in the local Mexican restaurant) might forever more been "seen" by someone. Now over the years I have grown to realize that part of being salt and light is being transparent. Yet, like it or not, our actions "seen" by others are not always weighed on equal scales. It is just part of the calling, the surrendering, the dying to self, and the "title".
For those of you in a small town this whole concept might not make much sense. I understand it is very normal for you see 10 people you know on your average run to Walmart, but for Jason and I in a town of 25,000 unindigenous Spring Hillians it is unusual. That is until recently. It seems that the 5 years of investing in our community is catching up with us, and we are no longer anonymous. (That can be a scary thought because I am human and sometimes I'm not a very good one.)
You see. It happened this week. The day I have been knowing would happen for quite sometime. I went on a 15 minute run to Target and saw three people we know from various connections. That was followed by a trip to the local Kroger where I ran into four families we know well in less than 30 minutes. (Again, I know that is foreign to those of you in a small town, but it did not always happen to us like that here.) Then, Saturday we hosted a yard sale in the driveway of our new home. And although we only posted it on Craig's List we had multiple conversations with "customers" that quickly connected us to Grace Park. There was W, who is also having a home built by our builder, and L, who was one of the original fourth grade teachers of the school where we meet for worship. Then there was S., who has visited with us at GP several times, and A., whose son came to Mission Possible. And, there was one of the hostesses from the local Mexican restaurant. And, on it goes. So, it really hit me again. We are no longer anonymous.
And that lack of anonymity carries with it responsibility. We are His ambassadors, His messengers, His salt and light. And, whether I choose it or not I am watched. So I better represent well (even on a quick run to the grocery store) because I wear His name in a town of the unindigenous where I live to redefine perceptions.
