It's always been a rarity for me to be inconspicuous. Today, at Wednesday night meal at church, I chose a back table, back turned from the door, spread out my bag and papers, unrolled my sandwich and ate in peace. Not that I didn't warrant company, or was slighting someone from my bad mood (anytime I did this as a child, I was always condemned for being in a bad mood. Being questioned about if I was in a bad mood always inevitably provoked me into a bad mood). As selfish as this sounds, I was in need of some me time.
It was an experiment of sorts, too. Reading through my "Wild at Heart" book, the man that is driven himself to perfection extremes, the driven man of the corporate world (in a sense, my kids have become my product with the amount we test) must sometimes sit back and force himself into a role he is uncomfortable with. For me, that's being in the back row. As far as I can remember, I've forced myself into the spotlight. I craved attention in negative ways, lots of sarcasm, the funniest guy in the room routines, the one who always knew the most foul joke.
My family enabled me to be the center of attention. Literally at my grandmother's is a photograph of me in some cheesy 70's cowboy-rainbow-cactus getup. It was still there a few years back before my grandmother moved. It was my daily reminder of the shrine that was me. (Hell, this blog is all about me, isn't it?)
Attention seeker that I was, it never quite had the impact I had imagined. I craved attention from girls, but was only the best friend, if that. I wanted some kind of approval from my fathers, didn't receive it. My mom loved me unconditionally like a mother should, but I think in a sense it gave this sense of me-versus-all hispanic guys. I wasn't the macho--I went and CRIED watching Steel Magnolias! I wasn't the auto junkie--I'm a writer, dammit! A poet!
I had great guy friends but I always felt short. Not athletic enough, not white enough, not preppy enough, not ethnic enough, not thin enough. So I kept shaking hands and cracking jokes. If I ever went anywhere in Houston, it was rare that someone didn't know who I was or recognize me. I still feel this sense when I return home. Who is here that I know? Who can I impress?
Without warning, this acceptance/narcissistic trend followed me into Christianity. God erases sins, but the Devil likes to remind us of the traits that make us human. God accepts us, and in a sense, he magnifies the best qualities we have for His glory. That's what I'm learning. Today's church adorns itself in a litany of sign-up sheets in the carpeted hallway. Prayer walls, email chains and bible studies. We make decisions of study not for the content but for the people we get to sit alongside with. I'm guilty of this sin the most. Who can I meet? Who can I impress? If I learn something about myself, so the better.
Even worse, I'm a counter. A counter of attendance, of services, of who is late and who read the aforementioned chapter. I'll admit my faults because self-deprivation has its funny moments. We chuckle at the self-aware, jolly dude in the front row who is always smiling. Fat man always laughing. And sweating.
That ego projection is harmful, I've come to know. I take it personal. These slights, the lack of viewership. It's an attack that I was not privy too. Satan has been laughing his red skin off. I love me weight watcher meetings simply because I get to talk even more. I rarely stop to listen. My wife stops mid sentence because I'm checking how many people "liked" my status on FB. How could you not like my status?
So today, I sat. People came up to my table and drew napkins from the dispenser as if I weren't there. Grabbed the salt and pepper. I didn't pat anyone's back. I'd like to say this is the beginning of another me. I've been asked to submit my assertiveness at school by whispering re-directions and reprimands. I wouldn't know what a day would be if I wasn't good-morninged by 20 kids. I know there is a lot of God in those tiny voices. He's telling me to raise my head and be grateful for another day.
But what about this new endeavor into men's ministry at the church? How exactly can I lead without being in the front? Jesus led as a servant. He defied expectations. He payed the tax and gave even more. He washed feet. He was the center of attention but made you feel as if you were the only person in Jerusalem he was saving.
Unrolling that sandwich brings fear to mind too. The lonely Reynaldo, when I lived with grandma and gorged on food behind a door that frequently wanted to be bothered as much as I wished. Just waiting for someone to knock, to ask how I was doing. And finally giving an honest answer.
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