March 18, 2020 After my recent car accident, I did what nearly any millennial would do: I posted about it on social media. I’ve been reflecting a lot about how I phrased the post. Why do I keep revisiting it? I gave credit to my Jeep, not Jesus, for saving my life. Every week, as part of my duties as editor of this newspaper, I share some reflection about how I see God working in my life, how I’m living out my faith or how I’m struggling to do so. It’s my job to share my faith. While I will likely always struggle with writing the column (I struggle to come up with ideas, I struggle with feelings of unworthiness…), I’ve become somewhat accustomed to writing about my faith for this purpose. I’ve gotten to where I don’t mind writing about my faith for (mostly) strangers, especially strangers I assume are most likely men and women also trying to live out their faith. Yet I shy away from sharing my faith – how I experience God, and where I see Him working – with my family, friends and acquaintances. I let my pride and my desire to be accepted prevent me from sharing my faith openly on social media or (sometimes) in person. I know I have a very diverse group of friends on social media, and I’m confident expressions of faith would draw the ire of at least a few of them or make them think I’m weird or different. I’m apparently not brave enough to own my faith in the face of a potential challenge. I’ve resolved to try to do better at the next opportunity, though I hope that next opportunity doesn’t involve me wrecking another Jeep. And I’m sorry I gave credit to my Jeep, not Jesus. |
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