resolution… . See, Steven, this whole resolving-life-issues
stuff is not like solving problems at work, is it?”
She waits for a response.
The answer is “No, it’s not.” She reaches over and pats my hand. “Stay with me here, dear.”
We both laugh. How does she do that without making me feeling patronized?
“The solution,” she continues, “isn’t in getting more information. The solution isn’t in getting others to see things your
way or even in bringing more diligence to solve it. Now, are you ready, my dear? I’m about to say something harsh, but I don’t
mean it to be as rude as it will sound.
“The problem is you’re a highly trained, intelligent, and successful professional, but when it comes to your personal life,
you’re a real amateur human being. Honey, you’re as blind as a bat when it comes to you.”
I laugh out loud. “You weren’t kidding about the harsh-sounding part, were you? Cynthia, you blow me away. You’re like this
artsy lady about to show me pictures of her grandchildren. But I gotta tell you, my mother never says things like this to
me.”
“Honey, you should ask her,” she says, laughing. “Maybe she’d like to!” She leans forward again. “Steven, do you want to know
why you are clueless about you? Do you?” She stops again and stares. “Honey, I really need a verbal nod of some sort here.”
“Yes,” I say. “Yes, tell me why.”
“It’s because,” she says slowly and dramatically, “you don’t yet know who you really are. And Steven, you don’t know who you
are because you haven’t yet learned grace.”
I stop her before she can continue. “Oh, boy. See, there you go. That’s all gibberish to me. I don’t want to be mean, but
you and Carlos, you sound like cult members.
Grace.
Do you have any idea what that sounds like? It’s right up there with fluffy bunnies and unicorns. You’re aware there’s not
a lot of grace talk in my board meetings. Look, I know you may not understand this, but in places where things get done, there’s
accountability, and quotas, and deadlines. You know what I think God wants? He wants all of us to take responsibility for
what we’re doing. Sorry, Cynthia. I was tracking with you. But if you wanna make sense to me, throw away the religious buzzwords.”
Andy slaps his knee. “Whoo-eee! Yep, you got her there, Steven.” He picks up his glass, swirling his ice. “Yep, first you
start talking about grace. Next thing you know you’re skipping Sunday school and sleeping in till noon. Then, a couple days
later you’re down at the dog track, drinking whiskey out of a paper bag and dating a showgirl named Tiffany!”
“Why do you enjoy making everything I say sound stupid?” I ask.
“I don’t,” he says. “I only enjoy making the stupid things you say sound stupid.”
Cynthia takes over. “Steven, my friend, would you be offended if I told you that you sound to me like the one with the religious
platitudes?”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning,” she continues, “you sound like the one who’s using religious concepts, and promoting them to others when they haven’t
even worked for yourself.”
“Meaning?” I repeat.
“Meaning, grace is a gift only the nonreligious can accept. They’re the only ones who can get it. They’re the only ones who
can use it. Religious folks see grace as
soft
. So they keep trying to manage their junk with their own willpower and tenacity. Nothing defines religion quite as well as
a bunch of people trying to do impossible tasks with limited power while bluffing to themselves that it’s working.”
She leans even closer. “I just took in a lot of churches and religious institutions with that last statement.”
“Did you hear that?” Andy laughs. “So, who’s the religious one now, my friend?”
Cynthia smiles. “It takes a whole lot more than willpower to get anything done in the human heart. You gotta allow yourself
to receive
stuff is not like solving problems at work, is it?”
She waits for a response.
The answer is “No, it’s not.” She reaches over and pats my hand. “Stay with me here, dear.”
We both laugh. How does she do that without making me feeling patronized?
“The solution,” she continues, “isn’t in getting more information. The solution isn’t in getting others to see things your
way or even in bringing more diligence to solve it. Now, are you ready, my dear? I’m about to say something harsh, but I don’t
mean it to be as rude as it will sound.
“The problem is you’re a highly trained, intelligent, and successful professional, but when it comes to your personal life,
you’re a real amateur human being. Honey, you’re as blind as a bat when it comes to you.”
I laugh out loud. “You weren’t kidding about the harsh-sounding part, were you? Cynthia, you blow me away. You’re like this
artsy lady about to show me pictures of her grandchildren. But I gotta tell you, my mother never says things like this to
me.”
“Honey, you should ask her,” she says, laughing. “Maybe she’d like to!” She leans forward again. “Steven, do you want to know
why you are clueless about you? Do you?” She stops again and stares. “Honey, I really need a verbal nod of some sort here.”
“Yes,” I say. “Yes, tell me why.”
“It’s because,” she says slowly and dramatically, “you don’t yet know who you really are. And Steven, you don’t know who you
are because you haven’t yet learned grace.”
I stop her before she can continue. “Oh, boy. See, there you go. That’s all gibberish to me. I don’t want to be mean, but
you and Carlos, you sound like cult members.
Grace.
Do you have any idea what that sounds like? It’s right up there with fluffy bunnies and unicorns. You’re aware there’s not
a lot of grace talk in my board meetings. Look, I know you may not understand this, but in places where things get done, there’s
accountability, and quotas, and deadlines. You know what I think God wants? He wants all of us to take responsibility for
what we’re doing. Sorry, Cynthia. I was tracking with you. But if you wanna make sense to me, throw away the religious buzzwords.”
Andy slaps his knee. “Whoo-eee! Yep, you got her there, Steven.” He picks up his glass, swirling his ice. “Yep, first you
start talking about grace. Next thing you know you’re skipping Sunday school and sleeping in till noon. Then, a couple days
later you’re down at the dog track, drinking whiskey out of a paper bag and dating a showgirl named Tiffany!”
“Why do you enjoy making everything I say sound stupid?” I ask.
“I don’t,” he says. “I only enjoy making the stupid things you say sound stupid.”
Cynthia takes over. “Steven, my friend, would you be offended if I told you that you sound to me like the one with the religious
platitudes?”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning,” she continues, “you sound like the one who’s using religious concepts, and promoting them to others when they haven’t
even worked for yourself.”
“Meaning?” I repeat.
“Meaning, grace is a gift only the nonreligious can accept. They’re the only ones who can get it. They’re the only ones who
can use it. Religious folks see grace as
soft
. So they keep trying to manage their junk with their own willpower and tenacity. Nothing defines religion quite as well as
a bunch of people trying to do impossible tasks with limited power while bluffing to themselves that it’s working.”
She leans even closer. “I just took in a lot of churches and religious institutions with that last statement.”
“Did you hear that?” Andy laughs. “So, who’s the religious one now, my friend?”
Cynthia smiles. “It takes a whole lot more than willpower to get anything done in the human heart. You gotta allow yourself
to receive
Similar Books
