Tuesday, July 12, 2011

The Wrong Tree

There I was, sitting on a bench with my music going and a good book out. I was minding my own business and contemplating moving since the sun was shifting and it was getting rather warm. Then what happens all too often happened to me once again. A man who probably had very good intentions came over and interrupted me to save my soul with a tract and some invasive questions. Little did he know that I was sitting there killing time before going to church.

I certainly could have told him so, though it wouldn't have gotten him to make himself scarce any sooner than I was able to without bringing that up. In fact, I'm fearful that revealing myself to be remotely receptive to his message would have bought me his unwanted presence for all the longer. Guys like that tend to rapidly turn new acquaintances against them, I would have to imagine (I might have said 'guys in that line of work', but I wonder whether that is a line of work in any sense that I understand).

Regardless of how efficacious it might have been to identify as having already been tapped by other bible thumpers, I preferred to flatly reject him out of principle for another reason. I don't care to get accosted by anyone for any reason, regardless of how good it might be. It would be sending a mixed message to give a fair hearing to any of them, or else the problem would be all the worse. I would like to think that the general look I've cultivated makes interlocutors think twice as it is, and it would be a shame to undermine that by failing to be curt and surly.

In truth though, I employed a cop out. When he asked why I couldn't go through his long list of probing questions answered by scripture, I avowed that I had to get going in a moment, but this was at best a half truth. I could have lingered for a good while longer, and very well might have so long as the heat remained bearable in the direct sunlight shining down on the bench. As it was, I quickly fled once the thumper relented, as I did not want him to see through my deceit. Thanks for ruining a bench, pal. Is that what Jesus would want?

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