My students often broach awkward topics with me. One of those awkward topics that arose last week revolved around the visage I present to the world. One very young man pointed out abruptly and rudely, "You really don't care what people think about you, do you?" When I pressed why, he told me that my wardrobe was lousy. In my defense, my Sunday School class told me that I dress better than this guy does, but then again they only see me in a suit my parents bought me when I was 19, and they know this guy shops at Hollister. However, there are things that matter to young people, to women, to employers and to the world in general that don't matter to me. Some things do matter, and sometimes it does matter, but most of the time, I am doing what I like. As long as it's legal, ethical, and moral, you may do what you like too.
I care about utility. The student condescended on me because of the clothing I wear. I wear Wrangler Jeans, which is apparently very agrarian and passe, but it comes down to practicality for me. Many of the vogue trendy brands didn't exist when I was 16, and so I found a brand I liked at a price I can afford and then kept buying them. Same thing with my car. It runs, it's super cheap to operate, and it gets me from A to B. Most people buy things not for utility but to impress other people. As long as my clothes are clean and mended and fit, I wear what I like. I don't dress for you anyway. You've doubtless heard the adage "We spend money we don't have buying things we don't need to impress people we don't like". Superficial? Maybe, but so are the people judging you. If you're out to impress others, that's how you must spend. However, one of the girls in my Sunday School class spoke in church and admitted that she was unhappy living her life to please other people. I'm glad she realized that as early as she did. Most people don't seem to learn it for years if ever.
I care about company. All I really look for in friends and romance is someone who provides good conversation and treats me well. When the company is right, I do dress up to see the opera or the philharmonic, to attend a play or to teach the first few weeks of class. I always wear the best I have to church, not because it's required but because I care about Christ. Last year I realized that I will only invite people in if I really care about and value their company, and when I do I work to provide a comfortable and caring place and environment for them whilst in my presence. Since I don't let a conga line of people I don't know or don't like traverse my abode helter skelter, I don't usually worry about keeping my house in order "just in case someone important comes". I know God cares more about who I am than how I decorate, the disposition of my heart than the degree of grime in the bathtub, and with where I drive more than what.
I care about principles. My parents and grandparents instilled in me a fundamental understanding that what's inside matters much more than how things appear to be. I realize when I sit in church that many of the people appear to be happier or better matched than they truly are. People like to display the best parts of themselves and hide their skeletons in dark closets. Some of the teenagers I teach in Sunday School have ironically and surprisingly decided to open up about things and share things with me they may not have told their parents. When a student handed me a pink pen in class this week and asked if I was ok using one, I asked what color it wrote, and then told them not only did what was inside matter more but that I was secure enough in my masculinity to use a "pink" pen. I work very hard to BE a good person, to be me and consistently the same person in every group I happen to inhabit, and to be someone of character rather than everyone's favorite character. When I discover friends aren't doing things or being people with whom I want to associate, I don't cut them off, but I also don't invite them to my house or spend time with them engaged in things I find objectionable. I do not choose women based on their wardrobe, their cars, their jobs, or their paychecks unless they arrived at those things in an illegal or immoral way, and I don't discard friends for their wild hair, dilapidated dwellings, derelict vehicles, or any of that other rotgut.
When I care, I have the means to show. My late friend Tracie was surprised to see me in a suit for the first time and said I cleaned up well. When I go to church, on a date, to the first lectures of the year, I wear a nice suit and drive my Malibu so that I come across as professional and look presentable. It would not do well to dress like a vagabond or show up with sweat marks under my pits. I dress well for church things, not to impress God, but as a sign of respect for Him. He knows who I am on the inside, but I'm not going to demand that He accommodate my preferences. I don't care what you think if what you think is based on a superficial summation of external information. What you think of my decor, my wardrobe, and my car tells me more about you than those things tell you about me, particularly since I do them as a litmus test rather than because that's how I idealize life. The right people won't care about those things. The right woman won't care about my job, my paycheck, my wardrobe, my car, or my decor; she will care about character. She did, and I miss her for her company, for who she was. I do care. I care about different things than most people. Some day this student will probably realize I had a point. Older people agree with me. I wish the younger people would at least try to understand me.
No comments:
Post a Comment