Not inconsequential

I hope people talk about me behind my back. I don’t mind if I make the dinner conversation agenda. If people are talking about me, at least I know I'm not inconsequential.

I was at a restaurant the other day eating a sandwich. The three ladies at the table beside me were having salads and their friends for lunch. Apparently their dining is a low-carb, high-gossip affair. I tried to ignore the stories of who is getting a beer gut, who is sleeping around, and who is more fashion challenged than them, but they were chewing with their mouths open. Honestly, I’m glad I don’t know them. I’m sure I’d end up on the menu eventually. I don’t want that kind of talk about me.

In years gone by, kids wore bell bottoms or parachute pants and aspired to be astronauts, firemen, and teachers. Ask kids born under the YouTube moon what they want to be when they grow up, and they will simply say “popular.” Paris Hilton-esuqe. Any publicity is good publicity, as long as you are in the news. I don’t want to be popular. I don’t want that kind of talk about me.

I'm not aspiring to be vicarious verbage for saladivores that are too fearful to live interesting lives of their own. I don’t need people to bring me up in conversation because my career involves oxygen tanks or water hoses. I don’t want to generate discussion by my sordid antics. I want people to talk about me because I’m not inconsequential.

I want to be relationally consequential in the lives of my friends. When my friends sit down to eat, I hope my name comes up. I hope they say, “Steve called today.” Or, “We all had a great time. Steve and his family were there, too.” Or even, “Man, Steve told the dumbest joke today.” I hope you find value in the interaction of our lives, and that in some way I communicate how valuable you are to me as a friend. I hope that over time God leverages my life to make an impression on you that doesn’t fade as the next moment overruns the moment we shared. If you’re talking about me, at least I know I’m not inconsequential.