“Thin Places” on the Streets of Seattle

Last updated on: May 25, 2015 at 5:19 pm by Rebecca Florence Miller

“Thin Places” on the Streets of Seattle 2015-05-25T17:19:09-06:00 Rebecca Florence Miller

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This weekend in downtown Seattle, I forgot the most important thing about talking to angry people (especially strangers): they aren’t usually angry at me. They are angry because of the story that they’ve lived. If I can get to the story, I can get to the root of why they are so angry. Sometimes this can be done quickly, and sometimes it takes a long time.

My husband and I were on a tenth anniversary trip to Seattle last week. When we were verbally accosted by an angry, aggressive man while we walked down the street, I didn’t remember all this story business. My husband did though. And when he got to the story behind the anger, softening, respect, and progress in the conversation came about.

As we walked down the street, I saw three people standing and talking in a very animated fashion around a newspaper. I heard the black man in the group intensely asking whether homosexuals go to heaven. A young Latino woman wearing jeans torn wide around her knees left the debate and came to stand beside me at the crosswalk, waiting for the light to turn. “Why do I always end up with people like this?” she confided in exasperation.

“I didn’t hear much,” I said. “Some.” I wasn’t sure which side of the question the people were on, but given her exasperation, I was suspecting a less than grace-giving attitude on the part of the man.

Just then, the angry man came to stand in front of us. “If I ask you a question, will you answer it HONESTLY?” he challenged. I really didn’t want to talk to him. He was a big guy and kind of aggressive. I wanted to get away. I tried to get away. But he was tenacious.

He and the Latino woman were carrying 7 Eleven cups that appeared to contain some kind of alcohol.

“Do homosexuals go to heaven?” It’s one thing to answer that question on the internet, behind the safety of my keyboard. Another to try to answer a big, angry man who is in your face.

Yes, we said, we thought so.

Oh no, he told us, don’t you read the Bible? You’re not answering my question, he said.

We tried to drop in some nuance and explain what we believed as Christians.

You’re not answering my question. You’re still not answering my question, he said.

Man. Here on a public street corner, you want to confront two strangers and ask us to say that gay people are going to hell, just because they’re gay? You want it to be black and white. You want us to pass the judgment. No nuance.

Our answers were imperfect. We were nervous. We didn’t know what to do. We tried to walk away some more.

But he wouldn’t go away. You still didn’t answer my question.

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