저희는 매 주일 점심 도시락을 싸서 아침 7시에 교회로 갑니다.다들 무슨 바구니냐고 묻는데 대단한 것은 아니고 그냥 집에서 먹듯이 현미밥에다 생선 찌개나 조림이며 나물과 김치를 담고 간식과 후식으로 과일이 몇 개 있는 정도입니다. 목사님이 식사할 시간이 마땅치 않으니 2부 예배를 마치고 잠깐 쉬는 틈을 타서 점심식사를 합니다. 아침을 5시 반에 먹었으니 아직은 오전이지만 11 시 반에는 점심을 먹어야 됩니다. 12시에 시작하는 3부 예배를 위해서지요. 그 시간에 손님이라도 찾아오면 밥 먹는 시간이 부족하지만 우리 둘 다 이력이 나서 밥을 빨리 먹어 치우는 데는 어려움이 없지요.
밥을먹다 말고 생선토막을 나누어 놓고 남편이 묻습니다. 이 중에서 어느 것을 먹을 것인지 말입니다. 잽싸게 내가 대답을 합니다. “나는 안 먹고 싶은데요. 오늘은 물에 빠진 생선은 생각이 없네요.” 언젠가〈집으로〉라는 영화에서 주인공초등학교 5학년인 손자가 할머니가 해주신 닭백숙을 보고 “누가 닭을 물에 빠뜨리랬어?”라고 했던 말이 생각나서 한 말입니다. 어머님과 형님 그리고 남편은 물기가 있는 지진 생선을 좋아하십니다. 하지만 아주버님이나 저는 물기 없는 구운 생선을 좋아하지요. 그래서 되도록이면 두 가지 다 준비를 하려고 합니다.
스스럼없이 내뱉는 내 말에 남편이 기가 차서 멍하니 쳐다보면서 웃습니다. “아니, 어떻게 그렇게 생각도 안 해보고 안 먹겠다고 하나요? 뭘 믿고 그렇게 큰 소리를 치냐고?” “뭘 믿다니요? 내가 당신 안 믿으면 누굴 믿나요?” 그러자 남편이 의아해합니다. “나를 믿는다고? 안 먹는다고 해도 내가 줄 줄 믿나 보지?” 내가 웃으면서, 하지만 진지하게 답을 했습니다. “아니요, 내가 하고 싶은 말, 내 맘을 있는 그대로, 싫으면 싫다, 좋으면 좋다, 솔직하게 말해도 되는 사람, 당신이 함께 있어서 참 좋습니다. 내가 이 말을 하면 상대방이 힘들어할까? 아니면 어떤 반응을 보일까 그런 생각 안하고 그냥 있는 그대로 말해도 당신은 나를 받아주고 나무라지 않을 거라고 믿거든요.” 남편이 웃으며 그냥 고개를 끄덕입니다.
어려서부터 워낙에 교과서에다 내성적이고 소심한 성격인 나는 늘 말하는 것이 조심스러웠지요. 실수할까봐 조심하느라 제 때에 할 말을 못하고 마는 때가 많았습니다. 감정을 있는 그대로 표현하는 것도 서투르고 망설여져서 제대로 감정표현을 하지 못했지요. 싫어도 싫다는 말도 제대로 할 줄 모르고 화가 나도 그냥 참아버리고 말았던 것 같습니다. 그러다 보니 감정표현이 서툴 뿐만 아니라 아예 감정을 느끼는 것조차도 서툴러서 좋은지 나쁜지도 구분이 안 되는 것이지요.
하지만 주님을 만나면서 아니 주님께서 나를 찾아와 주셔서 내가 어떤 모습인지에 상관없이 나를 변함없이 사랑하신다는 것을 가르쳐 주셨습니다. 그리고 거룩하신 주님 앞에 서면서 내가 얼마나 죄악 가운데 있는 자인지도 가르쳐 주셨지요. 내가 나 될 수 있는 것은 주님 때문이었습니다. 그 전에는 겉으로는 안 그런 척 했지만 내가 잘난 줄로 생각했고 사람들에게 인정받고 싶었습니다. 그래서 나의 약점은 되도록 감추고 싶어 했지요. 그래야 내가 인정받고 사랑받는 사람이 되는 줄 알았으니까요.
주님 앞에서 내가 있는 모습 그대로 나아가는 것을 배우면서 사람들 앞에서 도 그럴 수 있는 용기가 조금씩 생겼습니다. 주님 다음으로 나를 사랑하는 남편과 함께 삼십팔 년을 살면서 이제는 있는 모습 그대로여도 편안한 사이가 되었습니다. 맥스 루케이도가 그랬던가요? ‘아침 여섯 시 반에 당신을 사랑하는 사람이라면 당신을 정말 사랑하는 사람입니다.’라고 말입니다. 자고 일어나서 세수도 하지 않고 머리도 빗지 않았지만 부끄러워할 필요가 없는 사람이 곁에 있어서 참 좋습니다.
Every Sunday morning at 7:00 AM, we head to church with a packed lunchbox. People often ask what is in the basket, but it is nothing fancy—just brown rice, fish stew or braised fish, seasoned greens, and kimchi, just like we eat at home, along with a few pieces of fruit for snacks and dessert. Since the pastor hardly has time to sit down for a meal, we eat during a brief pause right after the second service. We have breakfast at 5:30 in the morning, so even though it is still before noon, we have to eat lunch by 11:30 AM to prepare for the third service starting at noon. If a guest happens to drop by during that time, we are pressed for time, but both of us have grown accustomed to it over the years, so eating quickly poses no trouble at all.
In the middle of eating, my husband divides a piece of fish and asks me which portion I would like. Quick as a flash, I answer, “I don’t want any. Today, I really don’t feel like eating fish that has fallen into water.” I said this remembering a line from the movie The Way Home, where the fifth-grade grandson sees the boiled chicken his grandmother prepared and complains, “Who asked you to drown the chicken in water?” My mother-in-law, my sister-in-law, and my husband all love braised fish cooked in broth. But my brother-in-law and I prefer dry, pan-fried fish. That is why I try to prepare both whenever possible.
At my unreserved response, my husband looks at me dumbfounded and bursts into laughter. “Goodness, how can you declare you won't eat it without even a second thought? What makes you speak so boldly?” “What makes me? If I can’t trust you, who else could I trust?” Then he looks puzzled. “You trust me? Do you trust that I’ll give it to you even if you say you don’t want it?” Smiling, yet speaking with sincerity, I replied, “No, what I mean is that it is truly wonderful to have you by my side—someone with whom I can speak my mind openly, sharing my feelings just as they are, saying I don't like something if I don't, or that I like it if I do. I trust that you will accept me and not scold me, even if I speak freely without worrying whether my words will burden you or how you might react.” My husband simply smiles and nods.
Having been an introverted, timid person who lived by the book since childhood, I was always overly cautious with my words. Afraid of making mistakes, I often missed the right moment to speak. I was clumsy and hesitant in expressing my feelings honestly, so I rarely voiced my emotions properly. When I disliked something, I could not bring myself to say so, and whenever anger flared, I merely bottled it up. Consequently, not only did I struggle to express my feelings, but I also became numb to feeling them at all, unable to tell whether something felt good or bad.
Yet, through meeting the Lord—or rather, because the Lord came to find me—He taught me that He loves me steadfastly, regardless of who or how I am. Standing before the holy Lord, He also showed me just how deeply mired in sin I truly was. It was solely because of the Lord that I could truly become myself. Before that, even though I pretended otherwise on the outside, I thought highly of myself and craved human recognition. Thus, I tried hard to conceal my weaknesses, believing that hiding them was the only way to be loved and accepted.
As I learned to come before the Lord just as I am, I gradually found the courage to do the same before people. Living for thirty-eight years with my husband, who loves me second only to the Lord, ours has become a relationship where we are entirely comfortable being our authentic selves. Was it Max Lucado who said, “If someone loves you at 6:30 in the morning, they truly love you”? How wonderful it is to have someone beside me with whom I feel no shame, even when I have just woken up, unwashed, and with uncombed hair.
Elke Sondagoggend om 07:00 vertrek ons kerk toe met 'n kosblik vir middagete. Almal vra altyd wat in die mandjie is, maar dis niks buitengewoons nie—net bruinrys, visbredie of gesmoorde vis, groente en kimchi, nes ons by die huis eet, met 'n paar vrugte vir peuselhappies en nagereg. Aangesien die dominee beswaarlik tyd het om behoorlik te sit en eet, gebruik ons die kort blaaskans net ná die tweede erediens om middagete te geniet. Ons eet reeds om 05:30 ontbyt, so hoewel dit nog oggend is, moet ons teen 11:30 middagete eet ter voorbereiding vir die derde erediens wat om 12:00 begin. As 'n gas juis in daardie tyd opdaag, raak die tyd min, maar ons is albei oor die jare heen daaraan gewoond, so om vinnig klaar te eet is vir ons geen probleem nie.
Tydens die ete verdeel my man 'n stuk vis en vra my watter deel ek wil hê. Blitsvinnig antwoord ek: “Ek wil nie hê nie. Vandag is ek glad nie lus vir vis wat in die water geval het nie.” Ek het dit gesê omdat ek onthou het van 'n reël uit die fliek The Way Home, waar die kleinseun in graad 5 sy ouma se gekookte hoender sien en kla: “Wie het gesê jy moet die hoender in die water verdrink?” My skoonma, my skoonsuster en my man hou almal baie van gesmoorde vis met sous. Maar my swaer en ek verkies droë, gebraaide vis. Daarom probeer ek om albei voor te berei wanneer dit enigsins moontlik is.
Oor my openhartige antwoord kyk my man my verbaas aan en begin lag. “Nou maar hoe kan jy sommer so sonder om te dink sê jy wil nie hê nie? Waarop bou jy die vrymoedigheid om so te praat?” “Waarop? As ek jou nie kan vertrou nie, wie kan ek dan vertrou?” Toe lyk hy nuuskierig. “Vertrou jy my? Vertrou jy dat ek dit tog vir jou sal gee, al sê jy dat jy dit nie wil hê nie?” Ek het geglimlag, maar met opregte erns geantwoord: “Nee, ek bedoel dat dit so kosbaar is om jou aan my sy te hê—iemand by wie ek vrymoedig my hart kan uitstort net soos dit is, om eerlik te sê as ek van iets hou of nie hou nie. Ek vertrou dat jy my sal aanvaar en nie sal berispe nie, sonder dat ek hoef te wonder of my woorde jou sal beswaar of hoe jy gaan reageer.” My man het net glimlaggend sy kop geknik.
Aangesien ek van kleins af van nature baie teruggetrokke, skaam en pligsgetrou was, was ek altyd uiters versigtig met my woorde. Bang om foute te maak, het ek dikwels nagelaat om op die regte oomblik te praat. Ek was onbeholpe en huiwerig om my gevoelens opreg te toon, en kon myself dus selde werklik uitdruk. As ek van iets nie gehou het nie, kon ek dit nie sê nie, en as ek kwaad geword het, het ek dit maar net ingesluk. Gevolglik was ek nie net lomp daarmee om my gevoelens te verwoord nie, maar dit het selfs moeilik geword om dit werklik te ervaar, sodat ek skaars kon onderskei of iets goed of sleg gevoel het.
Maar toe ek die Here ontmoet het—of liewer, toe die Here my kom opsoek het—het Hy my geleer dat Hy my onvoorwaardelik liefhet, presies soos ek is. En toe ek voor die heilige Here te staan kom, het Hy my ook gewys hoe diep ek in sonde vasgevang was. Dit was slegs danksy die Here dat ek waarlik myself kon wees. Voorheen het ek, al het ek uiterlik anders voorgegee, myself as heel belangrik beskou en gesmag na erkenning van mense. Daarom wou ek my swakhede sover moontlik wegsteek, omdat ek gedink het dit was die enigste manier om aanvaar en bemind te word.
Soos wat ek geleer het om voor die Here te tree net soos ek is, het ek gaandeweg ook die moed gekry om dit voor mense te doen. Om agt-en-dertig jaar lank saam met my man te leef—wat my liefhet naas die Here—het ons verhouding een gemaak waarin ons heeltemal gemaklik kan wees net soos ons is. Was dit nie Max Lucado wat gesê het: ‘As iemand jou om halfsewe die oggend liefhet, het daardie persoon jou waarlik lief’ nie? Hoe wonderlik is dit tog om iemand aan jou sy te hê by wie jy jou nie hoef te skaam nie, selfs wanneer jy pas wakker geword het, nog ongewas en met ongekamde hare.