The people at work have labeled me. My wife stopped by the branch the other day, and she was dressed in a peculiar way. They'd asked me before at the branch what religion I was, and I told them, unashamedly - I'm Apostolic. But when they saw my wife, they knew - I'm a Pentecostal.
See, I don't care that they know. I'm glad that they know. But most of all, I'm glad that they could take one look at my beautiful wife, and immediately know who she was.
I could have argued a doctrinal treatise for hours, and they wouldn't have known so clearly who I am. I could have defended the Oneness of God clearly, lovingly, and succinctly, and they would have only taken away from it that I study the Bible a lot. But when they saw Heidi, they knew - I was different.
So, now they keep asking me. Why do you dress that way? What do you really believe? Do you actually speak in tongues? A girl at work pulled me aside - "Will you pray for my daughter?"
Now I'm labeled. I'm a Pentecostal. I'm part of that group of skirt people. I speak in tongues. And when they have a need, they'll ask Brad. And I'm challenged, "Don't take this in vain." When I talk, will it be in a way that I want them to think of Pentecostals? When I respond under pressure, does it reflect the Holy Ghost working in my life? Their interactions with me will forever shape their sense of Pentecost.
I'm encouraged, because so far, they keep asking.