In one of his many books, Frederick Buechner mentioned that his father, who was a young man in the early part of the 20th Century, bore a striking resemblance to a British actor. On numerous occasions, strangers approached the elder Buechner, thinking he was the actor, and asked for his autograph. According to Frederick, his father always happily complied – except he signed his own name.
Once, on a family summer vacation at Chautauqua, New York, when I was maybe 17 years old, my brother and I were throwing a baseball back and forth. He had a catcher’s mitt, and I wound up like a pitcher when I made my throws. I guess I was popping it pretty good, because after a while, some kids gathered to watch.
My brother told them I was Jay Franklin, a pitcher from our home area who was drafted number two in the country the prior summer and signed a big contract with the San Diego Padres. They got all excited, and when I ran into some of them later they asked their father for a pen so they could get my autograph. I heard the father ask, “What’s he doing here?” Indeed. When they came to me, I told them I wasn’t Jay Franklin and refused to sign their paper. They acted as if they didn’t believe me.
A case of mistaken identity can lead to misunderstandings. I’m sure the people who obtained the autograph of Frederick Buechner’s father were confused when they read what he wrote for them. Those kids at Chautauqua seemed to think I just was being uncooperative and unfriendly when I denied being the person my brother told them I was.
People sometimes are not able to correctly identify church folks, based on our words and behaviors. It turns out our witness to the depth and nature of our faith is made daily, whether or not that is our intention.