At church a couple weekends ago we looked at Luke 15. It's the story of the prodigal son and even for those who don't believe it's familiar. Our pastor began by saying that to truly understand all the layers and context we would have to wipe the slate clean and forget everything we thought we knew about it.
And that got me thinking.
How much of what I "know" about my faith has been taken from popular opinion? I listen to a fair amount of Christian music, read a fair amount of Christian literature, have more than a fair amount of Christian friends; so what percentage of the information I retain is coming from third-party sources? And seeing as how Christ has been dead for a couple thousand years and isn't available to meet me at Xtreme Bean for a chat, is it even possible to get counsel straight from the horse's mouth?
Sola scriptura is the belief that no interpretation of scripture is to be placed above scripture itself. It's considered one of the foundational ideals that the Reformation stands upon and while it by no means negates the validity or importance of theological critique and reflection, it holds scripture as the Be All, End All. Martin Luther said, "The true rule is this: God's Word shall establish articles of faith, and no one else, not even an angel can do so."
My mother is devout to the point of exasperation but she underestimates her own ability to break down what she reads in her Bible each night. As a result, she turns to Joyce Meyer, Charles Stanley, Gregory Dictow and Joel Osteen as conduits. During our weekly nosh sessions at Einstein's, she'll rarely quote scripture but usually has some nugget of wisdom from one of the above mentioned.
I'm a Brennan Manning fangirl and C.S. Lewis gives me a theological hard-on, so I have no room to talk when it comes down to the veneration of mere mortals. But here's where I'm finding pause lately:
Fundamentally it all comes down to Jesus, right? Any respected theologian or apologist of the faith is going to agree that the bare bones of belief is the Man Himself. All of the people admired for their wisdom are using Christ as a standard of measurement. He's what they strive for and all their messages and books and songs are an effort to relate how they've gotten closer to that goal.
I had a professor while in Bible college that often lamented how easy it was to make a Christ-follower into a Billy Graham-follower or a John MacArthur-follower. Rich Mullins said it saddened him that so many people knew all the words to his songs but couldn't recite much more than John 3:16. And I'm about as guilty as one can be of this. It wasn't until eight or nine months ago that I actually put much thought or time into my Bible reading but I had a 'Mere Christianity' or 'Ragamuffin Gospel' quote sitting in queue on the off chance that the situation called for it.
The thing is, Jesus didn't have anything other than the Tanakh to reference (well, and, of course Himself b/c He's God incarnate, but that's beside the point). No KLove, no podcasts, no 'Purpose Driven Life'. All the "filters" we have and inadvertently use when viewing the world around us weren't an issue for Him.
I think we're a well-meaning group for the most part but I know my own perspective can be unintentionally convoluted. I don't ask myself what Christ would do in a given situation generally but I will rifle through the mental notes I took while reading 'The Journey of Desire'. And while that isn't bad, per se, it's adding an unnecessary step between my heart and God's. And while it is better than asking, "Well, what would Jenna Jameson do if she were here?", what's the point in aspiring toward the standard of another human when said human himself is aspiring toward the standard of something greater?
Rather than shaking a finger at the sources, however, I've got to turn this inward. I want to discard all the influences that muddy my chances to Love as Jesus did, at least temporarily. I don't want my decision as to whether or not I spend a Saturday night at a bar in Old Town to be based on my church's stance. Or Charles Stanley's. Or Billy Graham's. I'm not saying I'll just use my own judgment (because we all know how that would turn out) but instead taking a good look at from whence my plumb line falls.
I don't honestly know what this will look like when practically applied to life but I want to take an earnest shot at trying to strip away all the unnecessary perspectives that've been added by well-intentioned followers. No church service? No Bible reading? Maybe just the Old Testament? No clue. But I'm hoping to have a better idea come 2010 because I intend to take this baby out for a test drive in January.
I hope I don't wind up running it into a ditch.
My faith needs a 'Restart' button
Unconditional Love
I am, for the most part, incapable of holding a grudge. A friend recently told me it was a Godly quality to have and that he was impressed.
"Don't be," I told him, "it's not by choice."
When I've been purposely abused and taken advantage of, when someone decided to do something hurtful knowing I'd forgive them later, those are the times when I'd give almost anything to be able to say, "Go fuck yourself," and mean it.
"It's weakness," the world says. Even in the church it's hard to find someone who'll be supportive of the decision to reopen your heart to someone who's hurt you.
And should they? For as much as I strive toward unconditional love it's still hard for me to encourage it in others. And, more often than not, I think it the "wrong" choice when I see someone else "turn the other cheek". Most of the time it's assumed that the only reason is some defect in the forgiving party - he/she isn't strong enough to let go or they're afraid to break out of a comfortable pattern. Forgiveness, acceptance, they're all things that we're supposed to pursue but how am I supposed to urge others to put their hearts on the line when the odds are 100 to 1 that they'll wind up hurt? And after they're burned as a consequence, how can I find fault if they say, "To hell with it," and turn their back?
Right now, without any pain or anger or fresh wounds, I'm not bothered by my tendency to be seen as a doormat. It's not something I've worked at or chose, but I know that this weird malfunction I've been given that allows me to wipe the past clean is necessary for any hope or optimism to survive in me. I can accept it without much pride because I know it's caused me much grief in the past and is only likely to do so in the future. I can't see it as something to brag about.
It's sad then to realize that I take any grace I've been shown by God for granted on a regular basis. I know how much it hurts me even now to think about it and I know how much I've cursed it. How much more grateful and humbled should I be knowing what I know about His acceptance and forgiveness?
No, this isn't anything to be proud of.
Over my head
My mother and I have great discussions that generally take place during our weekly Sunday lunches at Einstein's. Last month I finished reading the entire Bible for the first time and that's subsequently become our newest hot-button issue. She's a big fan of Joyce Meyer, Joel Osteen and Charles Stanley and can often be heard saying, "Last night Joyce Meyer was talking about..." or "That reminds me of something I heard on Gregory Dickow!" Let me say upfront that I have nothing against any of the above or the ministries they head. And to be fair, it's not exactly rare for me to blather on about what C.S. Lewis or Rich Mullins or Brennan Manning have to say on a particular topic. Those evangelists have their place and I'm thankful there's a means to reach such a wide audience. I suggested not long ago that perhaps my mother relied too heavily on their interpretation of the gospel rather than searching for answers herself. Her response was simply, "I don't think I'm smart enough to understand the Bible on my own." I couldn't last in Bible college with the apologetes and theologians, so I know what it's like to be overwhelmed by the intense philosophy that comes out of scripture and feel less than capable, especially when you're around those who easily hold their own.
My New Testament professor used to say he feared that popular evangelists were becoming a crutch for modern-day believers and even taking the place of Christ in some cases. "If Jesus knocked on their door tomorrow, I think a lot of them would wave and then turn back to Billy Graham for their spiritual nourishment."
If God's given these people the ability to communicate His will at points where we otherwise might not understand, at what point does it stop being supplemental and simply become fundamental?
The Digested Bible: Genesis
(In an effort to digest more of what I read whilst Bibling, I'm going to attempt to condense each book into bite-sized portions in the hopes that it'll be easier for me to remember its particular themes. It's also my intention to avoid offending or mocking - however, I learn best with humor, so please keep that in mind.)
Background: Uuuuh, the whole book is "background".
In the beginning, God was... lonely. So He did some creative thinking and creatively thought the world into being.
Now, everyone agreed that was pretty awesome but it didn't alleviate the loneliess. So He took it one further and put together what He called "man". Everyone agreed that was even awesomer. Then? Nap time.
Duly noting that loneliness is depressing, God reworked the early model and created "woman" (...perhaps an improvement on the first draft?). If being alone was "not good," then being together was... trouble. Rule-breaking was all the rage in Eden at the time apparently and Adam and Eve (woman) were soon wearing the latest in the Spring 00000000 BC Foliage.
Chagrined and saddened, God punted them out of the garden for their own good.
(Genesis 1-3)
A&E had nothing much to do in those days which, as it often does, lead to babies.... Which lead to more babies. And more babies... and still more babies. Then some serious debauchery. More babies. More debauchery. And then, Noah.
(Genesis 4-5)
Not pleased at all with the orgiastic tendencies, God decided to reboot and restart. But before the great Ctrl+Alt+Delete, He had Noah (the "prude") build a big-ass boat to save all the animals who weren't too busy fornicating to show a little gratitude. Rocks rain fell, everyone died. And Noah enjoyed himself for another 350 years, repopulating the earth.
(Genesis 6-11)
More babies, more babies, more babies and then Abram, who God took a shine to, promising him land and more babies than you could shake a stick at. Abram and his smokin hot (but barren) wife, Sarai, traveled on with Lot, his nephew, & Co., causing a ruckus pretty much everywhere they went. Pharoah fell for Sarai, Sodom & Gomorrah were destroyed, Lot's wife turned into a pillar of salt... typical shenanigans. God eventually sat Abram down and said, "Look, I want to bless you - A LOT. Have babies. A LOT of babies."
Sarai was pretty skeptical, so she did what any logical woman would do - send her maidservant to do the birthing for her (duh). Not pleased, God clarified that, no, really, Sarai would have a baby and from the kid would many (many, many, many, many, many, many, many)more kids spring forth. And because He's God, it happened. Sarai was, I assume, pretty embarrassed.
(Genesis 12-21)
Not totally certain of Abraham (the Artist Formerly Known as Abram)'s loyalty, God tells him to sacrifice his son, Isaac, then is all "Lulz, jk jk jk jk!"; Sarah (formerly Sarai) dies; Isaac falls in love with Rebekah; and though he takes another wife, Abraham soon dies too.
(Genesis 22-25)
Following in his father's footsteps, Isaac winds up causing a lot of trouble while still managing to do quite a lot right. When he feels the stink of death creeping in, he tries to bless his son Esau but Jacob, the other son, ain't having none of that. Esau's (rightfully) pee-ohed and while he's busy shaking his fist, Jacob flees. It ain't all bad, though, as he falls hard and fast for Rachel and winds up getting Leah as a bonus second wife (score!). Par for the course, though, he tricks his father-in-law, Laban, into giving him most of his stuff. Laban's (rightfully) pee-ohed and while he's busy shaking his fist, Jacob flees.
(Genesis 26-31)
When his conscience finally catches up with him, Jacob shamefacedly returns to his brother but only after he wrestles with God, gets a new name (Israel) and lives to tell about it. Esau and Jacob reunite, weep like little girls and bury the hatchet.
Trouble doesn't end there though. Jacob's daughter gets raped and, as punishment, her brothers decide to do a little retalitory circumcision... on the entire town.
And then kill them.
(Genesis 32-34)
Isaac and Rachel die. Esau and Jacob have babies. And then they have more babies. And then their babies have babies. And then, Joseph.
There seems to be a pattern in Abraham's lineage - they all have a knack for getting into trouble. Joseph somehow manages to get his father's favor... and then get sold into slavery by his jealous brothers. And although he becomes a pretty hoity-toity servant for Pharoah, he still somehow gets himself thrown in prison for not sleeping with Pharoah's wife.
(Genesis 35-39)
But like his father's before him, Joseph finds a way to become Mr. Popularity even in jail. His reputation precedes him and it isn't long before he's schmoozing with Pharoah again and pretty much running the place.
His brothers, on the other hand, weren't doing so hot. Suffering from the famine and drought, Dad sent them to Egypt to get provisions. Joseph gets his revenge with fraudulant charges of robbery before saying, "Lulz, jk jk jk jk! It's me, the brother you shoved in a hole and then sold! No hard feelings?"
And then all become roomies until Joseph dies.
(Genesis 40-50)
The Digested Bible: Judges
(In an effort to digest more of what I read whilst Bibling, I'm going to attempt to condense each book into bite-sized portions in the hopes that it'll be easier for me to remember its particular themes. It's also my intention to avoid offending or mocking - however, I learn best with humor, so please keep that in mind.)
Some background: The book of Judges in the Old Testament comes between Joshua and 1 Samuel. In it are the lol, pitfalls exploits of, oddly enough, the judges of Israel. These were men (...and Deborah), usually elders, chosen by Moses to alleviate the burden he alone bore in leading the people (Exodus 18:13-26).
In Canaan, the people are represented by two separate yet equally important groups: the priests, who enforce the Mitzvot, and the judges, who topple the temple you're standing under if you piss them off prosecute the offenders. These are their stories.
Joshua's, like, dead and the people want to know what's next.
Canaan, that's what!
Judah (and side-kick Simeon) kung-fu their way back into the promised land, taking several thumbs and big toes for good measure. And the people rejoice.
Forty or so years pass and the people are all, "Yahweh who?" So God, in turn, chooses to smack them around a bit help them "remember"... with a sword or two (or ten thousand) and several flawed judges:
Othniel held 40 years of peace (hurray!); then, he died (boo).
Ehud, famous lefty, doubled that to another 80 years, after pulling a Troy on King Elgon of Moab ("I got a message for you." "Awesome!" "But it's a secret; kick your underlings out." "Gotcha." *STAB!* *INTESTINES, PUNCTURE!* *BOWELS, EMPTY!* "Fatality!").
Deborah, the bad-ass, solitary female judge.
Gideon had the balls to test God. Twice.
Samson liked the ladies... and then went blind.
...and the rest!
Conversations with my Creator: part 4
ME: So I've been doing some research...
GOD: Alright.
ME: And I think I've figured out why You do what You do.
GOD: Really?
ME: Yeah. It took quite a bit of effort and energy and blood, sweat, tears, etc., etc., but I'm pretty sure I've got You pegged.
GOD: Huh. Well, kudos! What do you plan on doing with this information?
ME: Well, now that I KNOW, I figure I can make some more concrete plans. I mean, since I've cracked Your code and subsequently solved the equation You use for running things, I can apply it to everyday living.
GOD: You're aware that a lot of people have tried that before, right?
ME: Yup.
GOD: And you think you got it right where they hadn't?
ME: Yes.
GOD: And you're also aware of the fact that the whole basis of My being, you know, GOD, is My unknowable, incomprehensible, impenetrable, all-encompassing sovereignty?
ME: Sure am.
GOD: OK. Just checking.
ME: I'll talk to You later. I'm gonna go try to ride this thing.
GOD: Good luck!
~20 MINUTES LATER~
ME: OK, what was that all about?
GOD: Hm?
ME: Don't play coy with me! None of that fit into the equation ANYWHERE!
GOD: I never said it would.
ME: Did I forget to carry the one or transpose a number or four?
GOD: No. You had a sound argument; it definitely seemed to make sense. I can see why you followed it.
ME: But it didn't work!
GOD: Again, I never claimed that it would. You made the assumption.
ME: Alright then. I'm going to try this again. This time, I'll have You check my work.
GOD: OK.
~2 MONTHS LATER~
ME: OK. OK, THIS time I got it.
GOD: Again, it looks feasible.
ME: So I'm right?
GOD: No.
ME: How does that even make sense?
GOD: What do you mean?
ME: If it's so logical that You can understand why I'd use it, how can it be wrong?
GOD: It's not "wrong". Not in the sense you mean, at least.
ME: Um, what?
GOD: You don't know everything.
ME: Right.
GOD: I do.
ME: Thanks. Rub it in.
GOD: How can you expect to figure this whole Life thing out when you have no clue what's coming down the pike? You can apply reasons and logic to the past because it's static; it won't move. But as far as YOU know, the future has a gabjillion possibilities, each as likely as the next.
ME: "A gabjillion," huh?
GOD: Yes. It's a new number; I just made it up. I can do that. Because I'm God.
ME: So you keep reminding me.
GOD: Because you keep forgetting.
ME: So what, I'm just supposed to stop trying to figure out what's going to happen and just, like... let it happen?
GOD: Yes.
ME: How in tarnation am I supposed to do that?
GOD: By trusting Me. Uh duh.
ME: Guh! Why does it always come back to THAT?! I suck at that!
Freddie
Life, to me, feels like one big ocean. One day we’re tossed in, alone for the most part, and expected to keep our head above water – yet no one has clear instructions how to do so. Our parents are supposed to teach us the basics but when your mother is a Meth addict, who’s barely treading water herself, you learn to grab a hold of anything that’ll keep you afloat.
Without my mother available to guide my strokes, I was left to my father and two brothers. Before long I began looking for the intimacy my heart was starved of in the arms (and bodies) of others. In them I’d hoped I’d find a life-preserver I could cling to when the ocean’s waves got too turbulent but every single time I’d grab hold of someone new I found they, too, were unstable and sinking just as fast.
After three years of struggling just to breathe, I moved from Montana to Arizona at the invitation of my older brother. It was here that I heard about the God who’d been searching for me and for the first time I broke the surface. I accepted Christ as life-saver and it was then that my ocean’s waves stopped being merely choppy and became a merciless hurricane.
Winter found me pregnant as the gale-force winds of the storm battled against the love of my Savior. I wrestled the tide alone but after eighteen years I couldn't hold myself above water any longer. On December 24th, 2005, I had an abortion.
Three years passed as I let myself drown and each swell in the current hurled me farther and farther away from security. Another pregnancy, a miscarriage, a suicide attempt by overdose, two STD's from different guys... each pull of the tide was relentless in its violence. I thought that in giving in I would find peace but the desire to live was too strong even amidst such a beating. With each breath I deprived myself of the cry from my soul grew louder. Trying to keep my own head above the surface had proved futile yet I discovered that succumbing to the ebb and flow of the sea was far more painful than fighting it. I was dying for Life but began to realize I wasn’t capable of sustaining it if all I had to rely on was my own strength.
It was then I remembered the life-preserver I’d accepted – and then ignored – all those years ago. I’d been struggling to fill myself; to satisfy myself; to save myself. But it was never enough. Through it all, though, salvation was calling; over the roar of the wind and the crashing of the waves, it asked why I was turning from the only One who could rescue me. This time when I surrendered, it wasn’t to myself and it wasn’t to the deep – it was to my Savior.
As my heart has healed, it's grown. I've found a passion for the God that loves me recklessly blossoming more and more each day and I've decided that Christ didn’t kinda die for me, so I wasn’t going to kinda live for Him. He gave me everything and I want to give it all back.
I know what it’s like to drown in the ocean of life. And now I know what it’s like to breathe.
(This is the true story of a friend, written for Central Christian Church and it's with her permission that I post it here. Stories like hers should be shouted from the rooftops. Our God truly is incredible.)
10 Things: Everyone will let you down
10 Things I Wish I'd Known When I Was A Teenager
Everyone will let you down
(Disappointment is what humans do best)
“Sometimes the measure of friendship isn't your ability to not harm but your capacity to forgive the things done to you and ask forgiveness for your own mistakes.” (Randy K. Milholland, Something Positive Comic)
“For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” (Romans 3:23)
In the early 2000’s MTV had a popular show called Jackass that my sister was a fan of. The premise was fairly straightforward. Every week, half a dozen college-aged gentlemen would beat the snot out of themselves and each other in the oddest ways possible purely for the entertainment of millions.
Steve-O (Stephen Glover) is one of the performers that arose out of the infamy created by Jackass, most notable for swallowing and then puking up a goldfish as well as kicking an unholy number of excited young men in the nards. Along with the rest of the cast, he became a kind of anti-hero for a new generation of kids to whom corporate America and nine-to-five cubicle dwelling didn’t appeal. Here was a guy who made a living – and a good one at that – doing what every twelve to twenty-two year old guy did in his basement, garage or Circle K parking lot. For a half-hour every week, Johnny Knoxville, Bam Margera, Steve-O & Co tested homemade human slingshots, pierced butt cheeks together and wrestled alligators while I frequently found myself wondering, “…are they on something?”
As it turns out, they were. Or Steve-O was at least.
May of 2009 premiered Steve-O: Demise and Rise, a candid look at the life he lived when the Jackass cameras weren’t rolling. Steve-O documented his own day-to-day activities, including the voluminous consumption of drugs like nitrous oxide, cocaine, amphetamines and alcohol (just to name a few), the frequent run-ins with the law and the eventual intervention Knoxville led after Steve-O threatened suicide with the disturbing declaration, “I’m ready to fucking die.”
What followed was a 14-day stint that started at Cedars-Sinai for observation and culminated in a transfer to rehab. Now more than thirteen months clean and sober, Steve-O is taking a possibly humiliating (and definitely humbling) path by broadcasting his coked-out, drunken shenanigans in an hour-long documentary that pulls no punches. “The abusive behavior that I feel will haunt me for the rest of my life can be summed up by the words "verbal and emotional attacks on my loved ones,”” he wrote in a blog post while still in the hospital last year. “At this point in my life I find myself hoping that I will be able to forgive myself for similarly selfish acts that my own addiction led me to commit.”
I don’t think many people would have ever set Steve-O or Johnny Knoxville or any of the other members of the Jackass cast up as role-models – at least not many adults. I know plenty of teenagers and college students who touted the show as an inspiration to their weekend activities and held it as an example to emulate, many times with painful results. Steve-O has even admitted to not being an ideal figure to follow, especially now that the truth is out about his problems. He messed up and he knows it and unlike most busted celebrities who wind up caught with their hands in the cookie jar, he’s admitting he did a lot of damage to himself and those he loves – willingly. And while I still can’t watch the show, I have an immense amount of respect for him and the rest of the Jackass crew. Major fuck-ups are a malady that strikes everyone; because of the fall, none are immune. But they aren’t what define us. The greatest test of our human and spiritual mettle comes when we have to make a decision about how we’ll respond when mistakes are made by us and to us.
Failure: The Great Equalizer
I’m going to admit something that I found shocking, even unbelievable, when it was first brought to my attention:
I’m not perfect.
Now take a moment and let that simmer for a bit before you say anything. I’d guess that on some level everyone believes they know what they’re doing all the time but it becomes the most pronounced between the ages of 13 and 20. There’s a kind of naïve arrogance that’s nourished by hormones and reluctant to acknowledge the existence of anything other than sex, grades, friends, music and money. Most are self-aware enough to refrain from saying it out loud but somewhere buried deep, there’s a smug little voice repeating, “Yeah, I know” over and over and over again.
This is one of the juicy nuggets I’ve come to terms with in the past seven years that I doubt would have made any difference had someone slapped me upside the head with it whilst I was a young lass. I don’t know how or when I came to such a disappointing conclusion; it seems to have been gradual rather than instantaneous. And while it cracked the very foundation my world was built on, my world itself didn’t crumble along with it. Of course I had no idea I’d been so self-absorbed until, suddenly, inexplicably, I wasn’t anymore. While I could comfort myself with the fact that I no longer had my head up my ass, I also had to face the reality that I’d been a self-righteous turd for a very long time.
Luckily, I’m in some good company. History is littered with self-righteous turds who made some seriously awful decisions and still wound up as fan favorites.
Samson: Meathead listens to his loins and not God
The period in Israel’s past that precedes the reign of the kings is documented in the book of Judges. In it, God chose several men to be judges (hence the name) prior to getting an official monarchy, one of whom was Samson.
An angel of the Lord gives Manoah, Samson’s pappy, the heads-up that his wife will be birthing a son who’s to be set aside for God. The boy grows up to be quite the drama queen (after taking down a thousand men he whines, “You have given your servant this great victory. Must I now die of thirst and fall into the hands of the uncircumcised?”) and finds his way into a lot of troubling situations that follow a simple pattern – weakness toward the lady bits.
Samson’s impressive (and superhuman) strength becomes a source of tension among the neighboring Philistines but he manages to evade their earliest attempts at defeating him, only pissing them off further. But after witnessing his soft spot for the fairer sex (or, rather, sex in general), they throw a bombshell named Delilah in his path and poor Sammy’s brain goes soft (while more southern regions become noticeably less so). He succeeds in craftily thwarting his double-agent lover a couple of times before she finally weasels the pertinent information out of him – namely, the source of his strength – and uses it to make him “weak as any other man”.
David: Chosen king listens to his loins and not God
Most remembered for the defeat of Goliath while still an awkward kid, David also wrote some of the most passionate and beautiful psalms in the Bible, hinting at an intense and intimate relationship with his Creator. When hand-picked to succeed Saul as king, Samuel even calls him “a man after God’s own heart”.
So it’s totally understandable that this righteous and God-fearing ruler spent his free time as a leering creeper. And honestly, who wouldn’t plot to murder the husband of the woman they impregnated? After all, it’s not adultery if she isn’t married and she can’t be married if she’s widowed after her husband is slaughtered on the battlefield. No harm, no foul.
Peter: First head of Christ’s church pusses out at the worst possible moment
Everyone knows someone like Peter: excitable, eager to please and willing to commit to something – anything – before having all the facts. These are the kids who wind up in the hospital after someone suggests trying to parachute off the roof with a bed sheet or seeing how many Barbie shoes would fit up one nostril.
Peter’s the disciple who scampers out of boat to follow Jesus’ steps on the water and promptly begins sinking. He also argues with Jesus only to wind up with the unfortunate nickname “Satan”. While enthusiastic in his devotion, his track record is already pretty pathetic when Passover begins and he’s told he’s going to deny Christ not once but three times in the span of less than 24 hours. And surprisingly this foresight does nothing to hold his tongue when the time comes.
But hey, at least he’s not Judas.
Michelle: Naïve twenty-two year old listens to her loins and not God
I’ve already given you the low-down on Dave and the bitch-slapping God gave me during the fiasco. What I haven’t talked about, however, are the consequences of my selfishness and the effects it had on my relationships, namely with two people I cared very much about.
While the decision to engage in some pre-marital nookie was mine alone to make, that doesn’t mean it didn’t affect those close to me. I mentioned that just a few months prior to the hookup I’d been in my first long-term serious relationship. The guy was (and still is) a phenomenal person and played a major role in making me who I am today. We didn’t split out of anger, so I didn’t put a pox on his house or burn all his pictures once we broke up; there wasn’t and never has been any animosity harbored on my end.
So why did I feel the need to broadcast my sexy antics where I knew he was likely to see them? I justified the unnecessary TMI by saying that I wasn’t doing anything wrong – we weren’t together and I was free to do whatever I wanted, with whomever I wanted. Which is true; it’s just not very nice. Some insecure part of my brain felt compelled to testify that I wasn’t doing anything wrong or going against my personal beliefs. So what if I was a free agent – I hurt someone dear to me. And that makes me a pretty heartless bitch.
Everyone else: (insert witty clipping here)
Does any of this sound familiar? When was the last time one of your posse talked smack about you behind your back? When did your father choose the NBA finals over Tuesday Night Tacos? Has your boyfriend ever ditched you for XBox just after your dog died from drinking anti-freeze?
I could tell you a bazillion stories of things I’ve done, had done to me or heard about being done. As quote above, Paul’s pretty clear in Romans who among us sucks: everyone. Whether it’s porn or gossip or cheating or murder, we’ve all got something going against us in the race for the purity crown. Left to our own devices, we’re all losers.
Alright, we’re all doucherockets. What now?
I’m not trying to depress you. My goal is not to drive a gun barrel in your mouth at the futility of it all. There’s a context to all our failure that so often gets overlooked or ignored when we’re drowning in our own pitiful tears and it’s quite possibly the only factor that makes any difference – at all – in life.
Forgiveness: What’s it to you?
“…for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, and are justified freely by his grace through the redemption that came by Christ Jesus.” (Romans 3:23-24)
The above verses are the all-important context that our missteps need to be placed in. Verses fifteen in 1 Timothy and twenty-three in Romans are, on their own, discouraging. But in light of the very next verses that follow, all the weight caused by the despair of our miserable predicament is made moot. It doesn’t matter what your sin of choice is – they’re all made irrelevant in on the context of grace.
So what’s the point? In the Lord’s prayer it’s stated “forgive us our sins as we forgive those who sin against us”; Jesus says in Matthew that, “in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you”. But this isn’t about God giving us an eye for an eye; rather, it’s the other way around. Because I know what it’s like to be forgiven, I should be all the more ready to forgive others.
One of my very best friends, Carrie, also happens to be one of the people who have hurt me the most. We grew close after a few months of quiet dislike that were all but forgotten after one heavy dose of cough syrup and a ride to Applebee’s. We were inseparable for over a year from that moment on. She became the first person I’d call when I was worried about my boyfriend and when she got evicted from her apartment, my family opened up our home to her. She and I had one of those rare relationships where we could just sit in silence without the awkward need to entertain one another. Neither of us pulled any punches in the friendship – I knew I could trust her to be totally honest and vice versa. It’d been a long time since I’d felt so comfortable with another person and I would have put my life in her hands.
Then I found out that while she was staying with us, she’d stolen money from my mother.
I don’t think there are enough words to accurately convey the devastation I felt when confronted with the truth. I was angry, of course – and no one could begrudge me that. But looking back, the emotion that’s stirred up and the one that I’ll never be able to separate from these memories is overwhelming sadness. To begin with it’d been easy to believe that I’d simply been played but how could I reconcile that with the months and months of hysterical laughter and frightened tears that we’d spent together? I didn’t add up. Carrie was either a con artist who spent a year faking me out or she was the same girl I’d come to love… who’d made a mistake. A very large, very hurtful mistake – but still, just a mistake.
In the end I chose faith. I confronted her, she admitted to it and we both cried. I told her that my trust was shattered but that didn’t have to be permanent. She meant too much to me and I knew that something awful had to have happened to cause her to turn down that road. At that time she was losing everything because of the mistakes she’d been making and I wasn’t OK with jumping ship to let her tread water alone.
I don’t say this to convince you of my awesome powers of forgiveness or to prove that I’ve got this particular concept nailed. If anything, my motives were mostly selfish – giving her up as a poser would mean letting go of the strongest and closest friend I’d had since elementary school. This is the corniest way to put it but I value laughter too much to let that go. Aside from the contentment I found in earnestly trying to follow my faith, I got an even better reward – Carrie. It took years to repair the damage but now I can honestly say that there’s nothing our friendship can’t withstand. We both worked damn hard to hold onto what we had and the result has been something better than we ever had to begin with. If God can get us through all this shit, I now have faith that neither of us will let go anytime soon – if ever.
Get to the point
Samson, after being blinded due to his own gullibility (and libido) and losing his massive strength, still took down the Philistines. David became the man from whom Jesus would draw his lineage. Peter was the rock on which Christ built His church. I’ve managed not to kill anyone so far and have become relatively intelligent and content. God blessed them despite being ridiculous fuck-ups and, even more incredibly, used them. If I’m honest, I’ll admit He’s blessed me beyond deserving and though I can’t imagine what He sees of value in my pathetic abilities, He’s promised that He has plans to use my life too.
So the point is this: We can’t avoid hurting people – especially those we love and are close to – nor can we avoid being hurt by them. But God saw all of our shitty choices and still decided a relationship with us was worth fighting for.
You’re worth fighting for. And so are they.
I am
There are a lot of adjectives you could use to describe me: loud, selfish, arrogant, ignorant, cynical. I’m a million negatives and paltry few positives. I have a tendency to live in the past and count my scars over and over. I’m a hypocrite and I talk a good talk but fall when the time comes to walk. I like the illusion of control better than submission even when I know it’s nothing but smoke and mirrors. I am, in the end, nothing good.
I’m a painted vase on a shelf, all carefully drawn lines and colors and intricate designs. I’m lovingly crafted but empty still. I can be looked upon and praised but I’ll stand, useless, on my own. I am not filled; I can not fill myself.
I’m a child; stubborn, naïve, inexperienced. I’ve plugged my ears to wiser ones who’ve come before and made my path as smooth and passable as it is. I’m convinced that all I’ve achieved is from my own will and hands and heart. On my own I am incapable of reaching anything or surviving the things I’m obliviously protected from.
I am the prodigal son, asking for much and giving nothing, only to wind up with nothing. I am the elder son, indignant in my tenuous entitlement to the gift of Life.
I am Sarah, laughing at the promises given and doubting the abilities of an incredible God.
I am the woman at the well, letting my human wounds and fear move me to turn my back on faith.
I am Peter, placing so much value in what others think that I deny own salvation.
I am Thomas, asking skeptically for signs before I give my life.
I am Paul, doing what I don’t want to do and not doing what I do want to do.
I am so much and yet so little, all of it awful. I am the foremost of all sinners and everything wrong with this world.
And then, there’s You.
You are hushed and quiet; soft-spoken in the most violent of storms. You are incomprehensible, unstoppable, never-changing, all-consuming, everlasting. You are the reason the sun makes way for the moon at night and chases it again every morning. You are reliable in your consistency; unchanging but far from boring.
You are misunderstood, doubted, blamed and ignored yet you remain faithful to these skeptical people. You are not just everything good – You are everything and that which makes everything good.
You are the Light on the road to Damascus that opened Saul’s eyes and transformed him into Paul.
You are the wounds that convinced Thomas.
You are the forgiveness that redeemed Peter.
You are the Living Water that slaked the woman at the well’s thirst.
You are the Creator of Life that silenced Sarah’s cynicism.
You are the waiting Father, welcoming both the wayward and the self-righteous with open arms.
You are where I began and where I will end.
You are the Friend I run to; the Father I want to make proud; the Lover who encompasses all that I desire. You are the unconditional love I am desperate to receive and anxious to emulate.
You are all that I’m not. On my own I can do so little, but because of who You are, I find I believe that I can.
Conversations with my Creator: part 3
*ring ring*
*ring ring*
*ring ring*
"Hello?"
"Hey, it's Me."
"Oh hey! Listen, I'm on the other line with Kat. Can I call You back? Will You be there?"
"Of course!"
"Awesome. Lemme finish up with her and I'll call You right back."
~ 12 HOURS LATER ~
*ring ring*
"Hello?"
"Hey, it's Me."
"Oh crap. I'm sooooo sorry! Ma and I went to lunch after I got off the phone and I totally forgot!"
"It happens. It's cool."
"Gah, I hate to do this but I'm driving to work. Can I call You back when I'm off?"
"Sure! Or, you know, you could call Me from work if you want."
"Love to but I don't think I'll have the time. And they kinda frown on that sort of thing."
"Alright. Well, I'll be here either way."
"'K. I'll talk to You later."
~ NEXT DAY ~
*ring ring*
"Hello?"
"Hi! Me again."
"Hey, I'm actually in the middle of the new Mythbusters. Could we talk when it's over? They're strapping rockets to a sled and pancaking a car!"
"Haha! OK, that's fine!"
~ THAT EVENING ~
*ring ring*
*ring ring*
*ring ring*
*ring ring*
"Hey, it's Michelle. I'm either away from my phone or screening my calls to avoid someone. Leave me a message and if I don't call back, it's you."
"To leave a voice message, press one now or just wait for the tone."
*TONE*
"Hey Michelle, it's Me. Haven't talked to you in awhile. I know you're busy but whenever you get a moment I'll be here. I'd really love to catch up."
~ 3 DAYS LATER ~
*ring ring*
"Hey there."
"Um, hi. How're You doing?"
"Divine. As usual."
"Listen, I need some help."
"I know."
"And I know I have no right to ask since I've totally blown You off and taken You for granted... but I have nowhere else to go. I've kinda fucked everything up trying to do things my way. So... yeah."
"I know."
"I was kinda expecting You to, like, not answer in fact. I wouldn't blame You."
"I know."
"So, seriously, if You don't wanna hear it, I'll understand."
"I have nothing else I'd rather do than wait for you to come to me. I knew you would and I knew it'd only happen when you needed something."
"Geez, why? Why would You put up with me? At least make me beg for forgiveness or something. I've been a selfish douche-rocket; I deserve it."
"I Love you. And you're here now because you WANT to be here. That's enough for Me."
"I wouldn't be that way, You know, if the tables were turned."
"I guess it's a good thing I'm not human."
"Yeah, I guess."
"and still obeys"
This is from C.S. Lewis' The Screwtape Letters, which is actually the first Lewis book I ever read (though I doubt I understood half of what I do now). It's the (fictional) correspondence between an elder demon, Screwtape, and his protege nephew, Wormwood, wherein he extolls advice and guidance learned from years of experience tempting the human race. The entire book is absolutely phenomenal and a rude awakening for believers as it reveals very clever ways our enemy manipulates us. The following is, however, a beautiful description of faith and I feel like a nerd for tearing up at work over it:
"He wants them to learn to walk and must therefore take away His hand; and if only the will to walk is really there He is pleased even with their stumbles. Do not be deceived, Wormwood. Our cause is never more in danger, than when a human, no longer desiring, but intending, to do our Enemy’s will, looks round upon a universe from which every trace of Him seems to have vanished, and asks why he has been forsaken, and still obeys."
Would that I journey through life's violent turbulence and frequent despair unable to quell the doubts and questions "and still obey".
10 Things: Dating is over-rated
10 Things I Wish I'd Known When I Was A Teenager
Dating is over-rated
(The heart lies; be skeptical of everything it says)
“This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us. And we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers.” (1 John 3:16)
“For light I go directly to the Source of light, not to any of the reflections.” (Peace Pilgrim, Mildred Lisette Norman)
Disclaimer: I am, quite possibly, the last person who should be trying to extol this particular granule of wisdom. While I tend to stay single for long periods of time, my attention is constantly occupied with thoughts of romance, either the prospect of or frustrations from. This is one of those times when “do as I say and not as I do” applies because God knows that I’m not the best example of living out this particular truth. In this case – as with many others – I may KNOW of how little importance dating is in the grand scheme of Life but convincing my heart that “true love” isn’t the Be All, End All has proven to be the single most difficult reality to confront. That being said I simply ask you to suspend your disbelief for the next fifteen minutes and allow me to be honest about something with which I continue to struggle in the hopes that, perhaps, you won’t be as thick as I’ve been and will succeed where I have failed.
There are few things in Life that can top the feeling of falling in love (I say this, however, as a twenty-six year-old virgin who’s never traveled outside the United States; infer from that what you may). Fifteen years ago I saw Beauty & the Beast nine times in the theater, memorized the soundtrack and eventually wore out the first VHS copy I had by watching it too much; eight years later I cried during the finale when it was rereleased in IMAX; to this day I still get chills when I hear “Once upon a time, in a far away land, a young prince lived in a shining castle….” To say I’m a romantic would be putting it very lightly; a sappy, naïve, pudding-brained school-girl is probably closer to my mindset.
A decade point five later and I’m still just as obsessed with love as I was at nine. I’ve gone through several break-ups, a near-engagement and one long-term coupling and still have yet to understand why this aspect of Life has me in a headlock. For years I thought my preoccupation was abnormal but I’ve come to find out that it’s not just me. Ninety-nine per cent (at least) of the girls I’ve discussed this with usually chime in with, “Oh, me too!” And the sad things is that ninety-nine per cent of those girls have been, at one point in time, punched in the gut (figuratively, if not literally) by love and still we cling to the belief that it’s worth a GINORMOUS amount of energy, time and passion.
I blame society
Watch CW long enough (and by “long enough,” I mean “for thirty-nine seconds”) and someone will wind up pre-coital in bed, the shower or on their bff’s countertop; FX made a hit out of hookers, doctors and superficiality on Nip/Tuck; and Grey’s Anatomy had viewers wetting their pants when Meredith’s ass finally got tapped by Dr. McDreamy behind his wife’s back.
It’s the easiest way to piss off a female these days: dog the values of her favorite show/movie/book/song. I’m no prude, let’s be honest. And I’m not suggesting that boycotting every media stream promoting less-than pristine values is how to take a stand. What I want, though, is to point out that it’s hard, if not impossible, to maintain one set of values when all you’re getting fed are the opposite ones.
Sex sells. I hate that phrase but it’s oh, so, true (I know because it works on me). Throw a tawdry affair or a love triangle into a series and I’m a starving dog all over a piece of raw meat. I justify my affinity by saying that I’m not into it for the sweaty, copulating bodies – and that’s 100% true. What grabs my shoulders is the emotional angst. I’m satisfied if the naughty bits never touch. The idea of two people being soooo “in love” that they can’t stay away from each other does things to my insides and, obviously, I’m not alone in this because it shows up everywhere. My favorite show (right now) is House and the biggest on-going plot regards House’s ex, Stacy, and her disabled husband, Mark. She’s the only woman who ever came close to melting House’s frosty heart and at least twice she’s almost jumped ship to leave the wheelchair-bound Mark for a man who’s so emotionally out of touch he hires a private detective to get dirt on his best friend. Be still my heart!
What kind of standards are we expecting love to live up to when our newest god is an indestructible, filthy rich, diamond-encrusted vampire who composes songs spontaneously for his beloved on the piano, ingests poison to save her life, hangs on her every word and has been saving his rock-hard, tree-climbing body for her alone the last one hundred and seven YEARS? I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard girls (or grown women) coo something like “Edward wouldn’t say that” or “Edward wouldn’t do it that way” and every single time I want to kill kittens with toothpicks. Bella Swan, the “heroine” (and I use that term lightly) of the Twilight series spends a good four-fifths of the second book as a worthless, hollow shell of a character (even more so than she normally is) all because Edward alleged he never loved her. She then goes so far as to purposely endanger her life in the hopes of hearing his voice. Ladies, that’s how you know it’s REAL love: when you’re driven to schizophrenia
So, what have I learned about relationships? That the surly, gruff, sarcastic “bad boy” is really just a scared and scarred soul waiting to be loved? Or that I have no need for a life (or a personality) of my own if my high-school boyfriend decides I’m not worth his time any longer?
“That’s RETARDED, Michelle,” you’ll say. “I know the difference between real life and fiction.” And you’ll be absolutely right. Your brain knows the difference – but your heart doesn’t give a fat crap WHAT’S possible if all you’ve been feeding it is a steady diet of fantasy and manipulative writing. You’re also probably aware that a burrito from Chipotle is going to clog your arteries and piss off your intestines, but when was the last time you passed that up for a crisp wedge of iceberg lettuce and a bowl of fruit?
Aside from just being a vampire, Edward Cullen is, in every sense of the word, fictional. Any boy you bring home will either, A) ignore you to play excessive amounts of Halo; B) be more interested in touching your boobies than in discussing your dreams; C) have an unhealthy interest in Jessica Alba; or D) some unholy combination of the three. The guys you meet will be (shocker) human. And just as your humanity causes you to make ridiculously stupid mistakes, Mr. Hollister Jeans From The Food Court is going to let you down too.
We’re all sinners; it’s time you put on your big-girl panties and dealt with that fact. Love isn’t dictated 100% by the heart, no matter what One Tree Hill tells you. We’re given eyes to observe human behavior and brains to analyze it to the best of our ability. You’re smart enough to know eighty per cent of the time whether or not the guy two-fisting beers last night who you gave your number to is worth your energy – and your heart. So much more goes into Love than what they show you in prime time. Attraction, chemistry, fireworks – they’re important, sure, but so are respect, trust, compatibility and loyalty. I can guarantee that getting off isn’t going to satisfy you if he winds up screwing your sister.
Come on; get higher
Because of how high I’ve placed it on my List of Utmost Importance, love has always been the biggest booster of my self-esteem. On the flip side of that, it’s also the one factor that can bring on a severe depression of suicidal proportions. It’s too easy to convince me that I’m worth less when my heart gets broken by other fallible and confused humans. For as long as I can remember I’ve bought into the idea that to fall in love is the pinnacle of mortal achievement. So every time it fails to live up to that standard I’m left wondering where I fell short.
In my twenty-six years I’ve had six boyfriends and I cared about each of them very much. But for each relationship, there were a million little flaws and several big, ugly ones – on both sides. For each fairy-tale moment of euphoric romance there’s one of proportional size on the other end of the spectrum where I’m sobbing like Chris Crocker and ruining my eye make-up. This is unavoidable and if you’ve somehow dodged this bullet, just be patient – it’ll find you.
“This is love: not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins.” – 1 John 4:10
No matter who you are or what you’ve been through, there’s a foundational longing to be loved buried deep. It comes from a depth unreachable and the stain it leaves spreads to every corner. It’s why we pretend to be something we’re not and why it crushes us to find it lacking from our lives. Every stretch for good grades, thighs that don’t touch or a Z3 comes from this one desire and no matter how far we go it’s never quite far enough.
I don’t expect anyone to believe me on this. Hell, I don’t even believe it even when the evidence is pounding my head against the curb. I can say all of this, day after day, year after year and still my heart waits to be proven wrong. I’m still expecting Prince Charming to show up, sweep me off my feet and take me into Happily Ever After. But people aren’t perfect and they’re going to screw up. If I keep searching for whole-hearted satisfaction in romance (or friends or career or money or…), I’m asking for perpetual disappointment.
Rich Mullins wrote in his song, If I Stand, that “there’s a love that is fiercer than the love between friends; more gentle than a mother’s when a baby’s at her side”. This is the kind of Love that isn’t bred from emotion or affection; this is a choice and a conscious decision to put someone else before you. As Paul says in 1 Corinthians, you “humbly consider others greater than your[self]” and that often means taking a lot of undeserved shit.
Real Love is beyond logic. It motivates the kind of action that someone on the outside would balk at for being stupid. This Love is what caused the father to welcome back the prodigal son with open arms and without hesitation. It’s what calls for rape victims to forgive their attackers. It’s why innocent people reach out to convicted felons who may never see outside prison walls again. And it’s what drove Christ to a ministry that ultimately led to death.
Being “in love” requires this Love but the simple truth is that they’re two separate entities. The first is beyond our control and needs two people to experience it. The second, on the other hand, is so independent and so outside the realm of all else that it can exist only by sheer will. It’s not wrapped in conditions; it doesn’t have to meet standards; it isn’t stymied when it’s not reciprocated. It’s there without explanation and in spite of any attempts to deny it. It just IS.
You can’t manage this; I can’t manage it. We’re human and we rely on rationale and logic to guide our days. Because of this damned “humanity,” we can’t really hope to give this brand of Love and we can’t expect to get it from those like ourselves. But I can guarantee you that knowing that won’t stop me from searching for it.
“If I discover within myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world” – C.S. Lewis
I just need to know where to look.
THIS THIS THIS THIS THIS
"I remember one time Beaker and I were hiking on the Appalachian Trail, and he met some friends of his, so I walked into town. It was about a five-mile walk from the campsite down the trail..., down into town. And when I got there I went into a restaurant and I was having a steak, and this guy started talking to me and we had this great conversation. We were having a good time, and he said, "Hey look, it's dark and it's five miles up the road to your campground. Why don't I drive you up there?"
And I said, "Hey, great!"
And so we got in his car, and just as we pulled out from under the last light in that town, the guy said, "You know what, I should probably tell you that I'm gay."
And I said, "Oh! I should probably tell you that I am a Christian."
And he said, "Well, if you want out of the car..."
I said, "Why?"
And he said, "Well, I'm gay and you're Christian."
I said, "It's still five miles and it's still dark."
Then he said, "I thought Christians hated gays."
I said, "That's funny. I thought Christians were supposed to love. I thought that was our first command."
He said, "Well, I thought God hated gays."
And I said, "That's really funny because I thought God was love."
And then he asked me the big one. He said, "Do you think I will go to hell for being gay?"
Well, I'm a good Hoosier, and I puckered up to say, "Yes, of course you'll go to hell for being gay." I got ready to say that, but when I opened my mouth it came out, "No, of course you won't go to hell for being gay." And I thought to myself, 'Oh my God, I've only been in New Hampshire for one week and I've already turned into a liberal! What am I going to tell this guy now?'
Then I said to him, "No, you won't go to hell for being gay, any more than I would go to hell for being a liar. Nobody goes to hell because of what they do. We go to hell because we reject the grace that God so longs to give to us, regardless of what we do."
(Stolen from "An Arrow Pointing to Heaven", transcribed from a concert given in KY in 1994)
Must-read
I'm rereading "An Arrow Pointing to Heaven", the biography of Rich Mullins for the nine-billion and sixth time. I'm at such a different point in my life that the chapter The Love of God has hit me with a new and brutal force. His song of the same name has even more of a gut-punch.
There's a wideness in God's mercy
I can not find in my own
And He keeps His fire burning
To melt this heart of stone
Keeps me aching with a yearning
Keeps me glad to have been caught
In the reckless, raging fury
That they call the love of God
Now I've seen no band of angels
But I've heard the soldier's song
Love hangs over them like a banner
Love within them leads them on
To the battle on the journey
And it's never gonna stop
Ever widening their mercies
And the fury of His love
Oh, the love of God
And oh, the love of God
The love of God
Joy and sorrow are this ocean
And in their every ebb and flow
Now the Lord a door has opened
That all hell could never close
Here I'm tested and made worthy
Tossed about but lifted up
In the reckless, raging fury
That they call the love of God
I can think of a dozen people who need to hear that and most of them already have. From my own paltry understanding I honestly wonder how many actually know it.
Because I certainly don't act like I do.
The co-existence of doubt and faith
I stumbled upon a site called Afterall dot net while researching quotes on God's love. Its tagline is "Consider all. Test all. Hold onto the good." and in the same way I identify with and respect Rich Mullins and Brennan Manning, I appreciate the work the creator, Nathan Jacobson, is doing. There's a humble honesty in the words he posts about his persistent doubts and questions. I am not a person who can resist being angry with God at times and yet I don't believe that bothers Him. The anger stems from a place that longs to know and understand Him and it appears only when that comprehension is thwarted. I am angry because I can not grasp God as fully as I would like. Yeah, it builds a sense of self-entitlement, as if He owes me an explanation, but I'm not usually so thick that I don't slap my own cheek in exasperation when I recognize it.
Perhaps it's conceit, but I am comforted knowing I'm not the only one with these struggles. I feel less alone and it justifies the existence of my constant inquiries. That could be a dangerous path if it's incorrect. I don't know.
But I'm sure God will show me if it is.
To say thanks
Acknowledging my lack of pure faith has opened a door to a kind of humble thankfulness that I didn't know was missing before. To realize that apart from God, even something as simple as faith isn't truly possible has taken my defeated thoughts and added hope - and I haven't seen that around these parts in a very long time.
For awhile I've believed (without really knowing it) that Christianity replaced my humanity and made it easier to handle the oh-so-common struggles that pester everyone. When life got difficult, I muddled through without really attempting to alleviate my burden onto Him other than the occasional shouting match or sob-fest. And maybe my so-called strength was enough to pull me through in the past but once it cut a bit too close to the heart I hit a wall. All the methods I'd used before not only weren't working to get me through but were plunging the knife deeper with each attempt. I kept pushing and pushing... and the wound grew. It never occured to me that the problem was as much my approach as the actual problem. I was all talk when it came to trusting God but when the rubber met the road and I was called to live up to all I said, I couldn't. I still can't. My struggles seem so simple and the solution is so clear but my humanness holds me back.
But now I see it. I no longer believe I'm filled with an unshakeable, 100% rock-solid trust. I know that even though I want to be all faithful, all the time, I'm not. I've relied on my own pitiful strength because I didn't think the faith I did have would be enough. Or, rather, I didn't think God would make up the difference when my faith fell short.
Pain is not evidence that I'm going the wrong way; it's nothing more than a consequence of life. And faith isn't the anaesthetic that numbs the ache - it's the hope that comes from knowing that there is more on the other side. Trusting God won't make the mountains fall but it will give me the stamina to climb every last one in my path.
What I thought was faith wasn't and that realization has pushed me back to Start. I've been left empty-handed and all the things that I thought made me "better" have been stripped from my grasp. I'm standing - naked, useless, and humiliated - with all that I prided myself on around my ankles. It's all nothing more than bullshit and it doesn't mean anything, not to Him. I literally have nothing to give that He needs. But I have something He wants.
"There. Now THIS I can work with."
Spiritual fraud
God and I had a fight last night. I lost, much to my surprise.
For the past year my question has been "Why can't I give it up? How is that I continue to struggle with the illusion of control?" If know that A) God is ultimately the one in control and B) what He has in store is 900 gazillion times better than anything I could plan, why am I still so stubbornly refusing to acknowledge my own powerlessness?
I don't trust God. It's as simple as that. My faith, as it stands, is insufficient to sustain the "correct" actions that Christianity promotes. My humanity taints and dilutes the innocent trust that faith necessitates and my ability to follow the narrow path suffers as a consequence. For the past twenty-six years I've allowed my heart to gather and collect bitterness, cynicism and doubt from a sad little sense of self-entitlement. "Somehow, life owes me a crabmeat salad." And now the result is the stunted growth of a heart that desperately wants to chase the freedom of total abandon and trust yet doesn't even know how to try.
The truth is that I'm hopeless. I can't do anything right of my own volition because my present is colored by the heartbreak in my past. I've allowed negativity to creep up and extinguish every flame that even threatens to burn. I am so utterly alone on an island I built, stocked and swam to. I can not manage to give up because a part of my brain questions whether anyone or anything will truly be there to catch me. It all falls on my shoulders. And I can't sustain it. I'm not meant to.
"The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak."
"And He has said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for power is perfected in weakness.""
Faith isn't even sustainable apart from Him. My eyes are from this world and they are blinded by everything they've seen. Where my human strength causes me to fall short of my lofty goals Christ meets me. Once again, I am saved.
Conversations with my Creator: part 2
I've been analyzing my humanity lately and the penchant I have for forcing my independence. I think I've pinpointed where I keep going wrong. For the past, oh, nine months or so, almost every conversation I've had with God has pretty much read from this script, word for word:
ME: Hey, You. I need some advice.
GOD: OK, hit Me.
ME: (insert four hours of hacking sobs and snot sucking)
GOD: Hm. Alright. Here's what you need to do. Give it to Me and let Me handle it. DO NOT, under any circumstances try to step in and "fix things". Just... let Me do My job, OK?
ME: Mmmhmm, mmmhmm, I see where You're coming from. That totally makes sense.
GOD: Good.
ME: OK, I'mma go try to fix things.
GOD: *facepalm* ...alright. I'll see you in a few hours when you've screwed it up. AGAIN.
ME: Awesome. BRB, ruining my day!
I could be wrong but I'm pretty sure God's been trying to tell me something.
... I just can't figure out what.
Trust, love, faith and other things I don't understand
Ever since confronting my faith I've been digging deeper into my spiritual life and how I've been letting it (or not letting it) saturate my life.
At this point, the only thing that brings any sense of peace to my life is the possibility of trusting Him in ways I never have before. I feel as if I have no idea what life is going to bring and the mistakes I've made trying to steer my own course cut me. I wonder how many wonderful things have been lost to me forever because of my own ineptitude and delusions of power. This past summer I lost the one thing that meant the most to me in part because I gave in to fear. God has used that to move me closer to Him and the "what if"'s are endless and essentially pointless, so I refuse to dwell on them any longer. I'm learning to let Him in not because I believe I'll gain something in the end since, after all, "trust at the mercy of what it receives is bogus trust". No, I'm submitting because I've screwed up and hurt myself more often than I had realized by trying to do things my way. And I'm so tired of hurting.
I talk at God a lot, but it's a very one-sided conversation. Often I would listen to what He had to say then shrug and say "Good idea. Thanks for the input. But I'm gonna go ahead and do it THIS way." More recently I've been actively trying to change this tendency toward making God my sounding-board and not my guide, but it's not easy. Acknowledging my desire to be 100% self-sufficient isn't the end and it wasn't even the difficult part, I found. No, the hard stuff is putting it into practice when every natural inclination I have is to turn my back and walk alone. It's a learned response - not even something I have to think about. I pray, ask for forgiveness and listen to what He has to say... then an hour later I begin to tune Him out again. I'm even gun-shy of saying or thinking "Hey, I think I'm getting the hang of it!" because as soon as I feel as if my grasp on the concept is firm, I say "I got it, God. I'll take it from here." and the whole cycle repeats itself.
What's even more baffling to me is the notion that God doesn't really care. He isn't concerned with how far along I'm moving or even if I'm moving at all. The only thing that matters to Him is my acceptance of the fact that I can't do it on my own and the only way to succeed - even a little bit - is by letting Him lead. There is nothing expected other than to live by this: "I am love. Period."
"Justice says: 'I owe you nothing, for you have broken the contract.' But where justice ends, love begins, and reveals that God is not interested merely in the dividends of the covenant. He is looking into the eyes of Israel from His depths to hers. He sees through the smokescreen of deeds good and bad to Israel herself. She glances up uneasily, 'Who? Me?'"*
My motives are not pure. A part of me acts out of selfishness and because my hands are grasping greedily at the blessings God has promised. And yet, I see these parts of my heart and I'm ashamed... and God says "I am with you, I am for you, I am in you. I expect more failure from you than you expect from yourself."*
Nothing else is taken into account but my acceptance, not even my unstoppable humanity.
(Stolen from "The Ragamuffin Gospel" by Brennan Manning. If you haven't read it, you are missing out on a lot.)
