When I was a kid, I remember standing next to a sixty year old woman in church. She was holding the hymnal up so that her elderly mother and she could share it. At one point, as the song moved to another verse, the mother reached up and pointed at that verse on the page, as if her daughter might not know. That image stuck with me. It’s an image I often think of when I see people trying to be everyone’s mother.

One of the bad side effects of moralism (the idea that our good works earn us God’s love) is that the moralist thinks he should run everyone’s life.
10:34:00 PM
I want to be distracted. From the uncertainty of it all. From everyone’s opinions presented as the whole truth. From my own unrelenting thoughts.

Give me ten episodes to binge-watch of Hell on Wheels or giggle through hours of Adventure Time. I want music and books, movies and games, all to divert the yammering in my brain. Put all my focus onto the unreality of some fictional characters pain and triumphs.

Just.

Not.

Me.

I’ll even take lies.

9:34:00 AM
I left without saying good-bye. I had dug myself a hole, curled up into it and stayed there. I had friends, but I didn’t know how to express to them how I was feeling. I was in a healthy home church, but I couldn’t bring myself to go. Almost a decade of accumulated pain, loss and bitterness had accumulated, and one last heart-break had flattened me down to the point of numbness. I had one friend, and that was only because he kept showing up when no one else (including me) did.

I walked away from everything I knew—family, my city, my church, not to mention a mortgage.

I didn’t just move a few towns over, I ran states away. I threw away, gave away or burned everything that wouldn’t fit into my car and hit the road. In retrospect, I was cutting my ties to all that hurt and loss. I was trying to physically do what I couldn’t mentally do—stop the pain.

I can’t imagine how confused and hurt I must have left my friends. And I see, now, that digging that hole and crawling into it, not taking advantage of those who were so clearly available to me, was an invitation for the pain to worsen. I was the dog, mangled by a big rig, crawling under the house to die rather than dragging myself to someone I knew would love me enough to care for me.

Made To Need

There’s an interesting passage in the creation story where God, after saying everything he’d created up until that point was good, stops and says that something isn’t good. It’s not good, he said, for man to be alone. Now, we can safely assume that God didn’t make a mistake there. I think, before creating woman as a companion to man, God is pointing out the significance of what he’s about to do is.

We need each other. That’s what God said. Not only that. We are made to need each other. Like a lack of oxygen or water lessens, or destroys, our health, a lack of companionship eats away at our souls. And when we think—as I did—that no one else will understand or care, or that we can handle this burden alone, we lessen ourselves.


It was pride, mostly, that kept me away. It was thinking my pain was somehow a rare strain of the pain of others, unable to be deciphered by mere mortals (other than myself, of course). So… don’t be me, is the message of this post. Let go of the reins and trust God. Let go of your pride and trust those He’s given you—those who love you most.
7:25:00 PM
My wife and I were at the grocery store the other day and she commented to me on how beautiful a young girl working behind the counter was. It was true. There was something about her particular face construction and whatnot that made your brain go, “We should stare at that. It’s so symmetrical!” Not staring in an uncouth way, but in the same way one might look at a nice painting.

The moment got me thinking about the nature of beauty.

Beauty as I See it

This idea of beauty is not something we’re born with, you know? At least not one’s personal idea of beauty. If you’ve ever wondered why some nice, pretty girl thinks messy, unshaven drug-addled drop-outs are the bees knees, this will make things make a lot more sense. Because while there is something our brain enjoys about a certain type of physical symmetry, personal opinions of beauty are also a socially programmed thingamajig. The people one is exposed to most, and are accepted as the norm (there's that love of symmetry again) in your specific social group, are thought of as the most desirable. 

That may be why you find yourself always dating the same type of person, but you can talk to your counselor about that, I'm more concerned in this piece about how it also may be why we treat some people as worthless.

Beauty as Social Currency

If what is beautiful to us can be influenced by outside forces, it stands to reason that, in the world we live in, people will use that power for nefarious purposes. It’s interesting to note that beauty is a concept that has often been defined by those who have more than the rest of society and believed themselves better for that fact alone. For instance, all the fat we so desperately try to lose was seen in some eras as a positive thing. Why? Because food was scarce and being overweight was an outward sign that one had money enough to purchase enough food to be so.

That twisted definition of beauty (which defines power and influence) affects the Church as well. The bible gives an example of this kind of behavior in James 2:3. James warned against giving the best seats in the house to the rich and important, and making the poor sit on the floor. And things haven't changed. At one church I attended, which shall remain nameless, they were desperate for new members—to grow the church—but when those who began to attend were not as upper middle-class, nor as well-educated as themselves, they weren’t  all that happy with it.

White churches are white, conservative churches are conservative, rich churches are rich—etc., etc., etc. Sometimes this kind of stuff is due to language barriers, or living in particular neighborhoods, but mostly it’s not. Mostly we just see ourselves as so much more worthy of beauty--as more important--from the other that we can’t imagine worshipping with them. It’s because we want beauty, as we have come to define and worship beauty, and all that comes with that all-important social currency, more than we want God.

Marinate in that.

The good news of Jesus says that those faux barriers of beauty we’ve created have been crushed to dust. There’s no male and female, conservative or liberal, black or white in God’s economy. We’re all equal and we’re all welcome at God’s table. Beauty is revealed as the unsymmetrical gathering of the lame and well, the rich and the poor, the mayor and the high school drop-out. Beauty is the diversity of those imperfects made symmetrical, made one, as they are gathered in God’s love.


-Chad
3:49:00 PM
I’ve had the stone-on-my-heart, dry-mouthed desire to be among the cool kids and I’ve felt the electrical exhilaration of being on top of the world. Too often, I’ve paid too much for a minute of worship and  been too unkind when in a position to give mercy. There were certainly times in my life that I believed being fashionable, trendy and altogether hip was the skeleton key to unlocking this bastard life. And, surely, that’s what Jesus wants for me.

We see the popular jerk getting the girl we have pined after and prayed for and we think they must know a secret. Because the stalwart, kind and loveable loser loses once again. The obviously idiotic get the attention and money, while the level-headed pre-planners are left in the dust with naught but a pat on the back. The slacker knows the band, and you can barely see them from the back row. It’s no wonder we think there is some hush-hush path to victory that involves a heaping helping of popularity and some mystical mix of self-aggrandizement.

A Second Path

There’s no doubt that the above behavior wins hearts and minds, builds empires and inspires t-shirts. But it just as often, later, crushes souls, levels lives and quiets the crowds. But, for some, even a shot at that brief explosion in the sky, that momentary firework of faux love and periodic adulation is worth whatever silent fall might come after. And that’s a choice you can make. One is most certainly capable of selling one’s soul for a few minutes with a tight body, a Scrooge McDuck volume of cash and a front-row seat. But there is a second path.

Some will misunderstand because of its radical nature, so it’s hard to explain, but be sure that it isn’t a place where tired zeros come to die. It’s where those tired of the chase after temporal immortality come. It is where cool may or may not be achieved in the eyes of the world, but it certainly isn’t the point, and is kept up long after its fashionable. It’s the place Jesus wanted us all along—a simple life, marked by love and peace with others.

It’s a world where the stalwart, kind and loveable loser is lauded.

It’s where those reckless at handing out their love aren’t seen as weak, but people to emulate.

It’s where the guy who knows the band gives up his front row seat so that light can shine one someone else who needs it.

The Key to Life

The key to life isn’t yet another orgasm that leaves you empty an hour later. It’s not the roar of the crowd that causes the deafening silence to be unbearable when you lie in bed that night. It just isn’t a band-aid, a quick fix or an unending series of fillers for that deep, dank hole in our chest. It’s Jesus. If you define yourself by your success; get your self-worth from others, you’re going to crash face-first into defeat.

There’s nothing wrong with being on top, but the world is a heartless turning wheel with no conscience. Life is a bastard, and, sometimes, so am I. I can’t trust the universe to guide me, or you to always care. I can’t trust my cool to stay all that cool for very long. But God offers his second way to those weary of the work of achieving cool. So, when I trust in Him, letting His perfect love define me and my self-worth, I don’t have to get those things from you, and I can finally have a balanced, real relationship with you. When I see that life is a gift to live in thankfulness, not a mystery to frustrate me, I don’t need your applause.
12:47:00 PM
There are two types of righteousness in the Christian faith. Martin Luther labeled these two as passive and active. Passive is the righteousness that we receive from God. We do nothing to receive it. Active righteousness is our good works, overflowing from a thankful heart, a new heart created in us by God through a new will empowered by God’s Holy Spirit.

Now, I get that good works is a frightening phrase for those of you who have been beat up by the concept of working your way into God’s favor. But this is not that. And when you realize that our good works don’t fit into the category of passive righteousness—the means by which we have once-and-for-all earned God’s acceptance—then you see you aren’t doing good works as some kind of payment to God. You are doing them because you belong to God. That new heart and God’s Spirit within you are working in tandem to make us more like our Father. As Luther put it, “God doesn’t need your good works, but your neighbors does.”


That may not be a knowledge explosion for you, it may not set you back on your heels, but I grew up with a checklist of things I needed to be doing better in order to appease God. 

I’ll be kinder—check. 

I’ll give more—check. 

I’ll go to church more often—check. 

So, the idea that works aren’t currency is mind-boggling for me. To think that what we label “good works” is just another name for responding to the passive love from God we’ve received, letting it pour over onto the lives of those around us, like a big, beautiful exploding volcano of joy, an ocean of mercy, a world of love, by the power of God’s Spirit within us, takes the pressure off.

I no longer feel as though I'd better love or else, it’s I get to love in my daily life by taking advantage of opportunities that God set up in advance for me, and empowers me to do. And by get to love, I don’t mean that I’ve neurotically convinced myself it’s a great thing. It means that I’ve been loved so hard that I really, really want to love others like my God loves me.
5:32:00 PM
About ten years ago, I was a part of a group of people who were licking their wounds after being severely tossed about and out by the church. We were an angry, hurt lot that did a lot of encouraging and a little bickering as we worked through our issues. As that group dissolved, my dissolution with the church froze into a bitterness I would carry around for a long time.

As my bitterness was slowly dissolved by the love of God I found myself starting life over again. A new state, new friends and, oddly enough, another group of people who are where I was ten years ago. Hurt, confused, and tender-hearted towards others who are hurt and confused. All of us bound together and reliant on the unremitting, undeserved kindness of God.

The Dizziness of Freedom
I’ve found that going through this time in my life was much like my late teenage years. There were times when you realized you could think for yourself, do things that were considered taboo and find that the world didn’t end, and basically breath without the help of the organization that you had considered indispensible for so many years.

Also like one’s teenage years, there is a lot of emotion in psychological healing. It seems that almost every act of freedom comes with an equal and opposite dose of anger at recalling the chains you were bound to for so many years. Every time someone in a place of spiritual leadership says something even close to that awful message of bondage, you find yourself shrinking back, welling up with anger and frustration.

Healing and the Occasional Snake Oil Salesman
It can be a lonely place. It can also be a confusing one as those who haven’t gone through what you have, yet believe the message of God’s love, find it difficult to understand your anger. Some people who have never gone through a bad church experience find it almost impossible to relate. Sometimes, these kind but clueless family members make you doubt your sanity. Maybe you’re just overreacting. Maybe you’re universalizing one bad experience.

But it does get better. Like all wounds, it heals. And like all illnesses, everyone thinks they have a quick cure. Kindly nod at their impatience and keep trusting God’s Spirit. Know that there will be kicking and screaming, angry takedowns of angry people, honesty that’s so raw it hurts to hear, simply because the voice that was muted finally realizes it can speak without the former consequences. Expecting perfection in yourself or others that are healing is a pointless endeavor. But we’ll still expect it because of our deep seated neurotic need to be and see perfection in all Christians.

Allow yourself to be human. Allow others to hurt and feel and cry and scream. Allow them their anger and don’t to lecture them out of their bitterness. It’s a wretched place that mistrusts everyone, including God, but you can’t fix it by yelling for us to stop. Love, that’s what we need. The patience and understanding of love is the only thing that will quiet our hearts and eventually see us to the shore from the raging waters of bitterness. Be patient, with yourself and with others. Trust the Spirit to work forgiveness and healing in you (even when you don't want it) and know that even the biggest mistake is not fatal in God’s economy.
1:43:00 PM
Do you see it? I’ve seen it. 

The helplessness is like standing over the barely breathing form of a loved one, slowly slipping away. It’s the ache of staring at the no longer stirring forms after they’ve gone. Except I’ve done it. I’ve skipped into the room of my beloved, and twirled on my heel as I pulled the pillow from underneath their head and pushed it down over their face.
10:12:00 PM
For years, I’ve been saying that I’m a sinner. But I don’t think people have really believed me. When I say that, I’m not giving you a half-smile and a wink. It's not a necessary pretense. No, I need the new nature that Christ has given me, the Holy Spirit forming me into his image. I need the resurrection work of God, because I am just as apt to fall to temptation as anyone else. 

And I often do.

To be clear, I want to please God. I want to love more. I want to forgive more. I want to think more of you than I do of myself. But you could find out my secrets tomorrow. Not the socially acceptable stuff, either. My closet of skeletons could break open under the weight of my sin and spill out for all to see. And, if that happens (and it could happen to any of us) I want to remind you that I told you so.

I don’t say that as some kind of excuse. I’m ashamed of my mistakes. I say it because I’m irrelevant. 

I don’t tell you God loves me because I’m hiding something. I don’t tell you God loves me as an excuse to hide my sin. I tell you God loves me in spite of knowing the depths of my sin. Because I know it’s true. Because, without the truth that while we were still dead in our sin, Jesus died for us, I’d either be trying to convince myself that I’m not as in need of forgiveness as I am or a cowering, devastated mess. I tell you because God loves you too.

In spite of ourselves, we’re loved. Imperfect messengers are all there are, and imperfect messengers don’t lessen the truth of the message. Not when the message is that we are weak, imperfect messengers loved by a kind, gracious God.
6:12:00 PM
I stopped my thoughts before they escaped into words, checking their pockets for hidden slights or contraband foolishness. I might not even say them at all... Just to be safe. There was too much chance they might offend. And who knows what would happen to the eternal soul of some poor listener if I unwittingly ruined the Good News of God with some imperfect pronunciation?

My actions went through the same rigor. I scrupulously weighed them in light of how they might affect my witness to God. I had come to believe that I was the only bible some people would ever read, and that weight was enormous. In my mind, how well I seemed to keep the imperatives of the bible (and those inferred and tacked on by various other Christians for good measure) was indicative of how many people I could lead to Jesus. 

I wish someone had told me that my goodness wasn’t the Good News. 

4:05:00 PM
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