(Been pretty quiet here. Just a lot to process. Still struggling to find words, but…}
I’ve been conflicted for some time now…years, probably. Over and over, talking to people and realising that their Jesus and mine isn’t the same…that their Jesus sounds like an absolute monster and I get why they would walk away. And then I wonder if I am just part of the problem…with my inconsistencies and fears, my not wanting to offend/hurt people, not wanting to be yet another voice in the chaos–claiming to be representing God. I just…dunno.
No one has been kinder to me than the Lord. No other love has so pursued me when I’ve run away, been so patient with and through my sin, so calmed me on days when I want to bang my head against a wall until it bursts, so listened to my fears, so let me be my weird self, called me out of darkness and despair…I don’t quite have words. I just know this song says so much of what I’ve been struggling with for years.
I’ve been pretty quiet here. Just too much to process, I guess. When I thought about what to possibly say, I realised I had already said it…in 2012. Here goes:
What do you do when you get to the end of yourself? What will it take to get you there?
It’s funny how I’ll know something is true, but spend years denying it. I know I can’t be trusted. As much as I appear to have it together on some levels, there’s just something in me that tends towards my own destruction–gleefully.
Even knowing that I can’t be trusted to do something as simple as brush my teeth every night or take a shower every day (most days, though. Teehee), I still want to get things right. I want to be strong enough to resist the things I know I should stay away from. Why? Because I know I should stay away from them. I want to not do what I know is wrong. I want to be strong, but I’m not. I’m terribly, terribly weak.
Not only am I frail beyond my own comprehension, I also delight in things I ought not to. No matter how I try to deny it, no matter how I take refuge in the illusion of improvement, this is who I am.
But, this is good news–excellent, even. I can’t make myself different. There isn’t going to come a day when my desires will suddenly line up with military precision to the standards of morally acceptable conduct. There won’t be a day when I wake up loving God above all, and hating sin (general or specific) to the point of utter repulsion. It’s just not coming.
It doesn’t need to.
See, when I stopped trying to fix myself, and just embraced the reality that I am truly wicked, I had to fall on God’s mercy. All these things I ought not to do will never fade by human effort. Only God can change me. God, who loves me as I am, just wants me to look into His eyes and give myself to Him, wretch that I am. That is where the fullness of joy comes from…from seeing God and knowing He is Love…from facing the reality of my own brokenness and the incomparable greatness of the God who makes all things new.
So, what’s your story, your “struggle”? I won’t say it doesn’t matter, but it is not the hindrance you may think it is. God knew us in advance, and He chose us. He saw that we’d fail, saw that we’d watch pornography, have sex when we shouldn’t, have homosexual desires, have abortions, kill, rape, steal, hate, lie…saw that we’d willingly and gladly worship all but Him. He saw that, and He loved us…still loves us.
He saw us,and He chose us…He delights in us through Jesus, as we are.
Let’s just be honest with ourselves. We’re not gonna beat those things, and the sooner we face it, the better. God longs to bring us to Him, to transform us as we fix our eyes on Him. He is the goal, not acceptable behaviour. Let’s be honest with God. Let’s be honest with each other. We suck, and it’s okay.
I dare you. Open up to God. Open up to someone about your struggles, someone who will pray with and for you…someone who will love on you. See where it leads.
Perhaps the first step to freedom is facing the power of our own weakness.
Update This song (sheer genius) is one of my recent obsessions:
One of my favourite people ever is agnostic. Strangely enough, he has done more for my faith than just about anyone else in my life. We have difficult discussions, perhaps made more challenging by the difference in our worldviews. As much as I wish he would return to a place of faith, I can’t deny the world needs more people like him–those capable of independent thought, not stemming from rebellion, but a genuine thirst for knowledge.
A common theme in our discussions is that he thinks my faith is…unshakeable? He once said he can’t picture me at a place of not believing God exists. For some reason, this has always baffled me, perhaps because belief in God’s existence does not imply it has any effect on one’s life. Perhaps because of the gulf that has always existed between my head and my heart.
I think, to him, it’s hard to perceive the love of a God whose existence you have much reason to question. For me, it’s hard to deny the existence of a God whose love you can’t escape, despite your best efforts. That’s probably the hardest thing to explain: that I’m not a Christian because I’m awesome and I just love this Jesus Guy so much, but because I honestly suck, and He hasn’t backed down from that.
In the face of relentless love, it would be intellectually dishonest of me to say God doesn’t exist, but what does an acknowledgement of His existence guarantee? Can’t I know He exists, but not give a hoot? Can’t I live as if He doesn’t exist, as if I’m sovereign, as if what He says doesn’t matter? I can. And I have. That is the story of my life and my faith journey. Almost 20 years in, I’m still a colossal wretch, but isn’t that the point? Isn’t that what the Cross shows us? That we are all far from awesome, but it’s not a deal-breaker? That we are tansformed, not by understanding we are wrong, but by understanding we are loved? That God, who is Love, is willing to walk with us…as we are?
That’s a hard concept for many people, especially Christians, to grasp. Maybe that’s why I don’t know how to talk to people about this Jesus I know…because He might not be the same one you have heard about. Maybe you’ve heard about a ‘God’ whose love you have to work for, who is put off by your failings and the very stench of your humanity, who dangles the idea of salvation like a carrot, but is really waiting for you to screw up enough for him to cut you off. But, that’s not my God. If He were like that, I would have been cut off years ago…because I’m not joking when I say I’m a sinner.
I’m definitely not a good person, and I probably break more of God’s laws than many people who don’t even believe in Him. I’m detached and callous, I have anger issues, and if the morality police decided to come after me? Life sentence. There is nothing about me that qualifies me to be a Christian, and I’d be an even bigger liar if I told you I could change. It is not in me to love God, or even to love people well. I care, but only as much as my built-in resistance allows. I’m about as far from perfect as you’re likely to find on this planet, and there’s nothing I can do about it.
I am a sinner. And that is why I need Jesus.
But God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that, while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.
For some time now, I’ve been wondering what would happen if people dared to be honest. See, I like to think I’m honest, but I doubt I am. I see relatively clearly, and I tend to say it as I see it, but if my innate dishonesty hobbles my capacity for objective sight, what’s the point?
I think I’m a hypocrite…most days, anyway. Can any other label be as fitting when I face a world I have no desire to even be in? When God’s name flows so easily in conversation, but there seems to be no place for Him in my heart? When I tell myself this will pass, because it has passed before? The fact is, each step of this tortuous dance is familiar, yet I will not end it. Because I’m a hypocrite.
There is much to be said for the comfort of a cyclic existence, even with the overhanging knowledge that there is an end, and a rather unpleasant one at that. Knowing better awaits us outside of our self-constructed prisons rarely serves as motivation to break free. If you’re me, motivation does not make a habit of presenting itself. I’d rather tell myself I need to change than actually take steps in that direction. Because I’m a hypocrite.
Enthralled witness to my own demise, the question of an exit strategy arises. As much as I possess an intellectual hold on grace, I’m not very good at facing it. Grace exposes the liar in me. It tells me I will fail, but empowers me not to. It reveals my intrinsic unlovableness, yet lavishes upon me a love so independent and ferocious, I instinctively flee from it. I refuse to take hold of the redemption I so readily remind others of. Because I’m a hypocrite.
Perhaps it is the admission of hypocrisy that leads to its end.
O Love that wilt not let me go,
I rest my weary soul in Thee;
I give Thee back the life I owe,
That in Thine ocean depths its flow
May richer, fuller be.
O Light that followest all my way,
I yield my flickering torch to Thee;
My heart restores its borrowed ray,
That in Thy sunshine’s blaze its day
May brighter, fairer be.
O Joy that seekest me through pain,
I cannot close my heart to Thee;
I trace the rainbow through the rain,
And feel the promise is not vain,
That morn shall tearless be.
O Cross that liftest up my head,
I dare not ask to fly from thee;
I lay in dust life’s glory dead,
And from the ground there blossoms red
Life that shall endless be.
– “O Love That Wilt Not Let Me Go” (George Matheson, 1882)
Roads paved with good intentions often lead to a predictable destination. That may very well be the story of the major portion of my life. Or, maybe I should get one of those life things before I attempt to determine its story.
Whatever the case, I am a liar. What other option is there, if any plans I make in the direction of change tend to be little more than passing acknowledgements of the need for a difference? Who else can I be when I make promises I know I can’t–and often, won’t–keep? When I’m content to see what needs to be done, but do nothing about it?
There are few poisons as potent as self-deceit. You see, it is all too easy to think that knowing something is wrong is a sufficiently significant step in the right direction. Some of us, present company topping the list, never take another step. How natural it is to sit and nurse the idea of disturbed equilibrium, weaving it into a grand quest (complete with the requisite slaying of dragons), only to have it stay there and become nothing but an overgrown obstacle. Welcome to my world.
I’ve had quite a few people tell me I know what’s wrong with everyone but me. Comforting as that notion may be to those holding it, it is so erroneous that it is almost laughable. Fear not, I know what’s wrong with me (or have a good enough grasp of the extent of my dysfunction)…I’m just not particularly inclined towards doing anything about it. What does that make me? Not just a liar, actually. It makes me full of–ehem, overflowing with excrement.
Usually, at this point, I’d launch into some lovely truths about God and the fullness of grace. For me, those are not the platitudes they can so easily double as. But, today, doing so would serve only to cement what is the point of this post.
I. Am. A. Liar. And that, my friend, is the truth.
That takes me right back to my childhood and games of hide-and-seek with those creative, borderline unscrupulous individuals who just wouldn’t be nice and decent and just count properly! 🙂 That aside, that silly little song has come in so handy over the years. Unknown to most of the population, whenever “One, two, skip a few…or a lot” or some variation of that features as my Facebook status, it’s my little way of giving myself a heads-up…that I’ve skipped more breaths than is safe.
I often question the existence of my soul (in a purely non-theological fashion). It is as if basic, human elements that function for other people don’t function for me. I used to have them, until the expedient nature of checking out of the human race revealed itself most clearly. I was fine, until I realised I wasn’t.
Very few things touch me deeply enough for me to remember that I may/used to have a soul. Most days, I’m okay with that. Recently, though, it’s as if I’ve been stuck in neutral, or on some nebulous plane that allows me to stand outside of myself and behold the unfolding horror. My mind registers the horror, but nothing responds inside me. Whatever passes for my soul forgets to breathe.
Sometimes, all I need is a good reminder. My sister posted a song I’d heard before, but forgotten how much I’d liked it. A song so beautifully human. Soul-deep.
According to the lovely folks at Wikipedia, “the song asks the fortunate to consider the plight of the less fortunate”. The writer died at the age of 37, and it makes me wonder how he managed to live so much life in such a short time, for such words can come from nothing but the power of the human experience. Over 150 years later, that power prevails.
It feels strange to share something that so deeply connects with me, but I’d consider it an honour if you would listen to this song. Thank you.
“Hard Times Come Again No More” [Stephen Foster (1826-1844)]
Let us pause in life’s pleasures and count its many tears
While we all sup sorrow with the poor
There’s a song that will linger forever in our ears;
Oh, hard times come again no more
Chorus
‘Tis the song, the sigh of the weary
Hard times, hard times come again no more
Many days you have lingered
Around my cabin door
Oh, hard times come again no more
While we seek mirth and beauty and music light and gay
There are frail forms fainting at the door
Though their voices are silent, their pleading looks will say;
Oh, hard times come again no more
‘Tis a sigh that is wafted across the troubled wave
‘Tis a wail that is heard upon the shore
‘Tis a dirge that is murmured around the lowly grave
Oh, hard times come again no more
…what I want to hear…and then I tell myself I don’t want to hear it. By then, it’s already too late, and I’ve managed only to dig myself deeper into this hole I tell myself I want to come out of.
…what I don’t want to hear, and then I use it as an excuse to not do anything about it…”Oh, at least I know what the problem is”, and then I tell myself that’s progress.
…that I’m changing, perhaps finally growing up. After all, if I can perceive the lies I tell myself, it must mean I’m moving in the right direction.
…that I’ll never change, and this growing up thing is yet another doomed seed planted in the fertile soil that functions as my imagination. After all, if I can perceive the lies I tell myself, yet hold on to them, it must mean I am even more of a moron than I thought.
…to hope and dream. How else will my soul catch those much-needed breaths? Of all the things I tell myself, this is perhaps my least favourite.
…not to hope and dream. How else will my heart remain in the seclusion that guarantees my sanity? Of all the things I tell myself, this is perhaps the most dangerous…
…I love You, and then I tell myself I’m wrong.
…I don’t love You, and then I tell myself all the reasons I must be right.
…to shut up, for it is long overdue.
…to talk to You…and that just may be the best thing I tell myself.
Thus says the Lord:“The people who survived the sword Found grace in the wilderness—Israel, when I went to give him rest.”
The Lord has appeared of old to me, saying: “Yes, I have loved you with an everlasting love, therefore with lovingkindness I have drawn you.
The past week or so has been a time of deep reflection (well, in the moments I couldn’t distract myself with mindless entertainment).
I’ve realized something: my life is nowhere near as difficult as I think it is. Walking in love is hard, and I’ve been coming up with excuses to not do it…flimsy ones at that. I truly do not wish to be a nice person. I know we’re all different and we ought not to compare ourselves to others, but when I look at the things distressing me, versus the things distressing others in my life, I have to admit it: I’ve been a baby and another word beginning with ‘b’.
It’s been a crazy season for many people in my life, and I’ve been wondering how I’d respond in their situations. Yes, I know the right thing, but I also know myself well enough to face the reality that knowing the right thing is no guarantee that it’ll get done. Like, I don’t think people generally consciously decide to walk away from their principles. Sometimes, circumstance makes the wrong decision easier–the same way it often does for me.
Point? Most people are not ignorant of what the right thing is. It’s just that the right thing doesn’t always seem right to them or right for them. I think Christians have a tendency to throw Scripture at people without remembering the people themselves. I’m all for sharing God’s truth, and that won’t change. What I’ve found, though, is that sometimes people and I don’t have the same view of God. Sometimes, people feel so dirty, so ashamed, so insert-appropriate-adjective-here that they expect others and God to feel the same way. No wonder the Bible says to speak the truth in love. What’s the point of sharing God’s truth without God’s love behind it?
So, I’ve been thinking. Your shoes don’t make you blind to truth, but they might make truth less appealing. In your shoes, would I respond any differently? I’ve been given several scenarios to consider over the past couple months, and I can see what I’ve known for most of my life. I’m not different, no better than anyone else. In fact, I just may be worse.
In the words of a reformed slave ship captain:
Amazing Grace!
How sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me! …
‘Tis grace that brought me safe thus far
And grace will lead me home.
“Amazing Grace” – John Newton
Whatever truth we stand for, may we remember God’s love for all, as well as this basic truth: Christians aren’t better people; we’re simply products of grace.
Before I started this blog, I went back to my very first blog, which I started in 2004. As I read those thoughts, I was shocked. I wrote that? Seriously?!?!? I mean, I was clearly a bit on the weird side, but there was such substance to my thoughts back then. If I didn’t know better, I’d say I even had a functioning heart.
I’ve never been perfect, and there was even a time in my life when I was a full-blown psycho, but I can honestly say I used to be Christian. Although modern usage essentially limits the word ‘Christian’ to a noun, it started out as an adjective. The word, by definition, is clearly descriptive, so even though it was a name (noun) back then as well, the usage suggests that ‘Christian’ was first an adjective (if only in the minds of those who coined the term), which became a noun when used collectively. Those early church dudes were so like Christ that they called them ‘Christians’. (I doubt it was a term of endearment, by the way).
There was no parting of the sky, no grand herald of the changes taking place in my heart, but somehow, it became easier to be cold… easier to not care… easier to use curse words in my head… easier to say yes to things that should be automatic NOs… easier to ignore that Voice extending an invitation to discover His heart, to grow in love, and to be loved by Love… easier to close my heart (dubious as its existence is) to the changes that years of devouring Scripture had wrought.
I’m too much a creature of habit to overtly deviate from a lifetime of teaching, but there’s a nice little phrase for that: going through the motions. See, in the same way there’s no wake-up-and-suddenly-you’re-in-love, there’s no wake-up-and-suddenly-you’re-far-from-God. Baby steps lead to giant leaps, and maybe it’s skipping devotions, or holding that little grudge, or listening to that one little song that you know is gonna leave your mind in a dangerous place… just flirting with danger, as if sin exists for any purpose but the destruction of the human soul. I don’t know what your story is, but this is mine. I used to be Christian… and God, in His nice gently-smack-you-upside-the-head way, is pulling me back towards Him.
The journey to God’s heart is never easy, but it is worth it. Jesus is the Way.
A me one a wicked? (Ehem, does anyone have a similar experience?)
Jeremiah 32…
37 Behold, I will gather them out of all countries where I have driven them in My anger, in My fury, and in great wrath; I will bring them back to this place, and I will cause them to dwell safely.
38 They shall be My people, and I will be their God; 39 then I will give them one heart and one way, that they may fear Me forever, for the good of them and their children after them.
40 And I will make an everlasting covenant with them, that I will not turn away from doing them good; but I will put My fear in their hearts so that they will not depart from Me. 41 Yes, I will rejoice over them to do them good, and I will assuredly plant them in this land, with all My heart and with all My soul.’
It Begins: 