To Put Off the Conscience

My life seems to say to me: remember that time you got your heart broken, oh and that OTHER time, and when you didn't matter to that person enough to have a conversation, or not enough to that person to bother to see you, or that person to pay attention to you?

And it stings. And aches. The place where the wound was gets poked and prodded again, the moment it seems to heal.

And I wish I knew what it was like to be able to put off the conscience and do what I wanted to, even if it hurt others...and yet, there are constant reminders of what that looks like in our world. It is the reason anyone is on the receiving end of something painful, even life-threatening, and I don't want to be the cause of that in someone else's life.

Pain can teach you that you need to harden yourself, or it can teach you not to be hardened toward others; rather to value them. Wounds can cause you to unleash pain on others like a wrath and continue to ache on the inside in a way that oozes outward to infect - or they can cause you to take care not to be a hypocrite with intentional actions and words.

More than anything I find myself prone to indignation that these are the ways we find it acceptable to act and to use the privilege of the time we've been given and one another's company.

...But are we sinners?

**Disclaimer: This piece was written pre-deconstruction of religious beliefs and faith system. Many of these beliefs inform the sentiments of the writing and are not in alignment with my values. As this is a part of my journey and an extensive blog over years, I have chosen not to remove a majority of my posts written on faith. Please as a reader, take this into consideration and take what works for you, leave what does not. I also apologize for any harm my words from this past perspective may cause to any readers.**

"But God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us." Romans 5:8

The Greek word "yet", or in more translations "still", has a meaning that implies it was a state that is no more. The interesting thing in this verse then, is that the implication of Paul's words is that we were sinners, but are no more. The language of this verse, as well as the context tells us Paul did not presently buy into the identity of "sinner" for himself or other believers. 

Even in Romans 7:24-25, Paul says that God "delivers" him - present tense. In the midst of the struggle within himself as to what he will or will not do, God delivers him through Christ. He even concludes at the end of verse 25, that he has a dual servitude: in his mind to God's law, in his nature (or flesh) the law of sin. 

One could rightly conclude, though my nature without Christ is to serve solely sin, in duality as a baptized believer, I am presently also in service of God's law. I think too often total depravity would say we are useless, worthless, incompetent...but that seems to discount that God delivers us - present tense! That Romans 7:25 is followed by one of likely the most well-known verses and truths of the bible - "There is no condemnation for those who are in Christ, because through Him the law of the Spirit who gives life has set us free from the law of sin and death."

I don't know just how or why that verse tends to get lost, ignored, or downplayed. Nor the one to follow (8:3) where it says the law was weakened by the flesh! God's law was weakened by our flesh warring against our desire to serve [the law] as our master instead of our sin nature. So, God had an alternative plan for handling sin, one that was equally just and merciful. Why do we insist on preaching God's justice but not living in His mercy? Why do we insist to land on one verse of Paul's letters and build an entire component of theology around it, placing ourselves continually under the burden of sin? Again, further in Romans 8 at verse 5, it says that those who live in accord with the Spirit have their minds set on what the Spirit desires. If we have our minds set on our sin nature, do we not hold ourselves to the fire in spite of the Word telling us we're already refined? Does not the insistence that we are worthless diminish what Romans later tells us, that though our body is subject to death, the Spirit gives life because of the righteousness of Christ in us? 

I tend to get a little perturbed when I hear people say they're sinners, clenching to that name for themselves, because I believe they're holding themselves in the mindset of the flesh, not fully walking in the freedom from the law of sin and death! Nothing about reading Romans gives me the impression that is strictly limited to the life after this one. I therefore refuse to refer to myself as a sinner...

Does my nature try to tempt me away from God? Yes. Shall I go on sinning so that grace may abound? Certainly not. Did I deserve Christ's death? It depends on which way you're asking - I deserved the punishment He took in my stead, but I did not deserve that He should take my place, yet I was worth it to Him. In fact, it was an act of love (as 5:8 tells us), that while I was undeserving He took the place which was rightfully mine. It was love, not law for which Christ took the cross. The law could remain in tact and thus we could perish, but He wouldn't have it, instead showing us love by His sacrifice to meet the law's wrath for our iniquities. The act is done. 

The place that was ours was taken by Jesus so that God could demonstrate His love for us and reconcile us who were sinful to Him through love, into righteousness. 

"The Spirit you received does not make you slaves, so that you live in fear again; rather, the Spirit you received brought about your adoption to sonship. And by him we cry, “Abba, Father.” The Spirit himself testifies with our spirit that we are God’s children. Now if we are children, then we are heirs — heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ, if indeed we share in his sufferings in order that we may also share in his glory." (Romans 8:15) 

Present, All-Sufficient, & Abundant

**Disclaimer: This piece was written pre-deconstruction of religious beliefs and faith system. Many of these beliefs inform the sentiments of the writing and are not in alignment with my values. As this is a part of my journey and an extensive blog over years, I have chosen not to remove a majority of my posts written on faith. Please as a reader, take this into consideration and take what works for you, leave what does not. I also apologize for any harm my words from this past perspective may cause to any readers.**

He just indignantly kept saying he had all he needed. And I think maybe that is true for him right now. Maybe right now, there is enough. But sometimes, there comes a time when there isn't enough; when it doesn't feel like it and the simple knowledge that there is doesn't make the doubt of that truth disappear. 

Sometimes our feeble, fickle hearts need more to not grow weary, laying down and giving up the fight. I've felt like that; I'm an emotional person and, I daresay, I need God to be Lord over my emotions and to interact in them. They don't just go away nor can I simply discount them, but as real as they are to me, I know there is another reality that they don't always pick up on. 

I've spent months of my life trying to explain to my best friend what it means to be spiritually engaged in faith - not in any romantic sense, not with another, but within yourself. And my spirit can be swayed by both my heart and mind. Even with a mind full of truth, my heart is still capable of discouragement that can be paralyzing, it's still capable of doubt that can breed discouragement, it's still capable of self-preservation which shuts out others for my own sake. I need God to interact with that place in me because in my life it is a motivator, whether at times good or bad, true or deceiving. 

I can't escape the thought that that's written into His very story. He came that we would have life abundantly, through His death and resurrection to life [everlasting]! And that moves me, at times motivates me, and settles my heart into peace. I don't always know peace with a close familiarity, I am human after all. Especially right now, I can't say I know a comforting peace. My heart is anxious and low, doubtful and discouraged, and I'm having trouble reconciling my circumstances to His truth. The beauty is: in that wreckage is the perfect place for my great and mighty Yaweh to come and dwell. The bible says He is near to the brokenhearted. 

A part of me has quietly wondered if that was the purpose of it all, in my life, that God would have a place to be nearer to me than there's recently been space for Him to be. I say 'quietly wondered', because I don't like to believe that God causes pain in our lives. Plain and simple, that's not a pillar of my beliefs about Him. I think evil is rampant in this world, and I long for God to pull me from every pit I may stumble or be pushed into, because He is the All-Sufficient, Almighty One who never leaves me; because that is the Truth.

In Hebrews 11, it says that Abraham placed the very conduit through which he was expectant to receive God's promise to him on the altar, because "he reasoned" that God could raise the dead. And in Romans Paul tells that even before the promised son existed, Abraham believed - against all hope - and that that faith was credited to him as righteousness:

"Against all hope, Abraham in hope believed and so became the father of many nations, just as it had been said to him, 'So shall your offspring be.' Without weakening in his faith, he faced the fact that his body was as good as dead—since he was about a hundred years old—and that Sarah’s womb was also dead. Yet he did not waver through unbelief regarding the promise of God, but was strengthened in his faith and gave glory to God, being fully persuaded that God had power to do what he had promised. This is why 'it was credited to him as righteousness.' The words 'it was credited to him' were written not for him alone, but also for us, to whom God will credit righteousness—for us who believe in him who raised Jesus our Lord from the dead." (Romans 4:18-24, NIV)

Abraham believed against all hope that God had power to do what He promised.

I was flabbergasted and tearful when I read up on the use of the word "LORD" (in the NIV) and stumbled on an explanation of "Lord Almighty" as well. The latter is where the name 'El Shaddai' would be used. It held the meaning of an all-powerful, all-sufficient God, one who is all-bountiful and sustains. Whereas, LORD, spelled out in capitals, was to avoid the use of 'YWH' which stood for Yaweh. That name was the one God gave of Himself and it meant, "I am that I am" or simply as we sometimes say, "I am". I read that it connoted a present God. Those two things astonished me. God is not only present and is, but is all-sufficient and all-powerful. That is my God.

I can't help but look at these two things and think that I can be fully trusting in Him in spite of my circumstance looking different than I anticipated a year ago, and in the same breath I can trust that He is present, and will not leave me wanting for what He's spoken. No matter what it looks like, I can hope against all hope, I can hunger to see more of His sufficient bounty, and my heart will be satisfied. I know who He is, and I just can't get enough.

To Be Alive & to Be Human

I think there's something about pain. Pain wears us down, and then teaches us something. It's not always a good thing that it teaches us, mind you, but sometimes it exposes our true selves to us. 

You'd be surprised at the discomfort upon a vulnerable, truthful answer to the careless, passing "How are you?" we so loosely toss around by habit (as if it's any more comfortable for you that that question causes you to ugly cry because the truth is: you're a mess). I found myself with no tolerance for the blank stares, or the weakly masked panic at the realization that they don't know what to say, but they don't want me to get emotional...Get over it. I'm going to get emotional when you ask how I am the week (or 3) after ending a serious relationship.

I am one to be honest with my feelings. They are not invalid or unimportant (and anyone who tells you they are is probably not emotionally healthy), but they also don't run my life. I haven't always been this way, and I'm not always successful in it. It's taken some learning that they serve a purpose as well as some unlearning that they're harmful. Having emotions and feelings is to be alive and to be human. Managing them and listening to them well is to be wise.

In pain, you learn the balance: I am not okay, but I need to be in it for a bit so that I come out the other side healthy. If I brush my feelings aside or pretend they don't exist, I'm not moving through them and processing them - I'm letting them build up and likely trip me up later on, when they rear their ugly head due to life's lovely pressures.

Yet somehow, this is something so many of us fail at, so often. We even create a society where we're so uncomfortable with people's pain, we either ignore it or try to throw a bandaid on a bullet wound, so as to move on from the pain. That's one of the worst parts to me about processing the pain I'm in. I'm not afraid of it, I know I can't ignore it, and frankly the first few weeks of this, I haven't wanted to. Even a little less than two weeks from the great shaking in my life, I got the impression that many people wanted not to deal with my pain anymore, all the while it is still incredibly real to me. I wake up every day to it seemingly staring me in the face, as if the very reality had tapped me on the shoulder and dryly growled, "G'morning..."

Typically, anyone that has known me a while would refer to me as happy-go-lucky, fun-loving, and care-free. I've even had people tell me that with a sting of bitterness, as if envy drove their words out. All of that isn't contrived, and I don't really think it's a secret, what I've found to work to be that way. Really, it comes down to working with my emotions. I find that I am a healthier person when I know how to manage and understand them. Whether that means relishing in the joy of a moment, or sitting in the unwelcome, unwanted pain just to stare it down and say I'm not giving up, -- that is the big secret.

The happiness isn't always there...but neither is the pain. I think we each have to come to realize that our emotions don't dictate the value of our moments. Some of the most painful moments of my past, are now considered some of my most valuable. And some of the most happy and free, are bittersweet distant memories that only slightly glimmer. Still others make me cry with joy at their very thought. 

I could be proud and attempt to shield that I am in fact human and have emotions that sometimes lay me out cold, but that would somehow suggest that having them is weak, instead of that having them is human. It's funny - though not "haha" funny - how some of the most proud, seemingly strong people I've known, have had the most walls up and likely feel the most alone in their struggles. I even find myself in that sometimes, and so when I am confronted with it in someone else, I strive to choose and show grace. I, if even only faintly, hope that they might lift the veil ever so slightly to let the light into the darkness.

I can't help but to say it again: Emotions are not weakness, they are human. People in pain don't need pity, but they don't need to be ignored or placated either. They need validation that indeed what they're enduring is difficult; they need assurance that they don't go unseen in their struggle; they need another to look on them with empathy and compassion, to slightly lighten the burden and isolation of pain, by being present in it with them; they need to not pretend it isn't happening or call it good to make themselves feel better; they need someone to cry because they're crying. Sadly, pain is a part of this life. As much as it'd be easier to go on intentionally blind to it, we are more likely to have better connected families, better functioning societies, and all around healthier relationships, if we stopped running away from other people's pain, stopped trying to fix it, or explain it away, but embraced it to move through it. 

Wading through emotions and especially pain isn't always the easy road, but it certainly is the high one. Our minds and bodies are reacting to our shifting realities in an effort to guide us to process and adapt. We need to allow this not only of others, but also of ourselves. Let yourself feel the emotions that come, but let them wash over you, not steer you.

Righteous in Our Warm Beds

**Disclaimer: This piece was written pre-deconstruction of religious beliefs and faith system. Many of these beliefs inform the sentiments of the writing and are not in alignment with my values. As this is a part of my journey and an extensive blog over years, I have chosen not to remove a majority of my posts written on faith. Please as a reader, take this into consideration and take what works for you, leave what does not. I also apologize for any harm my words from this past perspective may cause to any readers.**

I'm curled up in my bed, down comforter layered with a fleece blanket and another knit one on top. I have a wool one wrapped around my shoulders. After complaining a little, as is my good American right and duty, our landlord visited the attic to discover no insulation in our 1950's house. The basement where my roommate sleeps is warmer than my room!

A few weeks ago I caved and bought a space heater. One that has a timer setting so I can schedule it to heat up my room a bit in the morning before my alarm. $30 for a wee baby space heater!

At work, we're gearing up for our partner churches to help pack and give away wool blankets with toiletries, and a few warm items wrapped up in the middle to homeless people. We call these, Homeless Care Kits. 

It was quite sobering when nearly a year ago I started working for this amazing organization. I learned about things I'd been pleasantly ignorant to before: one being the pain of homelessness. But I'd also never truly paid due attention to the way God's love was meant to intersect that pain, just as it does all others. I spent the first few weeks at this job, learning about what the bible says about how we ought show compassion to all, and especially the "the least of these," as Jesus called them.

The most startling realization was in Matthew 25. Here He tells us that if we do not do these things, we have ignored Him; we have not fed, clothed, or quenched the thirst of our Savior. This passage couldn't be more clear, I dare someone to try and water it down (though not really, if you read it that way, keep it to yourself) and yet we have so many other concepts in the bible we'd rather hang our hat on. Jesus clearly laid out, both in word and by example what compassion looked like. 

Compassion doesn't resemble judgment. Nor does it resemble fear for our supposed safety. It does however get referred to here as an act of the righteous - biblically meaning those who are in right standing with the requirements of God. That means Jesus was saying, this is part of what it means to be in right standing of me. 

The beauty and the tension is that it still needs to be done from the heart. Serving and giving needs to be done out of love. Jesus isn't saying it's the righteous who do this because He wants us to fall in-line out of obligation. See, in the Old Testament, based on our standing with God being measured by the old Law, we would've had to do things to earn that standing. Flash forward to Jesus telling us this, it was shortly before His atoning death where mere acceptance of His sacrifice is now the mark of our righteousness in God's eyes. That righteousness should then inform our actions, compelling us to show compassion to the ones that society rejects and overlooks, this by love not penance.

We're too busy trying to battle the worries of the world with our own might, slapping the label of 'Good Christendom' on it, in spite of the very contradictory nature that Christ himself lays out toward such Pharisaical ways.

I can't say I've mastered it, and I can't say I'm void of my own blind spots, but I do think this generation is in need of a reality check with what Christ called us to. Since my heart came alive to Jesus' sacrifice, I've never been able to see it as anything other than an act of love. Love was defined to the fullest in those hours.

Kind of makes one question, what are we living and dying for? And is it what we've been called to?

The Call: The Good Fight

**Disclaimer: This piece was written pre-deconstruction of religious beliefs and faith system. Many of these beliefs inform the sentiments of the writing and are not in alignment with my values. As this is a part of my journey and an extensive blog over years, I have chosen not to remove a majority of my posts written on faith. Please as a reader, take this into consideration and take what works for you, leave what does not. I also apologize for any harm my words from this past perspective may cause to any readers.**

Tonight while walking to my car downtown, a man approached me. Addressing me politely and seeming perplexed, he queried, "You from here? ('Born and raised!') Is everyone always this mean? And this cold - it's awful!" "I love it here, the cold's the worst part -- and the passive aggressive."

He was a week new to Minneapolis from LA, his job moved him,  and lo and behold, his car got towed tonight. He paid cash to park in a lot, but somehow got towed - his wallet in the car, and only $100 cash on him, short the towing fee by $18. He told me how everyone he tried to get help from, let alone talk to, in the last two hours was downright rude to him. A guy from LA. The police were "a-holes", yes he self-censored and then apologized. He told me how he went up to another lady, with the same gentleness and courtesy, began explaining his predicament when literally she ran away. He was perplexed and kept telling me I was peaceful, that he'd spent two hours stressed and cold,  but now he felt calm.

We passed a DID (peacekeeping) officer who seemed suspicious at the mere sight of us walking together - apparently someone who the man had sought help from earlier, ironically. I made sure to loudly imply I was walking with this man fully consensually, under no coercion.

We talked as we walked, he said he didn't understand why when he needed help, the cops treated him the way they did. I bluntly retorted, "Do ya watch the news at all - have you heard what's being goin' on around here, lately? Yeah, they're a little on edge, not to pardon it by any means, but it is probably why."

The gentleman was a tall, heavier set, likely middle class, middle-aged black man. Wore glasses. In a mellow in but lively downtown, between 6pm and 8pm, no one would help him or give him the time of day.

Before he spoke to me, I'd seen him walking, I knew I'd encounter him on the sidewalk as I intersected it. I had a moment to choose, and I let it be a small one. Not a wink of fear in me, and why should there be? I didn't notice him for any other reason than he was a person, and so I engaged him, walked with him, and helped him, because he's a person and my city did him wrong.

We're so fearful we overlook, or we jump to conclusions. We leave people in the freezing cold because of our fear. It pains me to think of how we fail each other. It appalls me that assuming something about someone without even interacting with them, rather only by their skin, is somehow justifiable!

I almost told him this was how I was raised, but - no disrespect to my parents - it's not that. It is however that my God instructs me to value each and every life, because He does. My God calls me to trust Him for my safety, not to fear for it as a means to secure it, whilst trampling His beloved.

I am astonished to hear "bible-believing Christians" perpetuating and defending their hateful fear as self-preservation. Tell me where Jesus taught that?

He did however say, "Whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me." (Matt 25, good chapter, check it out!) Earlier, He says the righteous did not ignore the least of these. This is by no means to say that others are lesser than us, but that somehow we as a society have let others become less, although their value is truly the same as anyone else's. They have inherent value and importance, as expressed by Christ himself for whom we call ourselves Christians.

I'm certainly not writing this to toot my own horn, so if you insist to perceive it this way, your ears are probably closed anyway; go ahead, quit now. This moment tonight was humbling. When these opportunities present themselves I consider it an honor to risk whatever to show someone kindness, while I lean into the Father's protection over me. To get to play a small role, and give away that which was so graciously given to me; to bring peace to someone's chaos; to bring support to someone's loneliness. This is our call. This is the good fight. This is mercy triumphing over judgment.

Picking Up Our Cross & Acknowledging Him

**Disclaimer: This piece was written pre-deconstruction of religious beliefs and faith system. Many of these beliefs inform the sentiments of the writing and are not in alignment with my values. As this is a part of my journey and an extensive blog over years, I have chosen not to remove a majority of my posts written on faith. Please as a reader, take this into consideration and take what works for you, leave what does not. I also apologize for any harm my words from this past perspective may cause to any readers.**

What does it even mean to pick up your cross daily?

Some believe that means daily we fall prostrate before the Lord, thanking Him for having Mercy on us, sinners. Sure. That's an option, I'd guess. Personally, I don't daily fall before the Lord, and I don't know that I feel terrible about that. What I do feel not great about is my failure to be with the Lord daily. He is there, He is with me, but do I acknowledge Him? Do I surrender daily to Him?

Sometime in the last year or so, I had a revelation on a much used verse, it's actually my dad's favorite: "Acknowledge me in all Him in all your ways, and He will make your paths straight." I think part of my having "majored" in English helps me pull this apart - our job here is to acknowledge Him. How do we do that and what does it have to do with not leaning on our own understanding? If we lean on our own understanding, we see with only human eyes and only in part, but if we trust the Lord and recognize Him all along our path, He will guide it. Acknowledging Him in all our ways requires that we surrender our path to Him; surrendering our desire to control to Him. The reality is, we cannot make our own paths straight, and our understanding is faulty, save for the understanding that God is sovereign and always with us, preparing our path and lighting it, if we will let Him.

It's exactly what Jesus was talking about when He said his disciples would have to pick up our crosses daily. He not only said that, but that we had to deny ourselves and follow Him; that we could not find our lives, but rather must surrender them.

I think some Christians think this means we ought to martyr ourselves daily, and that again we are disciples if we earn it. I think what Jesus is saying is that to follow Him in carrying a cross, is to follow Him in being sacrificial with your life to the benefit of others out of love, and therefore you have internalized the teaching and are a disciple. It's not simply that we wake up and lash ourselves on the back for our sinfulness - no! Not even close. It's that we wake up and say, "Father, my life is yours - how do you want me to love others today?" And not just asking, but listening and doing. Because again, the example of Jesus was that even knowing He was going to excruciating death, He submitted His will to the Father's.

To carry our cross is also to acknowledge Him in everything. God is never gone, so if our faulty understanding tells us He is, we should acknowledge Him; call out to Him, in surrender and longing, that He would guide us, and make straight the way.

Unafraid Over Wavering

Never would I have said that I am particularly susceptible to wavering with the wind. I may be indecisive, that I'll own, but easily-persuaded? Never. I never would have described myself that way. I have even unofficially (or unbeknownst to them) coached people in the art of gleaning wisdom, then making a decision for yourself! Somehow, here I sit feeling emotionally exhausted from being tossed from the left to the right, and back again in a vicious cycle. Though when I can pause long enough to get my bearings, I know how I feel; I am not wavering...then I get thrown again.

Several weeks back, God told me something very clearly: He said, "You can go headlong into what I have before you, unafraid." Unafraid. Months further back, He told me "There is no place unsafe to go with me." Nowhere unsafe with Him. Then just today I was reminded of a very similar word given to me by someone else, almost exactly a year ago; don't be afraid. That last one, - given specific to a relationship that would enter my life.

Being unafraid is a choice. Not only is it a choice not to adhere to mere logic, but it is a choice to acknowledge and trust God. To trust God beyond what seems logical is something I have been learning about for nearly a decade. It was about nine years ago that He brought me to Psalm 91, in an hour of great fear. It floored me that God was so bent on protecting me, that I could not "strike my foot against a stone," - or as I always paraphrase, stub my toe. "A thousand at your side, ten thousand at your right hand, but it will not come near you." That's my life verse. That's what's tattooed in my very own, everyday sight-line.

So I become ever increasingly familiar with flack for such a lofty belief. Pfft, God as protector! Not just protector, Refuge. And yet, I am emotionally toiled. On one hand, I have this exciting new thing that I am not afraid of, rather I want to study. Then on the other hand, there are all these voices drowning out my ability to even hear the Lord. These voices are those of logic and reason, but in this I have further realized something: fear masquerades cleverly under the guise of "logic". Logic is so respected, we could never question its validity...but I think as believers we should. The Bible is an entire book of logic-defied; the very Messiah himself is logic-defied. So much so, there are people who still believe Jesus wasn't it! Receiving Grace in spite of being undeserved, that is logic-defied. Walking unscathed through fire is logic-defied.

I find it perplexing that I struggle to find people who believe in such a big, boundless God. That I receive criticism because I would much rather trust the Lord and seek His wisdom, than put my trust in the logic of this world. No amount of logic can truly protect me, but He can. And though I know I'll never be completely rid of the skeptical questioners, I hope that they will let me walk out my faith the way God has so graciously shown me to; trusting in Him. I hope that I root down deeper in that, so as to be unwavering.

What Does Being Christian Even Mean?

I find it interesting that there are so many definitions of what it means to be Christian. There are definitions from the inside, which tend to vary widely between denominations or doctrines, and then there are the perceptions of non-Christians. I often think that being a Christian is a bizarre thing, that if I wasn't one, I myself would probably find quite strange.

However, having been raised Christian, I grew up with some ideas of what being one meant by the things that were rote. We went to church every Sunday like clockwork, my siblings and I went to private grade school, and as a family we rarely ate dinner without praying a simple prayer before hand. Thankfully, in my adolescence, in the midst of some of the great hardship of my thus far young life, God got a hold of me in a way that broke through my misconception. So while I would say I was raised Christian, there is a specific time I'd say I became one. Unfortunately that's not necessarily what I'm writing about here, now.

Growing up in it long before I understood it on a personal level, there were periods of time where I felt like I saw through a lot of things; like there were parts of being a Christian that I didn't like. I took a break from church for a while when I felt like it didn't fit what I was feeling like God is about. Looking back on that time, my faith was by no means on the rocks, but on the contrary there were many moments of deeper intimacy with God than I even feel like I've had in a while, and I'm really thankful for it. I learned a bit about how faith isn't dependent on church, which began what I think is a long journey of figuring out that being a Christian doesn't mean what so many of us think.

Admittedly, I often struggle to tell someone I'm a christian, not at all because of what it means to me, but because of whatever connotation or stigma the word may have to them.

Being a Christian doesn't mean voting republican. It isn't defined by my stance on gay marriage. It's not in my tattoos, or nullified by them. It's also not nullified by swearing, or proved by withstanding. My faith is not upheld by listening solely to Christian music. Being Christian isn't dependent on your ability to abstain from sex outside of marriage. It's not by ritually reading the Bible. It's not in evangelizing from a ladder on a street. It's definitely not holding signs on the street condemning people; it's not condemning people. It's not judging. It's not segregating. It's not obligatory. It's not hinged on saying "Grace" before a meal. It's not hinged on using the right lingo.

To be a Christian means [to me] that you have had a personal revelation of the merit and reality of the death of Christ, as it pertains to your life, and have acknowledged God as giving that gift. There are so many facets and pieces that come after that, but they do not define one's adherence to the identity of being saved by Jesus. The etymology of the word "Christian" even implies a belonging; as in slave ownership. That might sound scary to some, but I think that with the understanding of what that personal realization of the cross is, there is a feeling of indebtedness, of service which is born from thankfulness. It is wanting to serve the One who you know saved you. That is a better definition of "Christian".

No doubt, from this Christian life should come fruit; good things, but those look much different than the many stereotypes would have us believe. It means a selflessness. It is a countenance of grace. It is a life lived with and seeking wisdom. It is self-control. It's showing mercy, and not judgment. A Christian life should display love. A Christian life should display hope. It should display a relationship with God in which He allows you to partner with Him in heavenly works, not because you are doing what a Christian should do, but you have acknowledged your need for Him in your life and are open to following the example of Christ.

A Time to Get Pissed (Oh, & Guard Your Words)

Sometimes I just get pissed at the devil! Sometimes at people, too, for their perpetuating of his schemes. I'm pissed at the lies he masks as logic, which parades as wisdom! I am angry at countless attempts to steal joy from myself and others, and end it. I'm angry, and I'm ready to fight it, but more often than not I feel like my fellow brothers and sisters are not beside me. Often they are the ones buying in and regurgitating the lies...things will never change, you're not worth it, you can't get free, God doesn't do that, it can't be fixed, you cannot hope, you may never feel happiness...they go on and on. They're told in different ways; sold in different packaging, same product.

Today I heard a statement that a pastor had made that completely dripped of the world's hopelessness, defeatism, and despair - and my blood downright boiled. To claim to know Christ and live to share and serve Him - words like his should never come from a believer's lips! Now I will be among the first to admit that I am not perfect, but if I were counseling another about a detrimental circumstance in their life, I would speak of what the Lord has to offer, or keep my worldly mouth shut. 

Do you not know that your words have weight?! Do you not know that when you talk only in terms of logic without engaging the Spirit in you, you may very well be lending to or furthering the Enemy's work?

I'm beyond frustrated that this happened, - livid is probably a better word - but also beyond that, that it is likely a regular occurrence. My heart pulses and aches at such a thought. That there is freedom, blessing, and healing, yet we dare to repeat the cursing words we have heard before we would call on the Lord. Proverbs is riddled with wisdom about choosing words wisely, and even further the whole Bible is packed full of God's might and love for His people - so why this epidemic?

If you're a believer and you read this, fight with me? Guard your words, and keep those around you accountable to guarding theirs. Speak the truth we know from the Word and by the confidence we have in Jesus. Call out the Enemy, and break down his plans in the name of Jesus! Because if God is not bigger than everything, we might as well quit; stop trying to sell the Kingdom of the Resurrection to if we don't even buy it! I can get pissed at the devil all I want by myself, but it does nothing if my community and the Church don't start talking like this thing we believe in is real. 

And if you're not sure that Christ's blood covers all, don't go becoming a pastor and handing out crap advice. The world doesn't need it.

[Intentionally for discretion's sake, I left out who the pastor is and the subject of his comment.]

Sitting with the Pardon

I love Good Friday. From what I gather, I'm in a small minority. I've received a lot of negative reactions for this sentiment. I've heard the arguments that if we've been saved, why should we reawaken guilt; doesn't being sad on Good Friday crucify Jesus all over again? My answer is no. It's different than that; it's more than that, and it's certainly not reapplying guilt.

Much of the last year and of the journey of my faith in general, God has been redefining what I think about some concepts I thought I well-understood. One of the many things it's led me to believe is that I will forever be learning, absorbing, and rediscovering all of what defines my faith and, if you will, God. For as much as I am a feelings person, I'm equal in needing to think. And in all honesty, I can go too long without really thinking about the cross. Then sometimes when I do, I feel like I don't really get it. After all, it is a thing fierce and confounding:
A God who spares Himself for the sake of the undeserved to be able to come close to Him, by taking on their due judgment and thus pardoning the unholiness that is their sin! An unearthly definition that is: Grace. Without God and this story, this concept of Grace doesn't exist. It's part of why the story is so unbelievable; Grace such as this seems out of the realm of possibility.

So there's something good for us in taking one day - if only one - to be somber and sit with the idea of the Great Pardon that was bestowed to us. To contemplate the weight of such a death, and to revel in the bearing of all the brokenness of this world on one man, who was also God. If there is only one day to just feel whatever the intentional musing on the cross makes you feel, there is immense importance in allowing that.

The resurrection can only have full meaning when you take into account the death that led to it. In that one moment, the sinless Christ took on the guilt of many, and as I've heard it preached, the devil was sure he won. And many others never thought Jesus was the Messiah, especially after death. It was the best plot twist. No one expected it, and it's unfathomable; that's the beauty.

So I'm done arguing the importance and the good grit of Good Friday, because the entire thing is bittersweet and I don't think as a Christian you can ever escape that - but it's not something I want to. Living in that tension compels me toward striving to know God more and show the incomprehensible grace I was so kindly shown.

"We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body." 2 Corinthians 4:10

A New Lens For Generosity: Our High Cost

In all honesty, I used to not be a big fan of Paul. He's such a hard-hitter that I had a tough time with his writings. I think I often misunderstood his angle (which, at times who could blame me?), not usually noticing the great care and skill with which he wrote.

Not unlike getting to know a person, the more time we've spent in small group over the last year or so in his different letters, the more I've come to understand and appreciate his style. He writes intentionally, and he is humble but in a way that in the past I never saw as humility. I always thought his claims to be "the worst of sinners" were just a false-modesty, martyr thing - and it drove me nuts! What I've come to learn about Paul's writings is that he is secure in his understanding of who Jesus is and the higher standard He has called us to, but he also recognizes, deeply, that he is human and needs grace just as much as the next person. Which made me love Paul all the more! The juxtaposition and tension of chasing after a holy, serving life, and being human and weak; as he says in Second Corinthians, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness."

I've come to love trying to wrap my brain around Paul's concepts.

Twice while recently reading First Corinthians in small group we came across an interesting phrase that, for growing up in the church, I had never been shown in such a way that it struck me. It has been bouncing around in my mind for a few months like a pinball effortlessly floats between the levers. As I like to think is the point of internalizing the Word, it has been altering the way I look at a lot of things, particularly Generosity.

The phrase that Paul uses in two places in this letter, is this:

"You were bought at a cost."

The first time I read this, for a day or so I couldn't get my mind off of it. We were bought at our price, though undeserving. We were paid-in-full, for the cost of our debt to sin; our slavery to it. It stood out to me that it did not say we were purchased at a bargain. Though we are not truly valued at the high price [as some translations put it] that was paid, we were worth that much.

Then I thought, what does this speak to us about our generosity? To follow in the footsteps of Christ, we are to be generous beyond what is reasonable. I was so struck by that! And not just our generosity with our finances, but with our time and resources. We were bought at a cost; our debt was bought by one who would not come calling for repayment. How should that look as it trickles into our lives?

Don't Knock What You Haven't Tried

Short-term missions gets a bad rap. Having participated in several different types - one of which I didn't know was even considered "short-term" until I returned from it - of these trips, I understand where the rationale comes from, but also chalk it up to being outsiders.

The trick about these trips is that they serve some sort of basic need at the same time as growing the individual who is "serving" there. I do put this in quotes because I returned far from jaded but eyes opened to the reality that it's not everything you think it will be before you go. Someone tried to tell me this and I only got offended at the attempt to parse and condense my experience before it even occurred! I, of course, could not recognize this untimely gesture as a valid point until after I had had the experience myself.

My faith became real to me on a week long building trip with my youth group the summer before my freshman year of high school. I never admitted, or even really knew that I hadn't fully understood what this whole Jesus thing was about; not in my heart of hearts, anyway. I got something out of the message of the program that we put on for the local community we were there to serve. Now, I don't mean to advocate for missions trips to save the people on them, but my story is one of a life changed by something so simple. Being a punk of a fifteen-going-on-sixteen-year-old, I needed to get beyond my suburban bubble and see how others lived, and when we were telling them about how they need Jesus, I realized I need Him too.

Youth With a Mission (aka YWAM) was an experience of personal growth on a whole other level. From my naive and loosely-factual knowledge of the point of a Discipleship Training School, I thought somewhere along the line I'd just get comfortable with street evangelism and someone would give their life to Jesus...even though street evangelism how it was (and still is) in my mind is far from who I am and what I would do. When it came down to it, after the fact I can say that the most influential and important part of that trip was going out into the world and seeing others; knowing that they need love. And in seeing them, loving them in just a second because they exist and they need it. That will change your life forever.

Seeing the world will change your life forever.

So even though a large part of why I didn't go back was because I didn't feel comfortable attempting to raise support again, I would absolutely support someone I knew going on to that experience because you never know what will come of it. They might go on to help end human trafficking, or they might spend a few years as an aimless career-wanderer blogging about...stuff. But I still hold that it is absolutely worth it.

I've said before, and I'll say it again, there is incredible value in getting out in the abyss and looking beyond the end of our proverbial nose to see that there's others, and they're beautiful. We find that the things that we are so preoccupied with don't even begin to matter. Suddenly, that new iPhone or the thing whose purpose is unknown on slight discount at Target are just not worth it. Prostitution becomes not a joke but a painful reality. Food standards. The ability to live for your dreams! I hear a lot of talk about privilege, and one hell of a way to shatter all of our ideas about how we don't have enough, is to go see how little others live with and on.

And this is not to say no one on the street has ever been brought to Jesus through these kinds of trips, but that there is invaluable experience to be had in getting beyond your borders and seeing what else is out there. That the transformation of simply seeing other people, and trying to love them for a second in the scheme of your life, makes an impact. Like anything else, we may not fully be able to quantify that impact, but we need to stop perpetuating the baseless falsehood that it's meaningless.

The Integral Intersection of Our Two Mandates

From time to time, I toil with the questions of what this faith I adhere to is really about. Is just being in love with the Lord enough? What about when there's still garbage in our lives? Garbage isn't beautiful, it certainly isn't pure and so, obviously, not attractive! I've spent pretty much my entire life in the Church, and let me tell you there are plenty of people spewing a lot of garbage who profess to be image-bearers of Christ.

My spiritual gift is not evangelism; rather, I should say it's not my most prominent. I'm someone who thinks if you don't want to hear it, all I'm going to do is more damage than good. But I'm also skeptical that "loving" the Lord and just being a good person is the point. Yet, I think that we can put evangelizing on a pedestal as our primary life goal, and I don't think that's it, either. Somehow the great commission has been emphasized so strongly that we miss so much else that Jesus taught and the big picture of what it's about. So I'm somewhere in thinking, I need to sift some stuff out of myself, still. I still have stuff come out of me that's not very Jesus. (My new favorite phrase, "That's not very Jesus!")

I fall somewhere between a few groups of thinkers that I see among Christians, about what our focus is. I used to think it is different for everyone, and I think it will look different for everyone, but I also think there's some things God wants in our lives and our limitations and over-simplifications can put Him in a box. And sometimes that box goes on a shelf, maybe collects dust until we need to pull it out as an identifier.

What I mean to exemplify is that I think there is a balance between the two common grooves we fall into, and I think both are really integral to this faith. To expound upon something my pastor put very well a few weeks ago when speaking on James 2:14-20, knowing God's love should produce natural good fruit. If we really know Jesus, that should be what comes out of us on the regular. That doesn't mean saying loudly from a ladder on a street corner that fornicators will go to hell. It doesn't mean accentuating someone else's shortfalls because from our high and lofty perch of righteousness and loving the Lord, we see these sore thumb. Enter my new favorite phrase: what about that is Jesus?

To be an image-bearer of Jesus; a reflection of Him, you have to know Him and what He's about. (Again, I speak this just as much to myself to consider, ponder, and internalize as I do to anyone else.) Unless I've been totally misguided in my understanding of the Bible, Jesus was about reconciliation, healing, love, mercy, and freedom...not condemnation, oppression, hate, and perpetuating brokenness. The only people Jesus ever publicly called out were the Pharisees; the religious people who weren't truly living godly lives.

To ever attract someone to Jesus, we should be like Him. Loving the Lord is enough if it actually bears fruit in your life. If all it means is you go to church and worship...I'm not God, but I'm guessing He wants more for your life! Believe me, I am in the category of being awe-inspired by God, but then what does that awe do? And if there's still junk coming from you, it might be time to stop loudly professing your love for the Lord until you figure out what that really means for you. Part of what I think it means is that you know something so good, so sweet, and so life-changing; heart-changing, that when the time comes to speak of it you're not in doubt and you're not afraid; your heart will leap from knowing the answer, and from the hope that someone else will know it.

A truth with which one could argue and we all know is: but no one is perfect. Yes, we have a sinful nature, but as Paul says in Romans, "Should we then go on sinning that grace may abound? No!" Also, in Philippians I think this is part of what he refers to as forgetting what's behind and pressing on to take hold of that for which Christ took hold of us; to be made holy! We're not yet holy, but being made holy. Our unholiness, our sin is what separated us from God. The cross tore the veil, brought us back! Enabled us to come close to God again.

Without the implication of working our way to salvation, I believe there is some truth to needing to keep ourselves in check. It's like swimming against the current. Our nature wants to take us back, and wants to set back the work God has done in our lives - and that's where the lie is; it cannot be undone! Though, that doesn't mean that we don't have to turn away our sinful nature, and press on.

So we may need to weed some things out of our life to be more like Christ. We can be inspired by the beauty and grace of God to tears, but we still have to decide what that means in and for our lives. A rotten tree does not bear good and lasting fruit.

The great commission is...great, but the greatest command is to love the Lord, the second being to love your neighbor as yourself. Our love needs to be for the Lord and from the Lord, in order for our evangelism - a fancy, sometimes scary word for sharing the message of God's love and goodness - to have impact. We need to know what we have and that it's good, and live it, in order to share it. That's what Christianity is, no two ways about it.