Social media gives us a lot of different avenues and outlets for expressing ourselves.
We can portray ourselves as all manner of political, spiritual, creative or intellectual. We can emphasize our job, our kids, our community involvement or all three. We can show the world a version of ourselves that may or may not be authentic, but more than likely, we will make sure it's a version others will like.
I've been struggling this weekend with people asking me to 'explain myself' through social media outlets. I've been asked to write an online bio for another blog I'll be writing for soon (more on that later), submit a cover letter explaining my passion for a potential job offer, and share my thoughts on the structure of my church's young adults gathering via an online survey. Most of these are not writing prompts that require a 10 page response, but I could definitely give each of them at least that much if they let me.
Cramming all the thoughts, passions and goals of my 5'6" self into 250 words or less is difficult. I'd rather just talk to someone. Even if I only said 250 words, at least they would hear the eagerness in my voice, see the anticipation in my eyes, maybe even feel the motivation in my handshake. But alas, Eat. Pray. Plank, Facebook and Twitter are my platforms and I must find a way to convey all of this into something you can try to understand in only a few minutes. No pressure.
My plight is not an uncommon one. Political bloggers, foodies, pastors, people who work for advertising at United Airlines and Donald Trump all try to achieve a similar level of transference in just a few moments of your time. Some do this very well. Others should just stop. I won't name names for either category, but I will say that as our world becomes increasingly instant, we have to be on the lookout for responsible platforms and realize that they take time to establish.
Let me explain. In my Religious Epistemology class (a one-night-a-week gathering where we discussed how we know what we know about religion and constantly asked, Are you sure?), we explored the characteristics of a Responsible Christian, an Irresponsible Christian, a Responsible Atheist and an Irresponsible Atheist. Responsible Christians and Atheists know why they are Christians and Atheists and if you ask, they can tell you. You might not like it, but they'll be able to give you a reason that, hopefully, is at least structurally sound. Irresponsible ones...well, they get caught up in a 'cause' and don't know why. They tend to be sheep following a blind shepherd and this is why political campaign managers like to share videos on Twitter of Irresponsible Voters who favor their opponent. By showing that their opponent's followers are dumb, they can somehow prove that their opponent is also dumb. Sometimes this works, sometimes it doesn't.
The point is, we all have an opportunity to be Responsible or Irresponsible (fill in the blank)s. Christians, moms, feminists, accountants, cat lovers. Each of us has the opportunity, wherever we are and whatever we're doing in life, to be able to back up why we do what we do OR to defend our merely surface-level existence with 'just because'. I have friends on Facebook who have been posting some articles lately that I fundamentally disagree with, but I rejoice that they express themselves on a Responsible Platform, not a foundation of sand. I'd prefer coffee with a Responsible Socialist friend over an Irresponsible Evangelical any day of the week.
If you take nothing else away from this post, understand that being a Responsible (fill in the blank) takes time. There's a reason that successful businesswomen take the time to get an MBA, that engaged couples go through marriage counselling and that following a recipe requires prep time. And it's not unlike the reason that Jesus didn't start His ministry until He was 33. If you're trying to start something, trying to be someone, trying to go somewhere, take the time to make sure you're putting your best foot forward and do not let the necessary process burn you out. If you're wondering what to do and how to express yourself during that process, I would say to simply be honest. Because an Irresponsible Christian does about as much good for the Kingdom of God as a Responsible Atheist, but I would argue that an Honest Christian is closest to the heart of God.
Monday, 22 February 2016
Sunday, 14 February 2016
The Long Haul
It's Lent already. Wasn't I just writing about Advent? How the time flies. I was baptized on Palm Sunday of 2014 so Holy Week is a big anniversary for me. It's always a really happy time at the beginning of the week, but by the end of it, it's the worst week of the year. Seriously. Good Friday, every single year, is the worst night of my year. There's no comparison. Unfortunately, it's also (usually) the most intimate conversation I have with Jesus all year, so each year I spend Lent preparing for that fateful conversation at the foot of the Cross.
This tradition of talking to my crucified Christ began when I was a junior in high school. Pastor Trey gave us all red paint brushes at the Good Friday service and during the last song, we each went to the altar and painted a giant red streak on the white sheet draped over the cross. By the end of the service, there was no white left. It was a really humbling moment. After the church was mostly empty, I went back up to the altar, sat down under the cross and wrapped my arms around that red sheet. I got covered in paint but I hardly noticed. If there was ever a moment that I believe I wept bitterly, that was it. I can't remember what was going on in my life to cause such an emotional response to the Cross, but I do remember that sitting there, I promised my Jesus I would always come back to the foot of the Cross every Good Friday. Like the women who followed Him all the way to Cavalry, I would be there no matter what kind of shape I was in, every year. And most importantly, I would allow myself to completely drown in the sorrow and despair of His crucifixion. Every year. Once a year. On Good Friday.
And that's pretty much how it's been every Holy Week since. It's painful, it's horrible, it's ugly cry face on steroids. But each year, I let my heart and soul open up and completely give in to all manner of pain and sorrow that comes with the death of my Jesus. Some years, I have no words; others I have quite a lot. Last year, there was a very serious moment where I all but shouted that He should just come down, it wasn't worth it. And even today I can hear His still small voice saying, "No, dear one. I want to do this." And then, like a candle being blown out, He was gone. And in the middle of a deathly silent Catholic church, my whisper penetrated like a pin dropping. Jesus, come back.
As I'm getting closer to this year's Holy Week, I've been preparing for my annual encounter with Jesus at the Cross. What is it going to look like this year? It dawned on me recently that it might be even uglier this year because I think my life (my behavior, at least) is in a much darker place than it was last year. I've been trying to 'fix' certain things about myself. Trying to be a better Christian. Trying to be a better friend. Feeling like I've failed at both. Today I had the picture in my mind of returning to my place at the Cross and saying, Well, Jesus. I'm back. And I'm actually in worse shape than last year.
But today at church I was reminded that Righteousness, Holiness and Redemption are not things I strive for, they are a person. When I strive for righteousness on my own, that is not the righteousness of Christ, but self-righteousness. I am trying so very hard to make myself better, to make it work, but Philippians 3:8-9 tells us that righteousness comes only from God on the basis of faith, faith that also happens to come only from God. This tells me that righteousness and redemption are not achieved, they are given, granted and become slowly integrated into my life when my faith (the faith He gives me) sticks around for the long haul. In this way, righteousness can often involve a lot of waiting.
So why am I surprised that I'm in not much better shape this year than I was last year? This is why the Bible says to fix our eyes on Jesus and that He is the author and perfecter of our faith. Both of these phrases imply a process. Sanctification, to my chagrin, does not happen overnight. If fixing my eyes on Jesus is a process and His perfecting my faith is a process, why in the world, in fact how dare I demand that He take care of my struggles as of yesterday? This is not going to be a sprint right out of the gate; it's going to demand a steady pace over a great distance. That's why Hebrews 12 tells us to run the race marked out for us with perseverance. If it was only 100 yards, it wouldn't require much perseverance, now would it?
So if anybody else is going through Lent hoping to become a 'better person' between now and Holy Week, just stop. You can't make yourself better. Only Jesus can. And it takes time. Sometimes a lot. And if come Good Friday, you and I find ourselves at the foot of the Cross in the exact same emotional and spiritual place that we were last year, that is okay. If we're in even worse shape than we were last year, that is okay, too. Because as long as we keep faithfully returning to the foot of the Cross, we are exactly where we were created to be and who we were created to be with, regardless of what we see in the mirror.
This tradition of talking to my crucified Christ began when I was a junior in high school. Pastor Trey gave us all red paint brushes at the Good Friday service and during the last song, we each went to the altar and painted a giant red streak on the white sheet draped over the cross. By the end of the service, there was no white left. It was a really humbling moment. After the church was mostly empty, I went back up to the altar, sat down under the cross and wrapped my arms around that red sheet. I got covered in paint but I hardly noticed. If there was ever a moment that I believe I wept bitterly, that was it. I can't remember what was going on in my life to cause such an emotional response to the Cross, but I do remember that sitting there, I promised my Jesus I would always come back to the foot of the Cross every Good Friday. Like the women who followed Him all the way to Cavalry, I would be there no matter what kind of shape I was in, every year. And most importantly, I would allow myself to completely drown in the sorrow and despair of His crucifixion. Every year. Once a year. On Good Friday.
And that's pretty much how it's been every Holy Week since. It's painful, it's horrible, it's ugly cry face on steroids. But each year, I let my heart and soul open up and completely give in to all manner of pain and sorrow that comes with the death of my Jesus. Some years, I have no words; others I have quite a lot. Last year, there was a very serious moment where I all but shouted that He should just come down, it wasn't worth it. And even today I can hear His still small voice saying, "No, dear one. I want to do this." And then, like a candle being blown out, He was gone. And in the middle of a deathly silent Catholic church, my whisper penetrated like a pin dropping. Jesus, come back.
As I'm getting closer to this year's Holy Week, I've been preparing for my annual encounter with Jesus at the Cross. What is it going to look like this year? It dawned on me recently that it might be even uglier this year because I think my life (my behavior, at least) is in a much darker place than it was last year. I've been trying to 'fix' certain things about myself. Trying to be a better Christian. Trying to be a better friend. Feeling like I've failed at both. Today I had the picture in my mind of returning to my place at the Cross and saying, Well, Jesus. I'm back. And I'm actually in worse shape than last year.
But today at church I was reminded that Righteousness, Holiness and Redemption are not things I strive for, they are a person. When I strive for righteousness on my own, that is not the righteousness of Christ, but self-righteousness. I am trying so very hard to make myself better, to make it work, but Philippians 3:8-9 tells us that righteousness comes only from God on the basis of faith, faith that also happens to come only from God. This tells me that righteousness and redemption are not achieved, they are given, granted and become slowly integrated into my life when my faith (the faith He gives me) sticks around for the long haul. In this way, righteousness can often involve a lot of waiting.
So why am I surprised that I'm in not much better shape this year than I was last year? This is why the Bible says to fix our eyes on Jesus and that He is the author and perfecter of our faith. Both of these phrases imply a process. Sanctification, to my chagrin, does not happen overnight. If fixing my eyes on Jesus is a process and His perfecting my faith is a process, why in the world, in fact how dare I demand that He take care of my struggles as of yesterday? This is not going to be a sprint right out of the gate; it's going to demand a steady pace over a great distance. That's why Hebrews 12 tells us to run the race marked out for us with perseverance. If it was only 100 yards, it wouldn't require much perseverance, now would it?
So if anybody else is going through Lent hoping to become a 'better person' between now and Holy Week, just stop. You can't make yourself better. Only Jesus can. And it takes time. Sometimes a lot. And if come Good Friday, you and I find ourselves at the foot of the Cross in the exact same emotional and spiritual place that we were last year, that is okay. If we're in even worse shape than we were last year, that is okay, too. Because as long as we keep faithfully returning to the foot of the Cross, we are exactly where we were created to be and who we were created to be with, regardless of what we see in the mirror.
Friday, 5 February 2016
Teach a Man Not to Clean Fish...
Waking up to bitter people on Facebook is not my idea of a good Friday.
My brother gave me a calendar-diary last year that has a different question for every day of the year for 5 years. Every year on January 8, July 4th, and December 1, I answer the same question I answered last January 8, July 4th and December 1. One of last week's question was 'What do you want to forget?'. It struck me that if I wanted to forget it, why would I write it down so I could reread it every year? Then I got on Facebook and saw no less than 4 people 'honoring' a painful anniversary. Not necessarily a death in the family, mind you, but situations where someone had hurt them. One status (paraphrased) read something that sounded like this: 'A year ago you broke my heart, destroyed me forever and taught me not to care anymore. But I'm here to tell you that moved on, I am a stronger person and I will never, ever care about people like you again.'
Admittedly, I desperately wanted to comment, Really? You moved on, huh? Tell me about that.
But this girl didn't need me to remind her of her journey through this painful memory. It was still with her like it happened yesterday. Why do we dwell on these horrible, painful relationships? Why do we hold on to hurt? For years? I want to suggest a very simple, cut and dry answer. I think we hold on to hurt because we think so little of ourselves, we assume that's where we belong.
If we know who we are in Christ, we know that we were not created to abide in pain. Christ accepts the broken pieces of our hearts, but then he puts them back together. As one of my pastors at Zootown used to say, He cleans His fish after He catches them. When Jesus opens His arms to us messy and hurting with ugly cry face, He never, EVER intends to leave us that way. So why do we insist on staying that way? How many times are we Barabbas on the steps of Pilate's palace, watching them take our chains off and put them on Jesus and we shout out, 'No! I deserve those chains! Give them back to me!' Because we don't believe Him when He says IT IS FINISHED.
I didn't unfriend this girl when I read her post. I tried to be 'that good Christian', but my prayer definitely began with 'Father, why do I have to stay friends with this person? She is such a downer on my news feed.' A few possible answers that came to mind were God's simple longing to hear me talk to Him about it (because I firmly believe God will put opportunities in our lives to force us to pray if He knows the only way we'll talk to Him is when something is literally standing in our way) or better yet, to provide a chance for Him to act in response to prayer. 2016 is only 36 days old, but I'm learning now more than ever that God has so much waiting for us if we would only ask Him for it. ASK and you will receive. SEEK and you will find. These are not suggestions, you guys. If we honestly ask Him to soften our hearts toward others, that is not a prayer I see God turning down. I think we can confidently say He would give us that every single time. Similarly, when we ask God to comfort the brokenhearted, to heal the pain of the past, to clean His fish, He is sure to deliver. Because sanctification, redemption and healing are His nature, not just towards me, but towards all his children.
It is never, ever my job to clean God's fish, especially to my standards of 'clean'. Jesus took that job while He was on the cross - He finishes His good work in His good time in a manner that is on no level determined by me. I don't have the right to selfishly do His job any more than I have to criticize my friend for her bitterness. But on the off chance He ever does ask me to be a vessel for comfort or an instrument of healing, I'm really, really glad He gave us a manual in His Word. Cleaning fish is a messy business and if you can do anything else with your life, I recommend that.
My brother gave me a calendar-diary last year that has a different question for every day of the year for 5 years. Every year on January 8, July 4th, and December 1, I answer the same question I answered last January 8, July 4th and December 1. One of last week's question was 'What do you want to forget?'. It struck me that if I wanted to forget it, why would I write it down so I could reread it every year? Then I got on Facebook and saw no less than 4 people 'honoring' a painful anniversary. Not necessarily a death in the family, mind you, but situations where someone had hurt them. One status (paraphrased) read something that sounded like this: 'A year ago you broke my heart, destroyed me forever and taught me not to care anymore. But I'm here to tell you that moved on, I am a stronger person and I will never, ever care about people like you again.'
Admittedly, I desperately wanted to comment, Really? You moved on, huh? Tell me about that.
But this girl didn't need me to remind her of her journey through this painful memory. It was still with her like it happened yesterday. Why do we dwell on these horrible, painful relationships? Why do we hold on to hurt? For years? I want to suggest a very simple, cut and dry answer. I think we hold on to hurt because we think so little of ourselves, we assume that's where we belong.
If we know who we are in Christ, we know that we were not created to abide in pain. Christ accepts the broken pieces of our hearts, but then he puts them back together. As one of my pastors at Zootown used to say, He cleans His fish after He catches them. When Jesus opens His arms to us messy and hurting with ugly cry face, He never, EVER intends to leave us that way. So why do we insist on staying that way? How many times are we Barabbas on the steps of Pilate's palace, watching them take our chains off and put them on Jesus and we shout out, 'No! I deserve those chains! Give them back to me!' Because we don't believe Him when He says IT IS FINISHED.
I didn't unfriend this girl when I read her post. I tried to be 'that good Christian', but my prayer definitely began with 'Father, why do I have to stay friends with this person? She is such a downer on my news feed.' A few possible answers that came to mind were God's simple longing to hear me talk to Him about it (because I firmly believe God will put opportunities in our lives to force us to pray if He knows the only way we'll talk to Him is when something is literally standing in our way) or better yet, to provide a chance for Him to act in response to prayer. 2016 is only 36 days old, but I'm learning now more than ever that God has so much waiting for us if we would only ask Him for it. ASK and you will receive. SEEK and you will find. These are not suggestions, you guys. If we honestly ask Him to soften our hearts toward others, that is not a prayer I see God turning down. I think we can confidently say He would give us that every single time. Similarly, when we ask God to comfort the brokenhearted, to heal the pain of the past, to clean His fish, He is sure to deliver. Because sanctification, redemption and healing are His nature, not just towards me, but towards all his children.
It is never, ever my job to clean God's fish, especially to my standards of 'clean'. Jesus took that job while He was on the cross - He finishes His good work in His good time in a manner that is on no level determined by me. I don't have the right to selfishly do His job any more than I have to criticize my friend for her bitterness. But on the off chance He ever does ask me to be a vessel for comfort or an instrument of healing, I'm really, really glad He gave us a manual in His Word. Cleaning fish is a messy business and if you can do anything else with your life, I recommend that.
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