Recently, I shared a post on Facebook that appeared on a page I follow. The post was a series of simple, yet clever comic panes depicting how depression can affect an individual.
As someone who has been diagnosed with depression, I honestly thought nothing of it until I received a few, for lack of a softer word, shocking messages from friends reacting to the post. The consensus was that something must have happened, that something was wrong with me.
Although I cherish the concern, the truth is that I am perfectly fine. I am perfectly fine, and I am struggling with depression.
Yes, the "and" was intentional.
I guess, since I've dealt with it for so long, understanding how depression works is something I take for granted. It's human nature to seek the source of our problems with the hopes of solving them, and therein lies the fundamental issue with the concept.
As hard as it may be to grasp, chronic depression doesn't derive from tragedy. Nothing has to "happen" for it to take over.
That's not to say there aren't triggers that can be the cause. But, in general, searching for causation is a dead end, and I think that's what frustrates people who don't commonly struggle with it. Unfortunately, depression is just as difficult to explain as it is to comprehend, which is why the instinctive response it to hide it.
Depression is like an ache that creeps into our bones and roots itself in the marrow. It resides in the hollow places within us that we can't explain. It echoes in our heads like white noise drowning out logic. Depression is physical and it's mental. It can last seconds, or it can last days. The hardest part about depression is that even those of us who have it really don't understand it.
"What's wrong?" is a vastly intimidating question to someone with depression because, while we are well aware that "I don't know" isn't a socially acceptable response, it is, in most cases, all we have to offer.
As a Christian, things become further complicated for me when trying to get others to understand. "You just need to give it to God" is a favorite response followed closely by "Have you tried praying about it?" Yes, I have tried praying (quite a bit) about it, and after beating myself up over it for a long time, I've come to the conclusion that my depression has no correlation whatsoever to my faith or lack thereof.
In other words, Christians who struggle with depression are not any less of a child of God than those who don't, and if someone tells you otherwise, punch them in the face. Don't really do that...well, only if you want to.
But in all seriousness, that theology is twisted and baseless and set me back quite a bit in my personal struggles. 1 Peter 5:6-7 says, "Humble yourselves, therefore, under God's mighty hand, that he may lift you up in due time. Cast all your anxiety on him, for he cares for you."
I must've missed the part where God said, "Humble yourselves, therefore, that ye may be without sadness, anxiety, fear, and/or any combination of the three forever and ever. Amen."
I don't know what scripture everyone else is reading, but "Your anxiety" sounds a lot like God is acknowledging that you will struggle. He didn't intend for depression to be exclusive to non-believers, and He certainly didn't promise immunity from the hardships of life. Don't get me wrong; there is, indeed, power in prayer, and I have, without question, felt the relief and peace of spirit because of that.
However, to insinuate that something as overarching and common as depression is an indication of a lack of faith in God is simply ignorant.
As difficult as that is to believe for those of us who frequently experience it, there's no shame in seeking help. The best medicine is, truthfully, just talking it out, whether that's with God in prayer or with a doctor or friends and family.
There is no pot of gold at the end of a monochromatic rainbow awaiting discovery, no cure in a laboratory somewhere. We're simply wired to be sad sometimes. And as weird as it is, that's okay.
Just realize that there's not something inherently wrong with you, and if you're lucky enough to never have experienced depression, understand that being there for someone who is struggling is the absolute greatest thing you can do for them.
For such a complicated thing like depression, the solution is beautifully simple.
We just need love.
Showing posts with label God. Show all posts
Showing posts with label God. Show all posts
Friday, June 19, 2015
Thursday, January 15, 2015
An Open Letter to the World
Sometimes, an apology is the only, albeit difficult solution. That being said, I am sorry, truly and deeply sorry.
I'm sorry that we've allowed stereotypes to shape our views in ways we always said we wouldn't. I'm sorry we have become a people synonymous with "judgmental," with "hypocritical," with "hateful."
I'm sorry that we've embraced a tainted culture and that our congregations distort scripture under the guidance of flawed leaders. I'm sorry that we have become an inward-focused, sycophantic clique under those very same leaders who are more concerned with their social status than the well-being of their fellow man.
I'm sorry that we don't practice what we preach, that we knowingly go against our own doctrine. I'm sorry that we've discounted and undermined the message of our Savior to the point where no one wants it anymore, to where you don't want it anymore. I'm sorry that we've allowed the unthinkable to happen; we've allowed a life-giving Hope to become something undesirable to those who need it most.
I'm not going to make excuses for our actions or lean against the cosmic crutch of "human nature" to absolve our people of the guilt we should feel for our actions. If darkness is the absence of light, then we have succumbed to that void, embraced its chill, and fallen silent and still to its power. The light that should shine through us has been dimmed and dulled to a grain-sized glimmer of a reflection of a spark beneath layers of inexcusable behavior.
We have created a religious autocracy to replace our community of prayer, and in doing so, we've dripped poison into the remedy we were created to be. Worse, we've put the poison in an attractive glass, filled it to the brim, and tipped it against the lips of your children, our children, our future.
We're more focused on trying to make sin a quantifiable equation to be multiplied and added and ranked than we are introducing people to the One who takes sin away, the eternal minus sign. We've become sin-seeking missiles trained on sexuality and abortion and whatever hot button the conservative agenda is currently pushing. We're trained to obliterate our targets rather than to love them.
We've perpetuated a sickness in the Middle East with the wrongful damnation of a people as a whole rather than the radicals that besmirch their existence, enforcing their doctrine through violence and a deep, unrelenting hatred of their own. We've neglected to aid a hurting people, we've neglected to mourn their dead, and our knees have yet to hit the floor in prayer for their relief.
We've aided in the erection of walls segregating faces of our brothers and sisters based on their complexion. These walls stretch higher everyday, the mortar thickening at the expense of unborn children whose tiny, undeveloped ears have already been exposed to gunshots echoing off the walls of their mothers' wombs, echoes of an unfounded hatred.
And it runs deeper than black versus white, east versus west, "religious" versus secular. There is an infection, a curse, an evil in the lifeblood of our people that has left us vulnerable to the petrification of our hearts. Where believers once met the world with unyielding love and a message of unprejudiced hope, they now cling to cold, bitter stone.
As sad as it is, rarely do Christians represent the former half of their title. So, for what it's worth, I am truly and deeply sorry.
If you don't take anything else away from this apology, please don't look to us. We will only fail you.
Look to Him.
I'm sorry that we've allowed stereotypes to shape our views in ways we always said we wouldn't. I'm sorry we have become a people synonymous with "judgmental," with "hypocritical," with "hateful."
I'm sorry that we've embraced a tainted culture and that our congregations distort scripture under the guidance of flawed leaders. I'm sorry that we have become an inward-focused, sycophantic clique under those very same leaders who are more concerned with their social status than the well-being of their fellow man.
I'm sorry that we don't practice what we preach, that we knowingly go against our own doctrine. I'm sorry that we've discounted and undermined the message of our Savior to the point where no one wants it anymore, to where you don't want it anymore. I'm sorry that we've allowed the unthinkable to happen; we've allowed a life-giving Hope to become something undesirable to those who need it most.
I'm not going to make excuses for our actions or lean against the cosmic crutch of "human nature" to absolve our people of the guilt we should feel for our actions. If darkness is the absence of light, then we have succumbed to that void, embraced its chill, and fallen silent and still to its power. The light that should shine through us has been dimmed and dulled to a grain-sized glimmer of a reflection of a spark beneath layers of inexcusable behavior.
We have created a religious autocracy to replace our community of prayer, and in doing so, we've dripped poison into the remedy we were created to be. Worse, we've put the poison in an attractive glass, filled it to the brim, and tipped it against the lips of your children, our children, our future.
We're more focused on trying to make sin a quantifiable equation to be multiplied and added and ranked than we are introducing people to the One who takes sin away, the eternal minus sign. We've become sin-seeking missiles trained on sexuality and abortion and whatever hot button the conservative agenda is currently pushing. We're trained to obliterate our targets rather than to love them.
We've perpetuated a sickness in the Middle East with the wrongful damnation of a people as a whole rather than the radicals that besmirch their existence, enforcing their doctrine through violence and a deep, unrelenting hatred of their own. We've neglected to aid a hurting people, we've neglected to mourn their dead, and our knees have yet to hit the floor in prayer for their relief.
We've aided in the erection of walls segregating faces of our brothers and sisters based on their complexion. These walls stretch higher everyday, the mortar thickening at the expense of unborn children whose tiny, undeveloped ears have already been exposed to gunshots echoing off the walls of their mothers' wombs, echoes of an unfounded hatred.
And it runs deeper than black versus white, east versus west, "religious" versus secular. There is an infection, a curse, an evil in the lifeblood of our people that has left us vulnerable to the petrification of our hearts. Where believers once met the world with unyielding love and a message of unprejudiced hope, they now cling to cold, bitter stone.
As sad as it is, rarely do Christians represent the former half of their title. So, for what it's worth, I am truly and deeply sorry.
If you don't take anything else away from this apology, please don't look to us. We will only fail you.
Look to Him.
Tuesday, November 18, 2014
A New Endeavor
"There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens."
Ecclesiastes 3:1
Molly and I have undergone a pretty intense "season" of change these past months. We're talking riding-a-wild-stallion-bareback-through-a-minefield intense season of change.
Besides getting married (which short of giving your life to Jesus, is just about the most world-altering thing you'll ever experience), we became first-time homebuyers. And no, rumor mill, mommy and daddy didn't buy it for us. We did, indeed, purchase the house with, wait for it, our own money.
Lately, our priority list consists of figuring out what's on our priority list. Friends have turned on us, goals that were once important to us have been put on the backburner, and to top it all off, we both recently just left our jobs on less-than-ideal terms with our previous employer.
Lately, our priority list consists of figuring out what's on our priority list. Friends have turned on us, goals that were once important to us have been put on the backburner, and to top it all off, we both recently just left our jobs on less-than-ideal terms with our previous employer.
On the Holmes and Rahe Stress Scale (a life unit scale regarded by the medical community as the best predictor for stress-related illness), marriage, loss of friends or loved ones, purchasing a home, and changing jobs are all among the top 20 most stressful events that can happen to an individual. Believe me when I tell you, we didn't need a group of psychologists to tell us that. We've felt the effects of every last "life unit" from each of those events.
But you know what the psychologists didn't bank on? They didn't factor in an awesome God coaching us through it all. And you know what else? We're hanging in there, and we're doing a pretty dang good job of it.
Despite the months of searching, despite a lender committing mortgage fraud and causing our first contract to fall through, despite saving every last penny we could only to turn around and spend a nauseating amount of money on a down payment, God allowed us to walk away with the keys to a beautiful, affordable home.
Despite having my integrity questioned by a corrupt workplace full of "cookie cutter Christians," despite raising money to help people in need only to find out they were blowing it on new cars and vacations, despite serving faithfully with leadership I could never fully trust, God provided me with a new, better paying job that provides enough for Molly to go back to school. God has taken away our misery and replaced it with happiness and more time together as a family.
And despite being told, time and again, how we were moving too fast, despite being told that getting married young was a bad decision, despite being told (literally) that "you will most likely not make it," despite the naysayers, the doubters, the "friends" waiting and hoping for us to fail, God has taken care of us. God is taking care of us. God is growing us. God is with us.
That's all I could ever ask or hope for, to know that my God has my back regardless of what anyone else, friend, coworker, boss, family member, or otherwise have to say about it.
Change is defined by Webster's Dictionary simply as "to become different."
Through it all, that's what Molly and I have done. That's what we're continuing to do. Heck, being different is what God calls us to do. When seasons of change come, it isn't easy by any vastly exaggerated stretch of the imagination. Staying where we are may be easier, remaining stagnant may feel safer, but God's will is so much better, so much more rewarding than any risk we could ever encounter.
Whether we want to admit it or not, when life demands change, when God demands change, it must be unprejudiced and wholehearted. We can't always plan for it. Sometimes, change takes whatever it is you thought you knew or understood and throws it in your face, demeans you. Sometimes, change holds you down and forces you to rethink your priorities, forces you to come to grips with the fact that things simply cannot stay the same.
And we aren't staying the same, we won't stay the same. If that means leaving behind a bad job or friends who won't grow up, so be it. But every new day is a gift from God, a new endeavor that we have to choose to take on, to adapt and grow with.
Don't waste it.
Labels:
change,
Ecclesiastes,
endeavor,
friends,
God,
homeowners,
I can't even,
life,
literally,
Molly,
new job,
season,
stress
Saturday, October 11, 2014
Excuses, motivation, and some other junk
"Above all else, to thine ownself be true."
- Shakespeare
Most of us grew up with some form or assemblage of these words echoed through parents, teachers, preachers, and friends. We've heard stories, read books, and watched movies where the protagonist emerges triumphant despite wave after wave of opposing forces trying to convince them to deny a part of themselves.
We've foolishly absorbed this information as if it was nothing more than an inspirational pick-me-up for the soul. Our generation is locked in this purgatorial stasis where we acknowledge the necessity to be true to ourselves, but yet, we consistently neglect to do so. We treat self-actualization like a period of rapid ascension into adulthood or some post-mid-life enlightenment designed to kick in at a predetermined moment in our lives, but it's not. It was never meant to be like that.
Owning up to who you are as an individual, the core of your metaphysical existence is not an event contained by any time-based parameters. It's a process that you have to take part in, choose to take part in everyday. And I say choose because it's 100% your decision who you are and who you want to become.
This isn't some motivational speech. This is your life we're talking about.
Stop trying to define yourself through your friends. There's an old saying that goes, "If you hang out with chickens, you're going to cluck, and if you hang out with eagles, you're going to fly."
Frankly, that's a load of crap.
That statement is so fundamentally weak that it might as well gift wrap an excuse for the behavior of every individual who falls prey to it. Statements like that apply situation-based logic to displace blame and mask guilt. It's nothing more than a glorified, universal crutch.
I'm here to tell you that I make my own choices, not my friends, acquaintances, or anyone else I interact with. I make my own choices just like every other human being on this planet God created including yourself. Free will isn't just a cute little biblical concept that we toss around on Sunday morning to make us feel warm and fuzzy. The living, breathing creator God thrust His hand into each and every man and woman and specifically positioned free will at the forefront of our design. Free will isn't an afterthought; it's hard-coded into our DNA. Free will is etched into our souls.
Ephesians 6:11-13 says,
"Put on the full armor of God, so that you can take your stand against the devil's schemes. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world...put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything...stand."
In simple terms: "God can literally protect you from the devil himself, the embodiment of evil, so why are you worried about everything else?"
In even simpler terms: "Take your excuses and shove 'em."
Stop trying to absolve yourself of the guilt you feel for your past actions, seeking refuge in "yes men" (and "yes women") to soothe the sting on your conscience. Stop trying to define yourself or "find yourself" in anything this world has to offer. Stop letting your job deteriorate your value system. Stop allowing negative people to influence you, and when they do influence you, for Pete's sake, don't make up some screwball excuse. You messed up. Own it, and move on.
God gave you one shot at a beautiful, fulfilling life, but you have to take charge of it. You have to stop letting authority figures bully you because you have the Ultimate Authority on your side. Stop letting people tell you the way you think or feel or act is wrong when everything in your soul tells you otherwise. Stop living in fear and misery.
Cut the crap. Drop the act. Make use of the free will God gave you.
I know you've heard it a bajillion times from every person under the sun, but for the sake of your heart and happiness and future listen and absorb and dissect these words...
Just be you.
Labels:
armor,
choices,
excuses,
free will,
friends,
God,
growing up,
motivation,
Shakespeare
Thursday, September 11, 2014
Burdened
When I was younger, I lived for the weekend, not because I was some renowned party animal amongst my prepubescent social group (we're talking elementary-school), but because Friday nights were family nights.
Our living room, while it served as an office, a classroom, and on some occasions a dining room every other day, was transformed into my favorite place in the world for just a few hours each week, a sanctuary where love lived and thrived. Even during the school year and the holiday season and when everyone was at their busiest, my parents still managed to reserve that most coveted of evenings to spend together as a family.
I remember the long nights we spent watching movies and eating our weight in popcorn, building forts out of my grandma's old quilts, eating ice-cream sandwiches and getting the foamy chocolate caked onto our fingers, playing Mario Bros. on the Super Nintendo before "graphics" and "high-definition" were even conceptually relevant terms, waiting until mom went to bed to watch "big kid" movies like Indiana Jones and Terminator with dad.
Looking back now, I cherish those memories, those tiny swirls of vibrance that detailed my childhood. Even now as adulthood dilutes that essence with its stream of gray, those bursts of youthful color reinvigorate me.
Friday night was where I could find happiness and dwell in it. Friday night served as insulation that protected me from the world, from the disappointments, from the expectations, the deception, the bullies, the fear.
It doesn't work like that anymore though. It stopped working that way a long time ago.
The calendar remained vigilant, gifting seven days each and every week. But while the time between Fridays never changed, the time between those Friday nights got longer with the passing of the years.
That's just like life, isn't it? Simplistic in origin, but ever growing, ever complicating.
For the longest time, I couldn't figure out why God would make us in such a way that our timeline is one of declination. In Isaiah 48, He promises to teach us and direct us in the way we should go, so why the heck would He make it so increasingly difficult as we age to achieve childlike happiness in our lives?
Then, it hit me. Every new day is a battle. Although we may put on our armor and lock emotion away, "have thick skin" as some suggest, every day that armor takes damage. It dents with each demeaning blow from a boss or coworker, it cracks under the strain of a loved one with cancer, it rusts in the rains of depression, and when we're at our weakest, it can and it will break.
As a child with so few days on this earth, so few battles waged, I delighted in God's blessings and rejoiced because I felt His love through my family. As an adult, I've faced quite a bit more than that little boy in snuggled up to his daddy in a blanket fort. These eyes have strained from fighting tears and from yearning for sleep. Every scar and stress line etched into my skin tells a story of pain. I need more than a weekend with my family to handle all that life is throwing my way. I've grown weary trapped in this world that is not my home...but, praise God, I don't have to struggle alone.
"Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest." (Matthew 11:28)
And therein lies the secret to a colorful life, one of excitement and continually renewed happiness in an ever-worsening world, in an increasingly difficult life. Sharing the weight. We weren't created to go in alone, to "tough it out" because we think we're strong enough. We're called...actually, we're invited to cast our cares upon Him, invited to find relief and peace where there seems to be none.
And as for me? I'm RSVPing to that party.
Labels:
burden,
childhood,
Friday,
God,
hapiness,
ice-cream,
Indiana Jones,
Mario,
share,
Terminator
Friday, June 27, 2014
Everyday.
Two weeks. Two. More. Weeks. That's how long I have to wait to marry my best friend and better half.
That's how long I must wait to hear those beautiful words leave her lips, those words I've been dying to hear since I fell in love with her almost two years ago: "I do."
Stories are often told of little girls who grow up dreaming of one day finding and marrying their true love. It's not the norm for a boy, much less a 22 year-old man to openly admit to dreaming of finding love.
But I did.
Growing up in church, I received my weekly ration of Adam and Eve references, how God created Eve of the same flesh as Adam and how whole and completing their relationship was. I marveled at how love between two people could be that powerful, so powerful, in fact, that the human race was literally born of it. Words cannot describe how sacred and profound that first romance must have been. Their marriage was founded deeply with God-crafted emotions predating the universe itself, and while they were created as two creatures, that ancient, wonderful, incredible, breathtaking love bound them together as one.
That a man and woman could bond in such an all-consuming way that they essentially become an extension of one another in mind, body, and spirit...amazing.
Throughout my life, I (admittedly) haven't prayed about very many things consistently, but one thing I have asked God for almost as long as I could remember is for Him to allow me to one day find my own "Eden" story, a love rooted in God's love for me and as joyous and rewarding as the acceptance of that love.
So no, I don't really mind to wait a little bit longer. Two weeks is hardly anything at all.
I've been waiting all my life to find that most precious of treasures God describes in His word. The love that Proverbs describes as the "overflowing of a fountain," a love that's "worth far more than jewels" and the physical manifestation of God's own love for man. Patience is a virtue, and my beautiful girl is the reason I know that.
A few weeks ago, I was looking through photos of the day we were engaged. The joy on her face was absolutely priceless. I decided right then, that if I could make her that happy everyday, if I could make her want to marry me everyday, and if I chose to love her like God loves me everyday, like Adam loved Eve everyday, then at the end of my life I wouldn't have wasted a single moment.
I love you, Molly, and I will everyday. I promise. Two more weeks 'til forever.
That's how long I must wait to hear those beautiful words leave her lips, those words I've been dying to hear since I fell in love with her almost two years ago: "I do."
Stories are often told of little girls who grow up dreaming of one day finding and marrying their true love. It's not the norm for a boy, much less a 22 year-old man to openly admit to dreaming of finding love.
But I did.
Growing up in church, I received my weekly ration of Adam and Eve references, how God created Eve of the same flesh as Adam and how whole and completing their relationship was. I marveled at how love between two people could be that powerful, so powerful, in fact, that the human race was literally born of it. Words cannot describe how sacred and profound that first romance must have been. Their marriage was founded deeply with God-crafted emotions predating the universe itself, and while they were created as two creatures, that ancient, wonderful, incredible, breathtaking love bound them together as one.
That a man and woman could bond in such an all-consuming way that they essentially become an extension of one another in mind, body, and spirit...amazing.
Throughout my life, I (admittedly) haven't prayed about very many things consistently, but one thing I have asked God for almost as long as I could remember is for Him to allow me to one day find my own "Eden" story, a love rooted in God's love for me and as joyous and rewarding as the acceptance of that love.
And so...as Matthew 21:22 says, "Whatsoever ye shall ask in prayer, believing, ye shall receive."
And my, oh my, the blessing I have received.
So no, I don't really mind to wait a little bit longer. Two weeks is hardly anything at all.
I've been waiting all my life to find that most precious of treasures God describes in His word. The love that Proverbs describes as the "overflowing of a fountain," a love that's "worth far more than jewels" and the physical manifestation of God's own love for man. Patience is a virtue, and my beautiful girl is the reason I know that.
A few weeks ago, I was looking through photos of the day we were engaged. The joy on her face was absolutely priceless. I decided right then, that if I could make her that happy everyday, if I could make her want to marry me everyday, and if I chose to love her like God loves me everyday, like Adam loved Eve everyday, then at the end of my life I wouldn't have wasted a single moment.
I love you, Molly, and I will everyday. I promise. Two more weeks 'til forever.
Labels:
engaged,
engagement,
everyday,
God,
growing up,
happiness,
husband,
love,
Matthew,
Proverbs,
wedding,
wife
Tuesday, April 22, 2014
Hollywood's Heaven
As much as I enjoy the yearly influx of people who realize they believe in Jesus overnight and google directions to the nearest place of worship, this weekend's Easter celebrations left more to be desired.
There was a big hub-bub surrounding the feel good movie of the month, Heaven is for Real, which conveniently released within days of Resurrection Sunday. A lot of people, like Molly and myself, went on opening night to see the movie. Unlike many of those people, however, we didn't go out of some obligatory sense of Christian duty to support non-secular film. We went because it looked interesting and, more importantly, the tickets were free.
Because to be brutally honest with myself and everyone else...faith-based movies generally suck. I know that doesn't make me the most popular Bible-reader on the block, but I'm not gonna sugarcoat it. They suck.
While the message may be great, the acting is consistently sub-par and restricted to a very limited range of extreme emotions. There's only so much I can take of Kirk Cameron rapidly alternating between rage and a seemingly drug-induced state of bliss. And eventually, they're bound to run out of blonde-haired, blue-eyed children and attractive middle-aged women to cast for supporting family roles that require the extensive quoting of scripture.
But what ticks me off the most about "Christian" movies isn't that the actors are laughably poor. What ticks me off is how they don't even come close to accurately representing Christians.
Flicks like Heaven is for Real don't convey the true gravity of what it means to be a Christian in an ever-declining society, to cling to a dying faith. The directors consistently fail to capture how exceedingly controversial it is to have a relationship with God in a world where toxic levels of individualism and political correctness discourage religion all together.
Believers are portrayed as a cloudy-eyed stereotype. Their lives are perfect, their picket fence is a pristine egg shell white, and every new day is full of abundant blessings. In Christian movie world, the only struggles that exist involve trust issues with God. I hate to break it to you and possibly ruin the big surprise, but none of that is realistic.
Granted, God does bless His people, and Christians do struggle with their faith, but our lives are very much still entwined in earthly matters, and as much as we would like everyone at church to believe life is all rainbows and puppies, that's simply not the case. Believers are not immediately placed in a reality-nullifying bubble upon accepting Christ into our hearts. We aren't granted immunity from human nature and society and this imperfect world we live in.
The internal battle for those movie characters may end in a passionate prayer while gripping a cross necklace, heads bowed at the altar. But the harsh truth is that, when real Christians are on their knees, we're just calling for backup. Because in the real world, the altar is just one of many places where the battle rages on.
The church you see pictured on the big screen is full of smiling faces with "amen"s and "hallelujahs" echoing up into the rafters and triumphantly bursting forth from steeple, but what the cinematographers fail to get in the shot is all the pain in those pews. They can't film every instance where those men and women have been looked down upon because of their faith or judged because some radicals ruined their nation's predisposition about them, despised for every drawn breath and subsequent exhalation of Jesus' name.
They'll never be able to capture the ache etched in the bones of God's battered children who long for home, their real and eternal home.
"Christian" has become a label synonymous with "virgin," with "sober" and "drug-free," with "happily married," with "innocent," with "holy." I cannot express how very misguided the notion that Christians are somehow better than anyone else is. We are not exempt from iniquity or the suffering that goes along with it. We are just as unpardonably sinful, just as irreparably broken, and just as inexcusably human as everyone else on this earth.
But the difference? The thing that sets us apart? The reigning truth that makes it all worthwhile?
We have a perfect lamb to pardon us, a master healer to repair us, and a loving God to forgive our imperfections.
Perhaps, that's why Hollywood just can't get it right. Because there's no drama or documentary or actor or writer or speaker who could ever fully explain what makes believers different. Why, you ask? Because no drama or documentary or actor or writer or speaker will ever be able to fully explain the awesomeness of our God.
Labels:
Christians,
church,
Easter,
film,
God,
Heaven,
Heaven is for Real,
movies,
relationship,
world
Thursday, March 27, 2014
Mirrors
I've always second-guessed myself when pointing out the mistakes of others. Because, I mean, who am I to criticize? Who am I, this flawed and uninfluential individual, to draw attention to the shortcomings of a fellow, flawed human?
It seems obvious to me, yet I feel so isolated on my little island of respect for others.
People certainly don't hesitate to criticize one another, to exploit and magnify weaknesses. They seek out fractures in the beautifully imperfect beings that we are and drive their judgmental stakes in deep, creating painful chasms within us. I know they do because I see it every single day at school, at work, and sadly, at church too.
Naturally, conflict arises. Conflict founded on disapproval in others, founded on the notion that some characteristic or behavior or detail about an individual is fundamentally wrong. We should engage in conflict because there are, indeed, times when the differences between us are so inexcusably prominent that they scream to be resolved or, at least, positioned in such a way that it no longer trespasses on who we are. Iron sharpens iron, as it was meant to be.
But people just don't participate in constructive conflict anymore. They fight, quite simply, to bring harm to others. They compulsively judge, chipping away at the already fragile composures of people just like themselves. They pervert the very nature of conversation and collaboration by injecting elements of discord into the lives of those around them, and the cycle continues.
When did we, as God's self-sustaining creations, lose the right to form our own opinions? When in the exact chronological moment in the existence of everything did it suddenly become unacceptable to be different?
"Society" is a joke. We've allowed ourselves to rally behind relentless, idealist bigots, accepting everything they say and crucifying those who disagree. Republicans, democrats, homosexuals, heterosexuals, whites, blacks, everyone is guilty of this new paradigm. There's an invisible exemplar in society today that tells each new generation to follow existing trends and every new pattern of thought for the sake of popularity. Everyone is striving to find the path of least resistance and shaming the ones who try to break the mold.
If people embraced their insecurities and, just for a moment, start treating their fellow man like something other than a failure in progress, maybe then they could find happiness we all so long for. Maybe if people started trying, simply trying to see each other like Jesus sees them, maybe then there would be peace.
It seems obvious to me, yet I feel so isolated on my little island of respect for others.
People certainly don't hesitate to criticize one another, to exploit and magnify weaknesses. They seek out fractures in the beautifully imperfect beings that we are and drive their judgmental stakes in deep, creating painful chasms within us. I know they do because I see it every single day at school, at work, and sadly, at church too.
Naturally, conflict arises. Conflict founded on disapproval in others, founded on the notion that some characteristic or behavior or detail about an individual is fundamentally wrong. We should engage in conflict because there are, indeed, times when the differences between us are so inexcusably prominent that they scream to be resolved or, at least, positioned in such a way that it no longer trespasses on who we are. Iron sharpens iron, as it was meant to be.
But people just don't participate in constructive conflict anymore. They fight, quite simply, to bring harm to others. They compulsively judge, chipping away at the already fragile composures of people just like themselves. They pervert the very nature of conversation and collaboration by injecting elements of discord into the lives of those around them, and the cycle continues.
When did we, as God's self-sustaining creations, lose the right to form our own opinions? When in the exact chronological moment in the existence of everything did it suddenly become unacceptable to be different?
"Society" is a joke. We've allowed ourselves to rally behind relentless, idealist bigots, accepting everything they say and crucifying those who disagree. Republicans, democrats, homosexuals, heterosexuals, whites, blacks, everyone is guilty of this new paradigm. There's an invisible exemplar in society today that tells each new generation to follow existing trends and every new pattern of thought for the sake of popularity. Everyone is striving to find the path of least resistance and shaming the ones who try to break the mold.
If people embraced their insecurities and, just for a moment, start treating their fellow man like something other than a failure in progress, maybe then they could find happiness we all so long for. Maybe if people started trying, simply trying to see each other like Jesus sees them, maybe then there would be peace.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)