Conversations on Redemption

Question:

To what degree do we contribute to our own redemption?

Now don’t get your panties all in a bunch. I’m not talking about “salvation” per se. That’s by grace through faith and all that jazz. Got that.

I’m talking about transformation. Looking like Christ. I’ve been looking at narratives lately; life narratives. We all have one, a story that arcs over our life. These stories have themes; consistent patterns and ideas that keep popping up. For me, it’s things like God’s ability to take care of my needs even when I don’t have the means to, and our continual conversations about why He does things the way he does, even though I usually think He’s wrong. God’s faithfulness and our dynamic, heated, messy, wonderful conversations. A third might be my continual search for something real. Something alive, raw, honest, transparent. Something I can sink my teeth into and show my friends. I like the themes of my life. I can see God working and improving me through my narrative. I can see him making me more and more full of life and joy, which is what He says it’s all about anyway.

But, then I look at some of the narratives of people close to me. Many look like mine, but it’s the few that trouble me. There’s this one in particular. I’ve known this man for awhile, and I keep watching his life get worse. It’s like the universe is out to destroy him, like it gets some sort of pleasure from slowly ripping everything away from him. I really don’t get it. He keeps working as hard as he can, working himself to death, and things keep getting worse. Over the time that I’ve known him I’ve watched him seem to lose everything. Home, job, car, wife, kids, dog… it’s like watching a country song in real life. Like any good country song, he’s in his room prayin’ every day for things to change; but they don’t. His narrative keeps getting worse. I mean even Joseph got a few upswings in his story between prisons, so what’s up with this guy? How can someone who loves God so much and claims to hear him so much keep being let down by him? Why doesn’t his narrative look more like mine?

Then I thought about it a bit longer. I thought about all the times he’s chosen not to change, and all the times that he did, but thought that moment of change was equal to years of transformation.  God has done a lot of softening and even a lot of healing. God just hasn’t trumped his will yet. Sometimes, I think he sees God like heroin, offering him that fix that will keep him going, that in the moment promises to be enough– then I watch him crash. I’m not even saying what he experiences isn’t God. I think I’m saying that in his world, God is only allowed to answer him in certain ways; only allowed to do certain things. God isn’t allowed to be gray. God has to be this or that, he can’t be both. When we decide what God is allowed to be, God often seems limited by the very parameters we give him. We all limit God, and those limits determine our reality.

My friend has decided that God works in absolutes, making everything absolutely okay immediately or not touching it at all. His inability to see the process, or to partner with God in a process, has inhibited his transformation. He can’t grow like he needs to, because he would have to admit that he isn’t ok, that he is broken, and no magic prayer time or supernatural vision is going to instantly change that. He would have to admit that he’s way more messed up than he thinks, and that he may never be totally whole on this side of heaven. That he really could get better if he wanted to, but it would be a slow process of progress over many years. He’d have to be vulnerable and let go of his closed theological systems with no room for the unexplainable and accept that he is often wrong. He might even have to let people in for real, asking them where he is in his journey instead of assuming that the voice in his head that he calls God is all he needs to listen to. There are so many things he would have to learn….

But he doesn’t want that. He is too afraid to choose to let those walls down and face how things really are. He has dammed the rivers of life in his world, so his redemption is slow. We don’t earn our salvation. I don’t think we earn anything in our relationship with God. Yet, maybe there is more to it then pray and wait. Maybe the reason my narrative and my friend’s look so different is because with most of myself, I choose to remain open to whatever God has(C’mon, be honest. Do any of us really give all of ourselves to anything?). I choose not to limit as many of the possibilities of what redemption could look like, or what theology could look like. I hold on to this connection to my friend Jesus, and stay flexible. Paul says we are co-laborers with the Holy Spirit. I wonder what happens when we choose not to labor with him. Maybe we tie his hands. Maybe we limit our redemption, and we shape our narrative in a way that breaks His heart.

Submission is letting go, but letting go is a choice.

His yoke is easy and His burden is light, but

it only feels light when we choose his burden instead of our own.

All this to say that i don’t know what the answer is here. I don’t understand why some stories are so heartbreaking, but I am open to conversation. I’m questioning, like I always do, because God made me this way. When I see one of God’s own with such a painful story, my first instinct is to blame God, and to ask Him what the hell He’s doing up there. It’s great, because He’s so obliged to meet me here and show me things. So even something as small as seeing that maybe our redemption– our transformation and the measure of life we experience in Christ right now– is limited by our choices, is freeing. It helps me trust that once again, my God is good. I don’t like to think that good people can remain broken because of their own fear of growth, I don’t like that a Christian who genuinely knows God can have such as sad story, and I don’t like blaming people for their own suffering. I know that some who hear this idea will instantly judge me as a jerk for even suggesting such a thing, but I think this concept is part of it. In this little puzzle piece of how the world works (albeit a dark puzzle piece) I find a little hope. The world becomes a little more concrete, and I trust my friend Jesus and my Father God just a little bit more.

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Like I said, this is a conversation. I want to hear your feedback. Have you ever seen God’s hands tied in a situation because of a person’s choices? How did you feel about that? Is it even fair to suggest that God could be limited in the life of a Christian, or is his redemption too big to be slowed by our choices? Bad things happen to good people, we all know that, but what about bad stories? Should a person who is living in the new life of Christ be continually experiencing less and less hope, seeing more and more relationships fall apart, and feel more and more alone, even as they try to follow Christ with their whole heart? What do we do if we try to point those choices out and they still don’t change?

Feel free to answer all or none of these questions. but if you read this, please join the conversation. After all, if you don’t offer your experience to the conversation, aren’t you limiting both of our transformations?

For more on How God frees us from our limited perspectives even while working within them, see: Why Wrong Theology Works

I Do Not Believe in Jesus Christ

I find the fact that most Christians believe in Jesus to be incredibly unsettling.

There is an assumption today that belief in Christ is a good thing. It says something about you. Many even think it makes you a Christian. They say things like “I believe that Jesus Christ died for my sins” or “I believe he rose from the dead.” They take much of this language from what they assume to be the Bible, and they encourage other “believers” to do the same thing. But I’ll be honest…when someone says they believe in Jesus, it usually just makes me uncomfortable.

Stretch with me for a minute here. Think for a second about the implications of the statement “I believe in Jesus Christ,” or “I believe Jesus is alive today.” Have you ever heard a scientist say “I believe in gravity?” How about “I believe the earth is round?” Why not?

Because no one believes these things.

They know them.

I know that some Christians do mean “I know Christ is God” when they say “I believe He is,” but I also know many do not. If you think you are one of the ones who does mean the former, I assure you that you are probably wrong. I thought I knew Jesus was God, and that I knew he was alive today, (it turns out that to a large degree I did know these things) but a careful reading of Dallas Willard’s Knowing Christ Today helped me to realize that I too had hints of postmodern stupidity within my theology.

The fundamental error of the age we live in is to assume that everything is relative. While many things are, and while all things are probably subjective from our perspectives, that does not mean nothing is fact. While gravity is relative, it is a fact that it exists. While perceptions and beliefs about God are relative, it is a fact that He exists. Yet, many Christians mistakenly have assumed relativistic language and began to treat God as if he can actually be believed or disbelieved!

I do not believe in Jesus. I do not believe He is God. And neither should any professing Christian today!

He IS God! He IS real! My belief is irrelevant!

I always found it clever when someone says “I do not believe in God” to respond with “that’s ok, He believes in you.” If you are genuine about it, you really will not offend that many people; you’ll be surprised. The fact of the matter is that we cannot change reality. Truth is true regardless of if we believe it or not. We can however, and often do, concede to the worlds standards of “belief” and treat God like he can be disproven, ignored, or “disbelieved.”

Let’s face it. Right now I’ve probably made at least half of you angry, or gotten you thinking “What an idiot. He’s arguing over semantics!” Maybe I am, but hear me out, because semantics are important. There is something even deeper, and more profound taking place here than just defining terms wrong, or even than conceding to worldly culture.

The hardest reality to face is that most Christians really do only “believe” in God.

I’m not sure if this is an inherently bad thing, more simply a true thing. I think there are many things we believe before we know them. That is perfectly alright. For example, a child believes that he will one day grow up long before he knows it. He cannot know it until he has experienced it. My neighbor Haylynn is seven. (Her mom lives there too) Now she knows the stove is hot, and not to be touched with her bare hands, but there was a time when she was not so sure. Her mommy told her not to touch it, because she would burn herself, and perhaps she believed her mom and didn’t touch it. However, as time went on, she may have doubted enough to touch that hot burner, and I assure you that she knew her mom had told her the truth in that moment. Haylynn believed before she knew, but with maturity and time she came to knowledge.

Many Christians are like Haylynn. They believe Jesus is real and alive, and they believe they have some sort of relationship with him, but they really do not know it. They try to convince themselves that what Mommy Church told them is true, but part of them still remains unconvinced. Many have yet to test their beliefs. Few have reached out yet to experience the blazing inferno of Glory that is God. In their immaturity, all they have is belief.

As I said before, immaturity is completely ok. There is nothing to be ashamed about in rightly acknowledging how mature you truly are. I for one, am immature in certain arenas of self discipline. Where it becomes dangerous is when we assume that we are meant to stay there. There is nothing wrong with being five. There is something seriously wrong if somehow you stay five. I believe (see! belief really can be ok!) that we are meant to all at some point transition from belief to knowledge when it comes to God. To me, knowledge should be the foundation of our faith.

For many who were not raised in Christian homes, it would be ideal for the journey into Christ to start with knowledge. I have a good friend who began to know Christ months before he even became a Christian. However, for those of you like me who were raised Christian, we often have to go through a season of doubt before we can arrive at knowledge. Let’s look to one of our elder brothers to bring a bit more clarity:

Thomas believed he would never deny Jesus, just like all the other disciples. He believed Jesus was the Messiah and that His plan would work perfectly. He believed he could trust Jesus with his life, and that Jesus would never let him down. Except one day, Jesus died. Everything within Thomas was shattered that day. What he thought he believed was wrong. It would take years to deal with such a catastrophic blow, and those years seemed worthless now. His Messiah was killed, but so was his friend. He heard screams still echoing in his head. You can imagine Thomas after only three days. Sitting there, alone, ashamed, and hopeless, Thomas probably made a vow something like this “I’m never falling for that crap again. My best friend was killed, but he obviously wasn’t the Messiah. The messiah can’t die, he’s supposed to save us! I’m only going with what I can prove to be true. Screw the rest of this garbage.” Of course, Thomas was forgetting about all of the miracles he had seen that proved Jesus was God. He was forgetting about the thousands of diseases he saw cured before his very eyes and the hundreds of demoniacs he saw instantly set free and the walking on water and the storm and the list goes on and on. It’s easy to forget when God feels so unknowable.

Suddenly three people burst through his door! Peter, John, James. “Thomas, He’s alive! He’s alive! Thomas we saw him! I can’t believe it Thomas, He rose from the dead! Just like Lazarus did a few weeks ago! He’s back and He really is the Messiah!”

Thomas took a moment to try to process everything going on. Jesus was alive? No, he had touched his body as they laid him in the tomb. He had felt the still moist blood as they wrapped him in cloth. His friends had gone mad and seen a ghost, or hallucination or something, but Jesus was dead. Thomas heart broke fresh within him. He lashed out in anger and heartache.

“Alive!? Alive?! He’s DEAD John! Our friend is DEAD! Don’t feed me this line of crap anymore! I don’t want to hear it! Unless I see him with my own eyes and touch his wounds with my own hands, I won’t believe.”

“Thomas, you have to trust us. We saw him ourselves.”

“I want to know. I won’t trust anyone.”

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Of course soon Thomas did know. I wish I had been there to see Jesus’ tenderness as he gently took Thomas’ hand and placed it into the wounds in his wrists. It must have been so profound for Jesus to be restored to His friend. Thomas must have been so moved by the incredible compassion of Jesus as well. Jesus wasn’t even fazed by his doubt. Rather he gladly, wholeheartedly, answered Thomas’ request for knowledge.

We serve a God of evidence, not a God of faith. That may be strange to hear for some of you “Just have faith” folks out there, and may be even stranger for my athiest and agnostic friends reading this, so let me break it down. Jesus tells the disciples to have faith all the time. “Oh you of little faith” is a common phrase that comes from his lips, but we have to look closer at the story to understand. Jesus does not require faith before seeing, but requires it after. In Matthew 6, he shows everyone how God is faithful to take care of his creation, then essentially says “Look at the evidence! How can you fear in light of such strong evidence? Trust what you can know based on the evidence to be true.” (Most of our Bibles read that verse as “Oh you of little faith, why are you so afraid?”) When a massive cataclysmic storm is threatening their lives, He is sleeping! They have to wake him up to even tell him about the storm! Jesus essentially says, groggy eyed and maybe a little annoyed at having his nap interrupted, “Guys, seriously? I was sleeping? Look at the evidence! If I’m sleeping, do you really think there’s anything to worry about? Do you trust me that little that you would ignore the evidence again? Ah, whatever, you’ll get it before this is all over. Storm! Chill out!” Another one I love is when they start worrying about how they forgot the bread. Jesus is like “Seriously? Guys, I just multiplied two loaves and fed like 10,000 people. Do you really think this is about the bread? You guys really don’t trust me, and clearly you are blind to evidence.”

Jesus models the way, proves Himself, then asks us to trust afterwords. He demonstrates his power, then demands a response. Either ignore me and follow yourself, or embrace me and follow me, but you can’t ignore the facts.  Paul the Apostle put it this way: “The Kingdom of heaven is not a matter of talk but of power.” (1 Cor 4:20) In our evangelical Western thinking, we have reversed it. We think “the kingdom of heaven is a matter of talking about the kingdom and Jesus long enough that everyone feels really good about making a ‘decision’ to follow some guy named Jesus whom they have never seen, heard from, or touched simply because of an inspirational speech and hope for a better life. Then after a few years, if you ‘just have faith’ long enough, maybe you will see some sort of evidence, but only if God wills it, and only if it doesn’t hinder your ability to ‘just have faith.’” It cracks me up how I even see this in Charismatic circles. Miracles are happening everywhere, but people think that if you turn on a camera or point them out that God will stop doing them. It’s like they think God wants to hide himself. Jesus said it is a wicked and perverse generation that seeks a sign, but then he said no sign would be given except the sign of Jonah. Basically:

“You guys are evil because you are ignoring all the evidence and miracles I’ve already presented and treating them like I still haven’t proven myself. You are wicked, because you seek a sign when hundreds are right in front of you! However, one more sign will be given. Remember when a dead guy was coughed up on the shore and started declaring who God is and an entire Gentile people group came to know God? You are going to see that all over again. You’re going to kill me, and you are going to see me come back from the dead. You will be able to touch my wounds and hear my voice. Then, you’ll see the Gentiles embrace me just like with Jonah. How’s that for a sign?!”

Christianity is the “show me” religion, because God built it that way. I do not believe in God on faith. I believe in him on evidence. I trust him (faith) because of that evidence but the evidence came first, not the faith. That’s why when Christians say “I believe Jesus is real” or athiests say “There is no such thing as God” I have to chuckle a little bit. It actually confuses me for a second. Then I remind myself that the Christian church has trained itself to “have faith” instead of follow Jesus’ example of evidence, and the secular world hasn’t seen any evidence because the Christian world is afraid to expect it. I remember that most Christians still believe in Jesus much like they believe in Santa, and have no idea if He really exists. They only know the good feelings he brings them and that if they are a good boy or girl they will get presents after they die. That’s when I settle down and calmly explain to whoever I’m talking to that

“I don’t believe in God either. I know He exists. If you would like to meet him in a tangible way right now, I’d be glad to introduce you.”

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Obviously this post is long, which is why I didn’t do anything too exegetical or detailed. If you want to continue the conversation, please comment. I would love to help show you how I arrived here. Have a great day, if this touched you please tell me and your friends, and have fun asking God to show you the evidence so you can stop believing and start knowing.

For further reading on knowing Christ:

Knowing Christ Today by Dallas Willard

For a beautiful picture of the standard approach of reason based evidence rather than tangible evidence, read:

Is Belief in God Good, Bad, or Irrelevant? by Preston Jones

For more on discovering God, read:

Remembering What you Never Knew

For more on the essence of Christianity, read:

The Forgotten Christianity

No really, it’s going to be ok

There are few things as powerful as when rest finally, truly, really hits you.

I was driving home in the car today after seeing Looper, a movie that (despite a bit of nudity, which may be offensive to some of you) I highly recommend. The movie was incredible, and the symbols powerful. It’s one of those movies that you leave still thinking about, still feeling. I can’t totally explain what was going on inside me at that moment, but wheels were turning…

This year, a lot has happened. In the last three months or so, a lot more has happened. My faith has been rather immovable, but all my other foundations have been shaken a bit. Some idols have been falling, some humbling has been happening, and some “stress” has been manifesting. In this whole process, I haven’t really had even the time to slow down to actually process. But sometimes, the processing finds you anyway.

Sunday night, 7pm, two weeks ago, at a hotel in Charlotte, North Carolina:

Two percent. I can’t get the number out of my head. Two percent become pro athletes. Two percent become millionaires. Two percent become A list actors…. Two percent become powerful, world changing Christians… Sometimes less…

I lay there thinking about how few people ever reach their potential. How many millions of people could become something great, but choose to never do so. I wanted to fix it, but I knew I couldn’t. The tension was so painful. Then, I began to cry. I began to mourn for the 98%. Sometimes, processing finds you…

This past Friday, 8pm, in the parking lot of my apartment complex

“Look Mom, I have no choice! If I don’t keep doing all this, my life falls apart! I have a car payment now, because my old car decided it was done working, and I had to have a car to make it to work so I can pay rent! So now I have a car payment and a rent payment! I’m stuck at a job I have to go to, that I used to love but now drives me crazy because it’s so early in the morning, I’m working 15 hour days, and on top of all that I have to take care of our dog now! Not to mention all the papers I have to write. I’m already late on two of them! Trust God? Seriously? I’m trusting God! I’m trusting that He will give me whatever I need so that I don’t keel over and die from all this crap I have to deal with! Don’t tell me to trust God; I’m trusting!”

After about another 45 minutes, I realized I wasn’t trusting. I was panicking. My mom continued to coax me out of my worry and into trust…

“Honey, look at our life. Your Father and I have been through some pretty hard situations, some of them where it looked like we would end up homeless, but God always provides. He never leaves us without, and you know that more than anybody. You’ve believed this for years, but now it’s not someone elses money. Now it’s your turn to be tested to see whether you truly do trust. You are being tested, but you won’t be like I was. You won’t go around the mountain over and over again, because you’ll see that God provides, and you’ll learn your lesson. You don’t have to panic. You aren’t going to lose everything. You just need to trust…”

Driving home, tonight, 10:15 pm

Processing finds you. I was thinking about all these things. All the things I’ve been through recently. All the pain, heartache, sorrow. I was thinking about how the money has come in, how I just made my first car payment and the money was there to do it. How my dog got sick over the weekend, but (with my mom’s help via a panicked phone call) I handled it. She’s healthy and happy once again. I was thinking about my friendships, and how I’m learning to balance an insane work schedule with maintaining my connection to those who matter most to me. How Heather and Harrison got married, and everything worked out ok. How Esther keeps worrying and getting overwhelmed, but I know she’ll figure it out. How Chris is a really good guy, and he really does care about me and want to be friends. I was feeling the fresh warmth of Saturday’s wedding, seeing almost all my closest friends together in one place. And how Joe really did make the right choice and change the future…And that’s when it hit me…

It really is all going to be ok.

I thought I believed that, thought I knew it, but in that moment I realized I never really knew it in my heart.

I saw myself over the rest of the year, writing papers, building a national business, learning incredible things in this last year of school, and loving the friends and family I love with the quality time they deserve. I saw the sacrifices and the maturity and the man I will become, and I began to sob. Really, it really, really, is all going to be ok. I felt it in my gut. My whole being knew. I’m going to be ok. And somehow, in that realization, I knew I had just become Karsten.

Not Karsten the boy, or Karsten the college student trying to discover who he is, but Karsten the man. I for the first time, could see who I really am designed to be, and that that is exactly who I’m becoming. I felt like I was finally emerging from this dark, chaotic cocoon where I only wondered if somehow I could really ever get out. If I really did have the wings I was promised. But there I was, driving my new car that I could afford, living on my own in a house I am making rent on, taking care of another life every day, and finding the time for the people I love. I saw myself. I really am ok. It really is good.

For the last few months, when people ask me how I’ve been, or what life has been like, I’ve been telling them it has been “productive.” I think we are afraid of that word, because it sounds so cold and so empty. It’s as if we are simply a machine, meant to produce, but it doesn’t have to be that way. Because I realized one key thing– the thing I’m producing is myself.

There is a plan for each of us. A potential within us that we are all destined to reach, if we simply start the process. We are all meant to be the 2 percent, but being productive comes at a cost. You may have to sacrifice the things you love most to become the person that can love those things as you were designed to. The strange paradox lies here: sacrifice your life, and you will save it, lose your life, and you will find it. All this time I thought that had some great unknowable mysterious meaning to it; something poetic about losing yourself in the great abyss of God or whatever… but I don’t think it’s really like that. Maybe somewhere within ourselves, we really do know who we are meant to be, and that itch in us is begging us to become ourselves. Maybe we just have to take that cost and start growing to become that. Maybe losing yourself really means letting go of what makes you comfortable to become what makes you great. There is greatness within you, but are you willing to pay the cost? Will you sit on your ass and let the world pass you buy, holding onto a hollow existence that you know could be more, or will you choose to go through a painful, ugly, messy, difficult, stressful season that is “productive?” I promise you that if you don’t run from it, if you choose it and embrace it, it will only be a season. It takes this season for you to truly enter rest. It takes this chaos for you to become unshakable, so that you can say along with Paul “I have learned the secret to being content in every situation. I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” Oh, and even during that season, know that it really is all going to be ok. You won’t die, you won’t be destroyed (although you probably will break; it takes some breaking to get out of that cocoon) and you will become your destiny. You will finally enter rest.

The only question is, will you pay the cost?

 

 

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To those of you that read my blog regularly, I apologize for the long wait between posts. I wrote this post in part to help you see why my page has been so dry lately in terms of content, and more so because this post is true. I want you to know something about me right now, so that from this day forward you won’t have to wonder. I’m one of the most loyal people you will ever meet. If I commit to something, you can be sure that that commitment will stand. I’m also the most honest person you will ever meet. I strive to never bull— anyone, and to honor God and man by only presenting truth in all I say and do. With that in mind, sometimes I don’t post on purpose. I have quite a number of half finished posts that have never gone up because they didn’t feel right. I could have finished them and given you something to read, but I refuse. I’m too committed to being the best writer I can be, and I know that if it doesn’t flow, it isn’t ready. I’m also too committed to my cause: to present you with life changing content. I will only post something if I truly believe it has the potential to change the world. I refuse to post content to grow my reader base, despite how tempting it may be to do so. I want you to know that I never forget about you, and I never give up. If you don’t hear from me, my blog is not dead, it is growing. It is becoming what it needs to be within me as a person so that the next post will continue to be every bit as good as the others. It is being shaped in me so that it can transform you. If you miss me, and want to hear from me, please contact me via my fb page and I will gladly talk to you whenever I can, but also know that if there are no posts for awhile, God is working on me and I’m growing. Feel free to pray for me in those times, so that I will continue to walk into all of the purpose and identity that I am destined for. I thank you so much for your concern, and for your faithful listening ears. Know that I will do my very best to keep honoring you in all that I post. Thank you, and Goodnight.

I’m Always Unresolved

“We always leave like this!”

“Like what?” I ask.

“With everything so…unresolved!”

Then my friend drove off. It’s true. Almost all of our conversations go deep, and when they do, they never seem to finish. There is always something percolating, something brewing, something unresolved. I wrote this post for her…

 

Resolution. It’s something the human spirit craves. This strange satisfaction that comes when everything comes together. It’s why we all wanted to see the last batman movie, it’s why we can’t stop turning pages as we read The Hunger Games. It’s why church always ends with that nice worship song or some music playing over the speakers as we walk out. It’s why all humanity keeps on asking “how will it all end?”

But does it ever really end?

Sure, there’s the whole world goes up in flames and God takes over and evil is defeated thing, but is that the resolution?

Ever notice that the Book of Revelation ends with the gates of the eternal city being always open? (Rev 21:25) Now why would a city that everyone is already a part of need to have gates that never close? I thought this was the end of the book! Yet, this verse clearly shows that the story continues. The “resolution” is just the beginning of another story.

So what does this mean? Are we longing for something we will never experience? I don’t think so…not exactly anyway.

We are eternal beings, just like God. We are made in his image, and our spirit is made of the same stuff as His. It’s like he took his eternal flame and lit our little candle with it; made of the same essence. Now here’s the revolutionary part. Because we are eternal, God had given us the  privilege of eternal resolution. Let me explain…

If I told you that you could have eternal refills on your favorite drink, when would you run out of refills? If the cup had an endless bottom, how long would it take you to fill up the cup? Would it ever be full? Would you ever be “done?” Of course not! The very fact that it is eternal demands that you are never done, it’s never over, you never reach the last page. One of my favorite movies growing up was the Never Ending Story. In this movie, as long as there is human imagination, the story continues. The Never Ending Story got it right. Human imagination will last for eternity, the human spirit never dies, so “resolution” never comes.

But let’s look at it from the flip side, shall we? Resolution also never stops. There was only one fall, and it already happened. Ever since, creation and humanity have been on the constant path back towards total restoration, and eventually even to surpass the original garden. We are unresolved because things are broken that need to be fixed, or because something that should be complete is incomplete, yet we are constantly being restored, fixed, completed, resolved.  We are forever growing towards more beauty, more life, more “resolution.” It’s not that there are no happy endings; just that they keep happening forever.

I can’t wait for the stage when that resolution crosses the line from simply restoring what has been lost to expanding what has been gained. One day, there will be no more brokenness to fix, no more evil to purge, and no more devil to overcome, but we will still be unresolved. We will continue on our journey upwards and inwards. We will be forever going deeper into union and intimacy with God, and we will forever be discovering more about the person who we truly are by His design.

To break it down to its simplest parts:
Life is a journey, and it never ends. We are broken now, but we are being resolved. Even once we aren’t broken, we will still be “being resolved.” The reason why there is never total resolution, is because what we have is better than resolution! We have eternity! That ache we feel is beautiful, because it drives us onwards and inwards. It reminds us that there is always more goodness to be experienced. It is not meant to haunt us or torment us. It is there to give us more and more life, more and more joy, more and more pleasure, forever. Next time you are feeling particularly “unresolved,” or like your life is just a mess of chaos, remember that the resolution for that season is coming, but you must embrace the journey. Resolutions will keep happening forever, but if we only enjoy the resolution, we rob ourselves of a lifetime of goodness.

So enjoy the process. Love being unresolved. You are beautifully broken, and God loves just enjoying you right now! He loves watching you become who He already knows you to be, and no part is “better” than any other. He celebrates your victories and “happy ending” moments with you, and He mourns with you when things are falling apart and you hurt. He never gives up on you, and He is never disappointed in you. He will never love you any differently than He does right now. He celebrates all of you, he loves you even though you are unresolved. You always will be, and that is a good thing.

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I wrote this post for a friend, because I know she needs to hear it, so at least one person will hopefully be impacted. But if you are person number 2, or 3, or 10, please don’t hesitate to let me know. I write because I’m made to, because God has built it into my veins, but when I don’t write it’s because I forget that it matters to people. If anything I’ve had to say over the last 9 months or so has mattered to you, don’t hesitate to comment and let me know. You are the inspiration that keeps me writing. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it.

Karsten

Give Me A Reason To Live, Part 2

If you did not read part 1, this post will not make much sense. I encourage you to read part 1 (here) so that the story comes alive for you, and your heart is transformed by the truth these two posts contain. If you have already read part 1, welcome back. Here comes the good part…

I began to learn to “just be.” God made you a human being, not a human doing. Being should be enough. I learned that you will never change the world if you do not first change yourself, and that you can never truly love another until you feel loved yourself. You have to be before you can do. You have to have before you can give. I discovered I was broken, then I discovered that it was ok to be broken. I discovered I was hurting, then I discovered real healing. My first two years of college were the first two years where I began to just be, and not do. I didn’t have to save the world, I just had to let Jesus save me. And if I never did one good thing, to Jesus, just having me was enough.

My new sense of worth began changing me. My identity began to take shape, and my heart began to be healed. I was no longer “doing my calling,” I was “being myself.” From that, I eventually felt healed enough. I figured that season was done, so I could start doing again! This time with God and super-mature-Karsten powers added in! Now, since I was “all better,” my doing could really change the world!

I started a blog. I started a house church. I became an RA (Resident Assistant, the guy in charge of a bunch of other guys in a dorm building). I ran a Christian club. I shared the gospel. I started discipling. Now I wasn’t just a doer, I was a really good doer!

Of course I didn’t see that at the time. I didn’t realize that I had sacrificed being for ministry, and traded being for doing yet again. It took awhile for me to realize that I was still broken, and that the doing wasn’t fulfilling me now just like it wasn’t before. I didn’t really start to get it until everything started to break. I began to have those days the church forgot to mention, and they kept happening.  People stopped coming to my house church, the relationship I had became heartache, the dorm I oversaw didn’t respect me, I went nearly a month without a blog post, the family I tried to hold together fell apart, my friend David had to manage the Christian club for me, the kid I was mentoring began having friends with benefits, the guy I shared the gospel with got bored of seeking God and just wanted to play soccer, my mentor stopped returning my calls. Everything crashed. At one point, even my grades were looking pretty nasty.

Then it all caught up to me. One day, I finally felt the pain. It’s like someone ripped open my heart and all it’s contents were violently sucked out the side, like an airplane ripped open at 30,000 feet. Then, in that moment, I discovered one of the most important truths known to man. I realized that the whole world is filled with deep, deep, pain. I don’t mean I saw that the world needed fixing, I mean that I felt the world’s broken state. The weight of the world went from on top of me, to exploding inside me. I felt the nuclear missile.

I know that seems morbid. How can that be one of the most important truths known to man? Well, because of what it leads to. When you feel how much pain the world has, when you feel how wrong it all is, your heart demands that you take action. The difference is, this time it’s from a place of being. The pain, the ache, fuels the fire of change that burns in your heart. When you hurt with the world, you care. When you feel the pain, your love becomes real.

I started wanting to change the world not because I should, or because performing well would make me accepted or loved, but because I had to. My heart demanded it. Me and Jesus had to see this thing change, or die trying. I couldn’t just do stuff anymore, even if it was because Christians are supposed to. I wanted to live to infuse the world with meaning, because I had felt the void firsthand.

I think that’s why Jesus tells us to mourn with those who mourn. We are supposed to have a reason to live, and it’s supposed to come screaming and raging from the core of our being, but we’re too busy performing. We are too busy trying to do good, so our heart never actually discovers what it’s like to live authentically. Until we discover that to be is enough, we will never begin to do from a full heart. Until we learn to rest, we can only build cardboard kingdoms. But once we learn to be, once we see with our hearts just how painful the world is, then our compassion will give us a true reason to live. Then, we will do anything to release meaning in our lives and in others. Then, and only then, will meaning become concrete, and the deepest longings of the heart fulfilled. I’m starting to find that kind of meaning in my life. I invite you to do the same.

Give Me A Reason To Live

I’m discovering a whole new dimension of what it means to be human. It’s called “the search for meaning.” A lot of people think they are searching for meaning, but they really haven’t become enough of a person to know how to do it. They are still stuck trying to “do” instead of “be,” which inhibits them from ever actually finding any real meaning. Let me explain…

Growing up, I always thought it was my job to fix everyone around me. I had been assigned the role of creating a Utopian environment where everyone was happy. Granted, no one ever said it out loud, and some of it was completely self-inflicted, but that was my role nonetheless. I don’t know if I caught this disease ridden thinking from church or my family, but both certainly reinforced it.

My church told me it was my job to get people saved. If I didn’t, they would go to hell forever, and when they got to the front of the line to heaven’s gates and were turned away, they would look at me as they walked towards damnation and cry “Why didn’t you tell me?” But they forgot to mention that it’s the kindness of God, and not my own works, that leads people to repentance (Romans 2:4). My church also said that if I loved God with all my heart, and I paid my tithe, and obeyed the Bible, and loved my enemies, and honored my parents, that my life would be amazing. They said that my family would be financially blessed, that marriages would be made whole, that hearts would be healed, and that the world would be a better place. All I had to do was be perfect all the time, and all this would happen! But they forgot to mention that it’s Jesus’ sacrifice, not my striving, that changes the world. They also forgot to mention that people are stubborn and blind and broken and beautiful and confused and sometimes you can do everything right and none of it will work.

They forgot to mention those days when you sit in your room crying, saying “God, how can this be happening? I thought I was in Your will…”

Or the days when the person you were sure God would heal of cancer dies.

The day when the woman who always wanted to be a mother discovers she’s infertile.

The day when the marriage you prayed into for 20 years fails.

The days when you wonder why God has forsaken you. (Psalm 22)

We live in a fallen world, writhing under the weight of sin, and sometimes it crushes us. The church lays out it’s paper plans and it’s cardboard kingdoms, then the world fires a nuclear missile. As the flames subside, the charred masses look to the church for direction, and through their scarred eyes, the same old cardboard religion looks fresh, alive, and secure. The masses rebuild their paper bomb shelters, sure that this time they built it well enough to withstand anything. Then they burn once more. I lived like this for 19 years. I was convinced that if I just followed the plan well enough, I could save everyone. If the missile destroyed everything, I was sure it was because I hadn’t done a good enough job of building. I was completely performance oriented.

Most churches breed us to behave this way, and I was a shining example. I thought this was meaningful. After all, fixing the entire world is the most meaningful thing you could ever do, right? I was doing, and by doing enough, I would one day not have to worry anymore about fixing anything, because it would all be fixed. On that day all the years of life feeling empty would suddenly be replaced by fullness! It didn’t matter that I was ignoring my feelings and my needs. I was sacrificing for Jesus. I was carrying my cross, dying to myself, sowing good seed. That’s what Jesus wants us to do, right?

I didn’t notice that I was hurting, because “hurting” wasn’t my calling. I didn’t notice I was broken, because fixing myself would be far to costly to everyone else. I was a brain surgeon dying of brain cancer. And all the while, I thought I was being holy. Then came college. Then came a reason to live…

Stay tuned for Part 2. I’ll be posting it on July 14th.

Remembering What You Never Knew

The Kingdom of Heaven is like an old house, filled with all of your most precious childhood memories. Except, you have amnesia.

You are walking down what to you is just another street, filled with other people’s houses, other people’s lives, wondering about your own. But this one house…this one house seems to call to you. As you look at it, your heart warms, and you are drawn to the front door, which seems to open at your lightest touch.
The walls carry the aroma of a well used kitchen, as if the home cooked meals and chocolate chip cookies are still in the house somewhere, fresh out of the oven. You walk up the stairs and into one of the bedrooms. It feels so…familiar… You notice a picture frame on the dresser, and walk over to see who it is of. Your chest gets heavy, almost too full, as you realize that the picture is of you and your daddy. He has the most loving eyes…

I think we expect the kingdom of heaven to be new sometimes, as if we are discovering something no one else has ever discovered, as if the Kingdom is the last frontier. In a sense, it is. Yet, it’s the oldest thing in the universe. God’s reality predates time itself. What’s even stranger, and even more beautiful, is you have always been a part of it. Ephesians 1 says you were chosen before the foundation of the world. At the cross, Jesus fully reconciled you to Himself. He had you in mind that day he died. For thousands of years, you have been in the family, part of the story, mystically wrapped in the blanket of His eternal kingdom. You enter the kingdom for the first time, only to discover it was always yours.

I find this to be true in my life, like I’m remembering something I never knew before. You know it’s the first time you’ve ever touched the truth you’re encountering, but somehow it feels like remembering, like you’ve always known. My friend Doug said this to me a few weeks ago, and I didn’t know if I believed him, but the more I think about it, the more I realize he’s right. Not always, but often, when I’m spending time with God, and he shows me his heart, or his plans for me, or I read His word, it’s like I’ve been there before. It’s as if I’m reconnecting myself to the ancient dreams of heaven, the pre-existent realities that give meaning and something concrete to my very existence.

Mormons think we were spirit children in heaven before we were born, sent to earth on journey that ends in our return to our true family and our original home, heaven. I can see why they would think that. When you accept the gift of relationship with Jesus, when the work of the cross rewrites you into a new creation, you become one with Him. You are so intertwined with the preeminence of God that it almost feels like you were there when he breathed into Adam’s dust. You are one with the Vine of Love that always has been. See, God has always been in the kingdom. He IS the Kingdom. Now He is one with you. Now, the Kingdom is within you, and you are within it. Real Love isn’t just a new thing you get to experience; it’s the oldest thing that you always knew you were created for. The cross didn’t happen to some man named Jesus 2,000 years ago, it happened to your closest friend ten minutes ago, and you were there. Discovering the kingdom isn’t just finding new things, it’s unlocking eternal memories. It’s discovering who He was, is and will be. It’s discovering who you always were.

The process of becoming then, is also the process of remembering. Erasing the amnesia that was caused when we hit our head after the Fall.

I want to invite you to explore a scripture with me. Romans 5:12: “Wherefore as by one man sin entered into this world, and by sin death; and so death passed upon all men, in whom all have sinned.” In Adam, all have sinned. There are four different theological perspectives on this verse, and to get into them all would be superfluous, but let it suffice to say that you fell along with him. In the fall, Heaven became a dream, and barren earth became reality. Imputed amnesia was passed on to you, amnesia that caused you to forget who you really were made to be. Now, every human finds himself walking on that street, looking for the house of the Father, that holds all of the memories we have always hoped were true, but can’t actually remember.  But Jesus unlocked the house. He led you to the street. He’s the reason you opened the door. Jesus is the grand unlocker of the memories of the universe. He’s the grand unlocker of the secrets of your heart. His brightness burns away the haze, and His kindness melts away our defenses. He fills our whole bodies with light, and suddenly we see what was always true. Suddenly, we remember…

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For more on reality, and what it really is, read this. (A Taste of Reality)

For more on Romans 5, read Karl Barth’s “Christ and Adam”

For more on our union with God, read this. (Union)

I’ve also started a page for recommended books, movies, etc. look in the upper right of this site to find that!

Union

When it comes to true sex, skin gets in the way…

I was thinking about that the other day. I don’t have much experience with sex. I’ve never had sex at all, strictly speaking. But I have had moments in my life, especially recently, when I think to myself “skin gets in the way.” It’s like you can’t be close enough to that other person. It’s not enough to be next to them, holding them, talking to them, listening to them… It’s like you want so badly to melt into the other person, to be so one with them that you can’t tell where they end and you begin. You don’t just want to know what they think, you want to think their thoughts. You don’t want to just be with them, you want to be them. But not in a way where you are rejecting you, or who you are, or your own identity. More like you want your self to absorb  into theirs, to where it doesn’t matter what is “your” identity anymore. It’s really beautiful, and quite possibly what relationship is all about…Recently, I’ve been thinking a lot about union. About our relationship with God. About how Jesus says that he came to bring us into union with Him:

He’s the vine, we’re the branches.

He’s in God, we’re in Him.I no longer live,

but Christ in me.More and more, I started seeing connections:

“For this reason, the man leaves his father and mother and cleaves to his wife, and the two become one flesh.  (Ephesians 5:31)  For what reason?

Union. Being so lost in the other person that you don’t know where you end and they begin. That desperate desire to share the sam
Then comes verse 32:e skin.

“This mystery is great, but I’m speaking about Christ and the Church.”

So this is really about that. And here’s what’s crazier. It’s already that right now.

The Union that we read about in the Bible is not a future thing. It’s a now thing. The cross accomplished the union. We live in this strange tension of being already in union and not yet experiencing it. We get tastes, glimpses, and progressively live more and more from that place of union, but it’s a process. Jesus saw that skin gets in the way, so he decided to go ahead and live inside you. He knew that the old you was too seperate to ever be one with Him, so he crucified you and gave you a new you. One that was no longer you living, but Christ living in you. It’s wild. You are now fully you, yet completely Christ at the same time. When the blood and water flowed mingled down, you melted right into Him…

Now, you don’t just listen to His thoughts, you have His mind. (1 Cor 2:16) You’re not just with Him, you are one body IN HIM. (John 17, Eph 5, Phil 2) Although Christ is progressively opening your eyes to this revelation (Eph 1:17-19), the union is already complete in the cross and ressurection. Jesus’ sacrifice really was enough. You are absorbed into the vine.

So what does this mean now? For me it means I’m not actually a part of this culture anymore. I’m actually living in two realities right now, even if I don’t realize it, even when I don’t feel like it. I’m in union with the universal creator of all humanity. I’m in union with the one who transcends every culture, every philosophy, every religion, and yet is found within all of them. (See my note at the end of this post for more clarity on what I mean here) I sometimes think about how seperate I feel from other cultures, other ways of thinking. In my less glorious moments, I even think that my Western culture is somehow better than other cultures, as if Capitalism and Democracy are somehow inherently Godly. I forget to remember that the Union Jesus gave me is a union he gave to every person on the planet if they want it. It’s a union that allows every culture to tap into the universal truths that God Himself set into motion, to feel what it means to be truly human, and to be fully alive. I forget that while I may not know how to interact with the tough questions of Athiests, or the broken cries of homosexuals that wonder why “Christians” hate them so much, I’m in total union with someone who does know. He loves, and He transcends all of my shortcomings and ignorance. The point is relationship with Him, and He is really good at bringing people to Him.

When you are enjoying union with another person long enough, you start to talk like them. Your mannerisms rub off on each other. Studies have even shown that your DNA makes minor adjustments to where you both begin to LOOK like each other! We are in union with a person named Jesus, and we are becoming more and more like him every day. The more we enjoy this union, and drink in the love of God, the more we manifest that union. In the process though, my goal is to be so transparent that you can see Jesus through me. The more honest I am about how I don’t have all the answers, only an incredible relationship, the more people will see Him and be drawn to Him. I don’t have to be perfect, or mister Evangelist, I just have to be honest.

I have the ultimate Union. That means that when I’m real, transparent, honest, the vine starts bearing fruit, and fruit of that union feeds a starving world effortlessly.

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(Let me tell you what I’m not saying. I’m not saying all religions are true. I’m not saying that all roads lead to Jesus. I’m not saying that those who follow other Gods are following the truth. I’m saying that God is the Logos (John 1). He is within all things (Col 1:17). Even wrong religions have a hint of Him, which is why people grab onto them. They taste a bit of truth, and they hunger for more. It is our job as Christians not to try to disprove every religion, but to reveal that the thing they value as true and alive in their religion is actually just a small bit of Jesus surrounded by a lot of not-Jesus. Christianity never claimed to be the only place to find truth, only to be the entire truth. For more on this, see C.S. Lewis’ writings on hell, salvation, and the afterlife. I specifically reccommend the Great Divorce, Mere Christianity, The Collected Letters of C.S. Lewis: Volume III, and Aslan’s dialogue with Emeth in The Last Battle.)

(Some of the concepts in this post are building on or borrowing from Blue Like Jazz by Donald Miller and Sex.God. by Rob Bell. They are my original thoughts, but both these authors discuss some of these topics, and I feel I owe them a mention. If you haven’t read these books, I recommend them. )

A Taste of Reality

Ever heard someone say “it’s time to face reality?” What they usually mean is “stop living in this fantasy world where everything works out perfectly and you don’t have to do anything to make it happen” or “get in touch with how crappy life really is!” Lately, I’ve been thinking about reality…

Reality is the world is broken, nasty, and filled with pain.

Yet, reality is that hope and love are abstract forces that fuel the human race to overcome brokenness, nastiness and pain.

Reality is loved ones die, and it breaks our hearts.

Yet, reality is that our broken hearts, that ache we feel, inherently points us toward a knowledge that something is wrong about death. This abstract concept of eternity, and unending relationship with others burns within our hearts.

Reality is that today, “sinners” are turned off to God by “Christian people,” because the Christian church is filled with corruption, deception, hypocrisy, and judgement.

Yet, reality is that the Jesus that all Christian churches claim to follow was none of those things.

We talk about “reality” and “being realistic,” but I think there’s more to it. The concreteness of pain makes it hard to believe in things like hope, love, and Jesus. Losing a loved one to cancer or an unexpected accident makes us doubt if there is a good God with a plan, or if He cares at all… The concrete world around us, the most tangible things we know, the things we tend to experience the most, make life worse. “Facing reality” is a terrible thing…

Unless you look behind the “concrete.” Pain hurts, but it only hurts to let us know that something is wrong. There is a higher, maybe even more real reality happening all around us, just hidden from view, all the time. So, what if we began to live there?

What would happen if those abstract realities behind this one became the “taste of reality” that we experienced all the time? What would that look like? How would it make us feel? How would we make others feel? It would be like living in a whole different realm, while at the same time, interacting with this one. It would be like pulling off the filthy rags draped over the barren desert of life to reveal the oasis of Eden underneath. It might look a lot like what Jesus called the Kingdom coming on earth as it is in heaven. 

I’ve watched two great super-hero movies recently: The Dark Knight and The Avengers. I highly recommend them. In each movie, there is a moment where a main character makes a choice to inspire hope and life in the world, yet in both cases, the “hero” lies to make this happen. In The Dark Knight, they pretend that a good man did not turn bad so that the people will still believe in good men. In The Avengers (don’t worry, no spoilers), they twist a story to make it more emotionally impactful so the heroes will find the motivation to work together. They inspire people to pursue the higher reality by lying about this one! Am I the only one who sees something wrong here?

Jesus came to bring life that you can pick up and throw. He came to bring healing that sneaks up out of nowhere and smacks you in the face. He came to bring love like a fire hydrant blasting you over and drenching you to the core. He came to drive hope through you til you burst with Heaven’s light. He came to aboslutely, positively, overpower your “taste of reality” with a mouthful of Heaven. The problem with Hollywood is it knows this higher reality is real, and it knows that this reality is the point, but without Jesus, there is not enough substance to get us there.  So they say you have to lie, twist, and stretch the truth to make it reach the good that you cannot  attain by simply being honest.  Lies are not meant to prop truth up in its place.

But here’s the real kicker: We as Christians do the same thing.

We sell what we haven’t tasted. We know those higher things are the point, but we twist and stretch what our actual experience is so we can get people to the good we know they should attain. We’ve believed this lie that the Kingdom of Heaven is less real than our current reality, not real enough to overpower the world around us. We’ve bought into the perversion of calling what’s wrong in life reality, instead of recognizing that even our knowledge that it is wrong is only proving that there is a right that all humanity is seeking.

We’ve lowered the kingdom of God to some form of magic that we don’t know the secrets to yet. It’s like God is the shy magician that only works his magic when no one is paying attention.We think prayer would work– if we could convince God just the right way then “poof!” magically better! Then, even when he does do something, we have this voice in the back of our mind saying “gee, I sure hope that was real magic, not just smoke and mirrors. I could use some real magic from this God, because things are hard. Please let that be real.” Looking back on it, we wonder if it was a one time show, or if he will ever be gracious enough to work his magic again.

I’ve seen about 6 instant miracles with my own eyes, and I’ll tell you that the most shocking part is how concrete they are, how normal. No fireworks, no voice of God, no angel appearing or room shaking, just something that was off being instantly changed in front of your eyes. A limb just grows out, a muscle just starts regenerating, stuff just happens, and then it’s done. I imagine that was the most shocking thing to the disciples as well. Walking around, handing bread out, realizing “wow, it just keeps multiplying” or watching a crippled man walk and thinking “that was so simple; all he did was stand up!” Honestly, the normalcy of it makes it hard to believe at times. You saw it happen, but yet you always thought it would be a bigger deal, and when it isn’t, you’re shaken up a bit.

But here’s the coolest thing: once you’ve seen it happen a few times, seeing it happen becomes your new normal. It becomes more normal to see miracles than not. Seeing nothing happen becomes strange and hard to believe. Now, if a limb doesn’t grow out when I pray for it, I keep praying, because it doesn’t make sense that it wouldn’t grow out. That’s not true reality. Heaven’s reality is more real to me in certain areas than this one, so I live from Heaven and bring it to this less real earth. And, thus far, every person I’ve prayed for has been healed.

We don’t get people to the things like hope and love by denying reality. We get them there by showing them a reality that is more real than their reality. However, we first have to experience that more real reality ourselves. I won’t pretend to have tasted much of it, but I can genuinely say I’ve tasted a little bit. It’s so concrete, so real, that nothing I hear, nothing I see, nothing I encounter in this reality can shake it. All I can say is if you have never tasted that, or you have never seen a miracle with your own eyes, get restless. Don’t settle. Seek real reality. Don’t settle for the brokenness that helps you know there must be more, go get the more. Don’t pretend to have it when you don’t. Don’t sell others magic that is only illusion. If you know it’s not real, so will they.

But once you get a taste of True reality, of God’s real magic, the Kingdom of Heaven, it’s the death, pain and sadness that turn out to be smoke and mirrors. There’s no need to stretch truth; Heaven’s Reality has no artificial flavoring, no additives, and no filler needed. Heaven is reality, this is the illusion.

Coming Out of the Christian Closet

I’m an English Major. Specifically a Creative Writing Concentration English Major. One of the biggest things I love about being an English Major is the community that I’m surrounded with as a result. In my experience, English majors are honest. They’re not narrow minded, and they’re not afraid to live outside the box.

Today, I got to go see the movie Blue Like Jazz with some English Majors, and I was reminded yet again of why I do life with these people. This post is the result of that movie, and the conversation that followed…

Truth Hurts

Honesty is something that you just can’t buy, and if you could, it wouldn’t be all that honest anymore anyway. I’m not talking about when someone just tells the truth, like when some mobster agrees to reveal the dirty secrets about his 2nd cousin Tony who is secretly The Godfather in a courtroom if they pay him enough to do it. I’m talking genuine, raw, vulnerable, messy, ugly, beautiful truth. The kind that comes out when your pastor isn’t around to hear you. The kind that you’re still convinced God is ashamed of you for. The kind that Jesus died on the cross for.

See, truth is not something someone says, or does, or writes, or draws. Truth goes deeper than that. For it to really be truth, it has to be life too. I think that’s why Jesus said He is not only the Truth, but the Life as well. Because dead truth isn’t enough. When something’s true, you know it not because it’s the right answer, but because you feel it. Something alive in the core of your being cries out and says “YES! That is alive! That’s real! I need that!” But there is a problem with this kind of truth…

Your demons always come right out of that prayer closet, wearing the embarrassing undies that you meant to throw away months ago.Truth, like the Man who is the Truth, always exposes darkness, anywhere it can be found. It’s a well trained watchdog that can smell the secrets rotting in your basement from a mile away. It leaves you with nothing to hide behind. It leaves you with nothing but you; the real you. I think sometimes Christians hide from Truth. I think the Church is terrified of it.

It’s not that we mean to lie, we’re just insecure. Just like almost every other person on the planet. We’re afraid of what others might think of us if we show them the “real me.” we are afraid of being rejected, or of being alone. Sometimes, loneliness feels worse than hell itself.

And it’s not like these fears came from nowhere either. You can remember exactly where they came from. That dad who was never there. That mom who could never love. That neighbor or realative who…you stop before the memory surfaces and you have to face it again. Wounds, buried and locked away behind stone walls in the depths of our heart. We pretend their healed, but warm blood still drips from the coffin. We embalm ourselves in religion, in being “biblical” or “walking by faith,” wearing Jesus’ smile on eyeless masks. We condemn the world for hiding behind sex, drugs, and loose living, but the world sees through our false faces, just like we do. Truth takes off these masks, unlocks the tomb, and we’re forced to face the tragedy of ourselves.

Truth Heals

But this isn’t the end of the story. Truth never stops there.

While films, poems, novels and art may only awaken the life that Truth carries, Truth Himself always takes us the rest of the way, if we let Him. While a poem like “Daddy” by Sylvia Plath may only take off the mask and expose the truth of abuse, the living pain we feel will drive us to the Man who died to heal that pain. Truth shows the ugly for how ugly it really is, but it thrives on what is beautiful.

The problem with religious systems and Christian masks isn’t that they prevent Jesus from healing us; He’s so good He’ll work behind them. The real problem is that when Jesus is doing all the work behind closed doors, all the world sees is the hypocrite in front of them. I know, because I’ve been that hypocrite.

There is one friend from High School that I will never forget. Her name is Kelly. Kelly was a few grades below me in high school, and far more popular than I could have hoped to be. She was a cheerleader, she was bubbling with personality, and she was absolutely beautiful (actually, she still is). My heart was drawn to her in a profound way, and I loved that girl for exactly who she was. Before you assume it was a crush, I’ll explain that while sometimes I did feel that attraction, it was mostly something far deeper and more familial than that. I think it was because God gave me eyes to see her a bit like He sees her. I could see not only who she was, but who she was made to be. I could see the Kelly she would become, and trust me friends, it is spectacular. She was not a Christian, and she had no good reason to want to be one. Her life was filled with heartache, abandonment, and pain I’d rather not talk about. However, she was still curious.

We would talk a lot about each of our beliefs, partially because I wasn’t very good at talking about anything else, and she was a good listener. She thought I was a bit out there, but at least she’d hear me out. I remember one conversation in particular. This is the one I desperately wish I could re-write.

We were sitting at dinner, talking about who Jesus really is. I was telling her that He wasn’t who she had made Him out to be, and that He loved her at a level she couldn’t even fathom. Then I said this:

“He really is the best thing that could ever happen to you. His love is more satisfying than anything this world has to offer.”

This is true, and now I can stand behind it even more than I could then, but I was lying when I said it. I remember looking into her eyes, my heart raw with Jesus’ heart for her, saying those words with tears in my eyes…all the while thinking in the back of my mind “I hope she doesn’t see that I don’t even know if this is true yet.” I wanted it to be true more than anything. My church said it was true, and the bible taught it to be true, but that was not my truth. As I talked about in my previous post, I was living hollow. I had never been satisfied like the satisfaction I was offering. I was still bleeding out under that mask. Although I had seen miracles, and I knew God existed, and I had genuinely felt His love, I was not healed enough to declare something so profound. To me, God was still the God of mostly enough; the God of “I love you, but I’ll never show you like you want Me to.” I was offering a Jesus I hoped to meet myself as if I already knew Him at that level. I was offering her my mask.

The hardest part is she took it. She came to an event at my church, and God genuinely touched her. She began a real relationship with Him that night, and I believe that she started that day was 100% legitimate, but she took my mask too. She gave her heart to Jesus, which brings me joy that I can’t put into words, but she also took my theology that I’d preached in the weeks before. She took my “more satisfying than anything” hook, line and sinker. She expected to experience that because I said it like it was what I’d experienced. Life kept hurting, and her faith didn’t live up to that expectation. She became quickly disillusioned, and our friendship began to fracture. Things became awkward between us and we stopped talking as much. I think I destroyed her trust in me. I haven’t had a conversation with her in nearly two years. Partially, because I’ve been to ashamed to admit that I failed her. I still wonder how things would have went if that conversation had gone more like this:

“Kelly, I’ll be honest with you… I still haven’t found total satisfaction. God hasn’t healed all my problems or made my life perfect. Sometimes, I wonder if He is really even the most important thing to me. I’m still broken, hurting, and confused, but I know He is real. I know that Jesus is the most loving Man I have ever met, and I know He will be gentile with your heart. He won’t force Himself on you, even though sometimes my abrasiveness may make it feel that way (I’m still working on that one). He’ll be kind to you, and He will heal everything you are willing to give Him. It won’t happen in your timing, and sometimes you’ll feel like He’s not even listening, but somehow you’ll always know He is. He won’t make everything all better all of the sudden, but he will make everything better than it could ever be without Him. Kelly, I still don’t have it all figured out, but I know 3 things: He is real, He is God, and He loves. Without this Man in your life, I promise you that something will be missing. God created you to know Him, and you’ll never be complete until you do.”

I’m not sure if that’s the best answer. I’m not even sure if it’s all theologically sound. But I am sure it is true. It has no mask, and it would let her see that while I’m still wounded, the Healer is at work. I could say that without thinking in the back of my head that I might be lying. I could say that and know what I’m saying isn’t a fairy tale or wishful thinking. I could know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I was pointing her towards the Way, the Truth and the Life. Because in the end, Truth is a Man, and to know that Man is the only thing I have found that’s worth living for.

***

And Kelly, If you’re reading this, I’m sorry. Know that I never meant to let you down, and that I was never being your friend just to convert you. You are incredible, and you are worth my time. I’m still here if you ever want to talk, and I miss you my friend.