False Advertising: It's Easy

Is being a Christian easy?

 

The Christian faith is far from easy!  It's a daily dying to self!  It's full of sacrifice!  You must adopt a nature that's foreign to you!  It's a marathon, not a sprint!

 

Okay.  Great.

 

But your ad for Jesus here indicates that that might not always be true?

 

I'm told being a Christian is as easy as just believing God and accepting His grace.  And all of the people in the church seem to act like being holy is so easy, but I've tried, and it isn't.  I hate having to try to be holy, and I mess it up all the time.  So what gives--am I just weak?  Or is being a Christian much harder than a lot of people make it look?

 

~~

 

You've cut me off at the knees with these posts, you might say.  I'm just supposed to sit quietly by as the world does things I don't like?  I'm supposed to bear it all with peace and a smile?  No way!  That's too hard!

 

I get it.  I'm with you 100%.

 

We all have areas where we struggle to look like Jesus.

 

Take it from me.  I'm messy.  When my circumstances got ugly, I got fed up like anyone would.  And then, I have had to take steps to clean up my anger and frustration, folding them and stacking them according to color and size, and then with little warning, I've yanked them back out and tossed them around the room.

 

One step forward, two steps back.

 

I've had the habit of undoing what I've done, for at times the cleaning up felt helpful to my sanity.  At other times, letting it all come undone is what kept me from losing my sanity.

 

I've struggled with notions of unfairness. I've experienced consequences I didn't deserve, and it sucks.  There have been days where I have wanted to yell and scream and cry instead of putting on a good little holy face.  I've wanted to be mad.  I've longed for justice and for God to smack my situation into a state of eternal rightness.

 

I've struggled with applying forgiveness to a seemingly unforgivable situation.  I've vowed that even if God were to provide me a forgiveness paint-by-number, I still wouldn't be able to figure it out.

 

And boy have I bucked when God has pricked my heart to be the bigger person when it makes my skin crawl.

 

I've had to remind myself constantly that this is what I signed up for as a Christian--rarely easy, mostly hard.  It's like being an older sibling who sees a younger one get away with everything while experiencing consequences for the most minor of offenses, all in the name of being the one who knows better.

 

I do.  Being His child, I know better.  I know I'm not supposed to exist with grudges or unforgiveness.

 

I know all of that.  I have no problem knowing better.  But I can't always do better.

 

There have been days it has brought me to my knees because I've understood how lowly I am beneath Him.  How futile my efforts are without Him.  That I could have never been the one to be whipped and tormented for the sins of the world when I've barely been able to muster the words "I forgive you" to someone who wronged me.

 

And then there have been days I've wanted to raise my fist to the skies and shout, "KNOCK IT OFF, GOD!" Because surely He gets that I've sometimes reached my limit when He allows another heaping helping of gross onto my plate.  I've been mad when I consider that He could choose to wipe hard things away, and He doesn't.  And I've thought about all the times He let a deliberate amount of justice come to pass upon people who did a bunch of wicked things in the Old Testament.

 

I've wondered, where is the God who struck down cities?  Who fell a nasty giant with a stone?

 

Many days, I want turning-over-the-money-tables Jesus.  I want the Jesus who can scatter pompous naysayers with a stick and some fresh sand.  I want the Jesus with edge. With fire.  With spunk.  And instead, I tend to get the zenned-out seventy-times-seven Jesus who sits calmly on a hillside telling me to love my enemy.

 

And quite frankly, most of the time, I don't want to.

 

Tell me to do anything else.  I won't cheat on my husband.  I won't kill anyone or steal my favorite lip gloss from the nearby MAC store.  I won't worship fourteen-carat horses or demand Aquafina from a rock like Moses.  I can follow those all day long.  All day every day.  Not a problem.

 

But have grace and forgive?

 

Nope, sorry.  I can't do that.

 

It is hard--so, so hard--to be what He asks of us.

 

Our nature is to look out for and protect ourselves, and when we invite His nature to be a part of us, the two often crash.  Our priority is us; His priorities focus on others.

 

There's a tug of war that persists.  Sometimes, He wins out, and others we refuse to budge.  And then, maybe we let Him win enough times that we think we've got it down! And then He throws us a curve ball that can make us feel like we're back to square one.

 

It is a marathon.  It is a journey.  And an imperfect one at that.

 

But don't let the hardness of it keep you from experiencing the greatness of it.  Those moments when you finally understand what He meant by the "peace that surpasses all understanding."

 

Those moments you find you're able to lay something down at His feet.

 

Those moments you find you can forgive what you thought you couldn't.

 

Those moments you find joy when there is an overwhelming push to be discontent.

 

Those moments that someone else finally notices that you're different.

 

You are different, and what a beautiful, broken, and redeemed kind of different it is!  It reminds me of the picture our friend Jon Guerra paints in the song "Stained Glass":

Show me what you see when You look at me

Show me what is real more than what I feel

We are stains, it's true

But when Your light shines through

We all look like stained glass windows to You

 

We are only different when we let His light shine through our brokenness.

So no.  I can't lie, friend.  The Christian life is a doozie.  You'll mess it up and watch it all come back redeemed.  You'll wish for it to be easier and then be proud of yourself for enduring.  You'll strive and push against the faults in this world, and you may think things could never be different.

 

And then one day, you'll wake up and realize that something is different.

 

And that thing will be you.

 

~~

 

So go out, friend, and take heart.  You are trying your best, no doubt.  But as the days carry on, I hope for great success for you.

 

I hope that people look at you and don't just see someone who wants to be right.

 

I hope that people look at you and don't just see someone who follows the rules.

 

I hope that people look at you and don't just see someone who hopes they get what they deserve.

 

I hope that people look at you and don't just see someone who thinks that they're better.

 

I hope that people look at you and don't just see someone who can't be offended.

 

I hope that people look at you and don't just see someone who makes it look easy.

 

I hope the world looks at you.

 

And I hope they see Jesus.

False Advertising: Only the Holy

Can Christians only be around holy things and people?

 

Certainly not!  We are to be in the world but not of the world!  We can't witness to the sinners if we aren't in their presence!

 

Okay.  Well, but your ad here for Jesus indicates that that might not always be true?

 

Because Christians don't seem to be able to tolerate "unholy stuff."  In fact, they seem to parade around yelling that anything and everything and everyone offends them.  What gives?

 

~~

 

This is certainly one of the most vocalized false advertisements I've seen lately.

 

There have been many changes in the last few years with the advent of different lifestyles and passing of laws, and many Christians are none too impressed with such social and cultural shifts. 

 

And the response is quite....how do I say it kindly? Lacking in maturity.  There is covering of ears and eyes, stamping of feet, and cries of, "Don't allow that!  I'm offended by that!  YOU'RE PERSECUTING ME!!"

Kim Davis cried "persecution" when her job suddenly required her to issue marriage licenses to homosexual couples.  It didn't matter that she could have graciously and humbly and QUIETLY abdicated her role as county clerk because she didn't feel right about the new law.  She was being "persecuted" because the rules suddenly weren't what her specific religion condoned.  No one beat her for her beliefs or tried to murder her or anything of the sort.  She was expected to follow the law or remove herself.  Instead of doing the hard thing and resigning, she shut herself in her office and refused to comply with the new law in an attempt to force her county to do things the way of her belief system.

 

Persecution this is not.

 

There are folks who run bakeries who feel "persecuted" because now they must bake cakes for gay weddings or risk losing business by publicly indicating that they don't serve homosexual customers.  It's not fair!  They're infringing on my beliefs!  I shouldn't have to sacrifice my profits or my convictions!

 

Persecution this is not.

 

We aren't being persecuted because certain things that align with our faith didn't win out in a fair vote. 

 

We are offended because the world doesn't play by our rules.  The world isn't acting holy enough, and we can't handle it.

 

WAKE. UP.

 

We can decide to be offended or not.  And I find it amusingly necessary to have to remind us all (including myself) that Christians shouldn't have to be babied! 

By the nature of our beliefs, we swim upstream.  It is a path we chose, and we should anticipate--nay, EXPECT!--opposition.  If we're too busy cowering under the claim of pretend persecution, how will we ever be able to be a shining light for Jesus?!  No one said this would be easy!  And we aren't expected to be alone!

 

But we are expected to handle it better than we have.

 

The Bible tells us to be joyful always, especially when things are difficult and oppose us, not to cry and run away!

 

If you are firm in your convictions, great!  What strength you must have!  And you should never place yourself in a situation that is likely to cause you to fall.  But you are not completely excused from dealing with offensive situations. 

Dealing with vomit makes me ill to no end.  But what kind of mother would I be if I refused to take care of Harlow when she got a stomach bug?  What if I cried offense every time she was sick or did something wrong?

 

What kind of nurse would I be if I refused to ever take care of a patient who was infected?  What if I refused to care for anything but people who were well?

 

The same kind of Christian I would be if I only dealt with people who had it all together and saw the world exactly as I do.

 

Worthless.

 

My job as a mother entails taking another human being who has no idea about the ways of the world and teaching her, nurturing her, and caring for her.

 

My job as a nurse is to help those who are unwell become healthy.

 

And my job as a Christian is to point the lost to Jesus.

 

We can't be comfortable all the time.  If we are, the chances are high that we're not doing our job.

 

Consider when we are sick--no it isn't fun, and no we don't seek out sickness, but it isn't something we can avoid either, and in the end, the experience isn't worthless--we build antibodies and often immunities against it.  Our bodies learn how to be prepared for it and handle it when we encounter it again.  Our bodies gain wisdom from being in the presence of things that are toxic.  No, it isn't the state our bodies are intended to be in, but it doesn't mean that the experience is entirely evil either.

 

What if being around someone or something "offensive" allowed you to gain insight into where that offense comes from?  What if it put you on another level with the person?  What if it allowed them to open up to you?  What if it produced vulnerability?

 

Are we willing to be kind and gracious to someone even when they are offending us?

 

I think often of Elisabeth Elliot and her incredible testimony.  She and her husband Jim were missionaries, and Jim was killed in 1956 by the Auca tribe in Ecuador while attempting to reach them for Christ.  Instead of being angry or offended or crying persecution (which, in this case, it actually was persecution), she went there herself and took over ministering to the people who murdered her husband.

 

Were they holy?  Nah.

 

Were they offensive?  Yes.

 

But did she use those as reasons to write them off and stay away?  No way.

 

I understand.  I get that you don't enjoy when people curse.  When they drink in front of you or talk about all of the sex they've had.  When they talk about all of the social issues you can't support.  When they're crude and vulgar.

 

I understand how easy it is to want to turn away and tell them to knock it off.  To run away.

 

But if you can just look past it--endure it for a time if possible--you might see the soul beneath the offense.  The one that deserves to be loved and deserves a chance.  The one who needs to see someone live something better.  The one that needs a hand to hold until they are well.

 

Don't be the Christian who only sits with the well--they don't need you.

 

Find ways to do your job--wherever that may take you.

 

I read a blog post recently about a woman who was invited to go to a strip club with the ladies of her church.  They would take the dancers hot meals, give them smiles and warm words and leave.  Eventually, the ladies placed a box for prayer requests backstage, and they started a Bible study for the women who worked there.

 

What's typically seen as a dirty and unholy place to Christians was seen as an opportunity to love on an oft-forgotten and shunned group of women.

 

There were no cries of offense or persecution for their scandalous lifestyles.  They put aside whatever discomfort they might have felt for the purpose of loving others.

 

To be clear, I understand that there are certain situations that are triggers or much too tempting for certain believers, and you should take care to be wise in what areas of "offense" you choose to visit.

 

Otherwise, don't be afraid to dwell in the "depths," all while doing your best to keep true to your convictions and remaining as blameless as you can.

 

So, you find something offensive?  Okay, then don't you do it!  But don't necessarily stay away from the people who do.

 

Go where you find offense, and be what that offensive situation needs--someone who can show the light, love, and grace of Jesus.

False Advertising: I'm Better Than You

How do I compare to super pious Christians?  Are they better than I am?

 

No!  We are all equal in God's eyes!  All of us are sinners and in need of God.  There are no favorites!

Okay.  Great.

 

But your ad here says that might not be true?  The way I hear things from Christians, I'm not as good as those who don't struggle with anything or those who have been saved much longer than I have.  I'm not as good as those who are Sunday school teachers or deacons or elders.  I don't offer a lot of money, and I'm not on any committees.  I'm not as good as the people who are visibly and clearly going above and beyond.

 

So what's the deal--are super religious Christians better than everyone else or not?

 

~~

 

76 to pass.  That was all anyone needed to become a nurse at my school.  It didn't matter if you failed one test but passed all of the others--

 

76.  That was all you needed.

 

Me?  I wanted better than that.  I pushed myself because "just enough" wasn't just enough for me.  I wanted to graduate at the top of my class.  I wanted all As! Summa cum laude!

And even though I worked my tail off--working on 20-page care plans on Friday nights, waking up at 5:00 am to go to clinicals, memorizing every side effect of every drug that ever existed--I received my diploma no differently from those who squeaked by with a 76.

 

And today?  No one I take care of knows what I made on my Pharmacology tests.  They don't know if I aced all of Health Assessment or if I bombed a few quizzes or tests.

 

Because it doesn't matter.  I met the requirement of what I needed to, and because of that, I am an RN.

 

Was it fair that I spent all of my free time working toward the As when others partied all night and escaped with Cs?

 

Aiming higher for my own personal sense of accomplishment was my choice.  No one asked anything further of me.  But there were times I resented those who got by.

 

And when it comes to matters of the faith, is it true that we do the same?

 

If we take the Bible for what it says--if it's really about what we believe and not what we do--then we have no choice but to believe that a person can live his life with total disregard for the Lord and then make a commitment of faith on his death bed and go to heaven.

 

And those of us who spend our whole lives being "good"--yes, those of us who say we hope everyone will be reached with the good news of salvation--don't we resent a little bit the people who get by with that last-minute profession of faith?

 

Don't we resent the people who don't try so hard?  Who slack off and take full advantage of grace?

 

Boy, do I ever--and admittedly, that's a sour attitude to have.

 

Do you ever feel that way, too?

 

How?  you may ask.  How does God give the same reward to people who give such varying degrees of effort?  How could He give equal benefit to such unequal lives?

 

Consider that you long to have a child for the first time.  Perhaps it is difficult to conceive, and you have to undergo fertility treatments--drugs, IUI, IVF.  Perhaps you need a surrogate or to adopt.  Perhaps your baby comes early because of complications.  Perhaps everything goes normally until the very end, when your delivery doesn't go exactly as you had planned.

 

And then.

 

Then.

 

The time comes when you hold that precious baby in your arms for the first time.  She smells of that newborn smell.  She coos her soft coos.  She smiles as she drifts off to sleep.  She grabs your finger tightly in the palm of her hand.

 

And things feel so complete.

 

At that moment, is your first thought Boy, I wish you'd found some other way of getting here.

 

Or rather, However you got here, I'm just glad you're here.

 

I don't at all mean to gloss over the truth here, in that God plainly calls His children to live lives set to a higher standard, to aim for blamelessness, to be kind and compassionate and forgiving and full of grace.  In no way do I mean to encourage slacking off in a relationship with God or taking advantage of His marvelous gift of grace.

 

If anything, I hope to give your heart pause for consideration when comparison comes to steal your joy.

 

You aren't better.  They aren't worse.

 

And at the end of this life, you may be standing beside one another in heaven.

 

And being in heaven at all means you've all met the requirement of what He's asked of you.

 

Grace is the great equalizer.

 

Have you ever (secretly, of course!) hoped that some people won't make it into heaven because--as you saw it--they just didn't deserve it like you do?

 

I'll go first--I've absolutely had thoughts like that!  Not necessarily that I would ever condemn someone to hell (okay, okay, maybe on my WORST day), but maybe just not prayed as hard for them?

 

Do you ever think that? Being completely honest with yourself--are there people you'd be disappointed to see in heaven because it would reflect a truly warped sense of all that is good and holy?!

 

This topic comes up regularly with me and Brooks whenever one of us has to deal with frustrating relationships, and one night he provided me with a pearl of wisdom.

 

"What if," he began, "when we get to heaven someday...we're enjoying to the fullest all that God has to offer.  It's wonderful and beautiful and perfect.  And then...what if we witness those people we struggle with make it to the gates of heaven.  What if they make it and we see the looks on their faces when they finally understand it all.  Would it not be more rewarding to us to see them get to heaven and say, 'We had no idea.  We had no idea what we were doing, and you prayed for us anyway.'  Wouldn't that be an infinitely better reward than seeing them suffer?"

 

I softened and pondered deeply.

 

I saw his point, and it broke a barrier within me.

 

God isn't rooting for me to win and anyone else to lose.

 

He's rooting for all of us.

 

Like the Tortoise and the Hare, I've blown past what I've deemed unworthy opponents with my sights set on a finish line.

 

And what I would never expect are dark horses creeping along, making mistakes but pushing through.

 

There isn't meant to be a winner.  We can take it slow, we can take it quickly.  We can make all As or just a 76.

 

We can make mistakes and keep going.

 

And in the end, there's a finish line that He's hoping we will cross.

 

First?  Last?  Perfect or not?  Who cares!

There is no better, no worse, no point in drawing a comparison.  It never really mattered anyway.

 

For however you got here.  However.

 

He's just glad you're here at all.

False Advertising: He's Gonna Get You

Does God really love me?

 

Yes!  God IS love!  He created you in His image and loves you as His child!  He loves you unconditionally!  Come and see!

 

Okay.  Great.

 

But your ad here says that might not be true?  At least not all the time.  It seems to me from what I read that He might just be out to get me when I do something wrong.

~~

I can think of no better example of this misconception than a conversation I had with a friend a few years ago.

 

"I knew God was going to get me for what I had done," she told me with a frown.  Her hands lay quietly in her lap, and she looked down.

 

She had done something years prior that she was very sorry for, and she had waited every day for God to react.

 

"And when my mom died, I thought--" she paused and let her mouth squirm in anguish, "--I thought, this is it.  This is my punishment for what I did."

 

The two things--her "mess-up" and the untimely death of her mother--were not closely related at all.  From an outside perspective, the two could have never been lumped together in the same category.

 

But in my friend's heart, she saw a clear line from A to B.  God had found what was precious to her and had taken it from her as a punishment.  And she accepted it as reality.

 

Do you fear God this way?  I know I have.

 

It isn't so much that I was told explicitly that God would seek me out for my sins and destroy my life, but I was taught to fear Him.  I read as a child of how God obliterated evil cities and groups of people, so why wouldn't He make me miserable for sinning, too?

And though I had subconsciously often operated out of fear in my walk with the Lord, I had never heard anyone say it out loud like she did that day, and hearing it felt like a knife to my heart.

 

Facebook is brimming with hateful comments from "Christians" out to terrify the unbelieving--and sometimes the believing.

 

God is going to get you, they say.  Watch your step.  You're going to be sorry.  You're going to hell.

 

Whoa, whoa, whoa.

 

At what point did someone going to hell become a "gotcha" moment in an argument?  A fate we should wish upon no person whatsoever--and it rolls off of our tongues so effortlessly.  And we do it with a self-satisfied, smug, holier-than-thou, I-hope-you-burn-for-eternity grin.

 

Friends, I beg of you to reconsider the way you speak to those who don't live as you do--whatever that looks like.

 

Stop insinuating that God only loves us when we're good.

 

Recently, Brooks took me to the GMA Honors Awards ceremony, where Russ Taff, a hit praise song composer and member of the Gaither Vocal Band, was being inducted into the Hall of Fame.  And when he accepted his award on stage, he clutched the statue and paused before humbly referring to the unsavory childhood he experienced.

 

I'll never forget what he said.

 

"I had a lot of trauma as a kid...and you know, you experience religion and everything," he said, giving the statement a flippant gesture with his hand.  But as he spoke his next words, he burst forth into tears, and he visibly swelled with joy.  "And then, you meet Jesus. And he loves you when you're good, and he loves you when you're bad.  He just loves you."

 

It's so simple.  

 

He loves you when you're good, and he loves you when you're bad.  He just loves you.

 

Why don't we know this better?  Why don't we live this better?

 

God is not out to make you miserable.  Yes, there can be natural, unpleasant consequences to choices we make, and He may often use uncomfortable things to draw us near to Him and to refine us, but God is never on a mission to ruin our lives.  Never.

Do I believe that when we make selfish or hurtful decisions that go against His best for us that He sometimes allows us to have what we want (warts and all) so we'll feel the need for Him and what it's like to really be left to our own devices? Yes, I do. I believe He has tools that feel uncomfortable that He uses to correct us out of love. 

But I don't believe we mess up and then He says, "Yikes. There it is, you fool. All right, your sister is getting it. Let me arrange a car wreck."

But don't we sort of believe this logic?

When something horrible and unpleasant comes your way (a la throwing up in the toilet from a stomach bug)--what tends to be our go-to reaction? 

Bargaining with God?

Oh, God, if you'll just let it stop, I'll never do X, Y, or Z ever again. 

Because our penchant is to believe that when something bad happens, it's because we did something bad to deserve it, and God is punishing us. 

 

And part of that comes from the false advertising that God is a vicious tyrant.  Yes, I believe God is just, and yes, I do believe there is a hell.  But there is also a choice.  And there is His gift of salvation.  And there is unconditional love and grace.

 

We are told in the Bible that God didn't send Jesus to condemn us but to save us. 

 

A hateful tyrant would have never offered His perfect Son as a free pass of survival.  He made things perfect, we screwed it up, and He still said, "I can make this right.  I can take care of things on my end.  All you have to do is believe."

 

You are not a pawn in a divine, sadistic chess game.  You are a perfectly loved child, and you deserve to believe that.  When you're good, when you're bad, He loves you.

 

In reality, I do hope He gets you.  I hope He finds you right where you are.  I hope He shows you things you've never known before.  I hope He gives you the best, most fulfilling life you deserve.  I hope He shows you a love like you've never understood.

 

I hope He gets you, friend.

 

I hope He gets you in His arms.

False Advertising: Amazing Rules

He clutches his chest and gulps.  The pain is overtaking him.  It's coursed and wound its way to his legs, weakening his step.

 

He can see the front door, the red letters lit amidst the backdrop of a midnight expanse.

 

He's lived with the ache and put it off, put it down, tried to ignore it, but he can't pretend anymore. The pain is there and it's real, and it's killing him.

 

But is it too late?

 

He stumbles and drags, clutching for the door, his heart pounding--

 

The door swings wide, and in he steps.

 

The walls are clean and white, and it's quiet, save for the occasional buzz of a desk phone.  He hears the page turn of a nearby patient chart scraping to a halt when the door closes behind him.

 

The few doctors and nurses whip their heads around.

 

The man, his mouth dry as cotton, forces the two words he needs to describe his situation:

 

"Help me," he whispers before collapsing to the floor, taking a sterile table and its supplies with him.

 

"INCOMING!" shouts the scrub-attired group, springing quickly into action.  Two grab monitors and equipment, while another few hoist the man onto a nearby bed.  He comes to, paralyzed beneath the hubbub that engulfs the gurney.  The fluorescent lighting--severe enough to see every cut, every bruise, every imperfection or symptom of its patients--wrinkles his forehead and causes him to blink and squirm.

 

"What do we have?"

 

"Hook him up!"

 

"Get me some leads!"

 

"Get an IV, stat!"

 

Disoriented and afraid, the man soon hears an ominous, rhythmic beeping to his left.  It's his heart, and his caregivers seem troubled by what appears on the screen.

 

"It's a heart attack," a doctor mutters gravely.

 

At the drop of his words, the crew immediately stops and falls silent.

 

"Are you sure?" a blonde nurse finally asks.  "Maybe it's something a little less serious."

 

The man flits his eyes among the countenance of each nurse.  "I don't understand," he finally manages to ask.  "Can't you save me? Can't you give me some medicine?"

 

The nurses side-eye one another.

 

"I don't have to die from this, right?" he asks, the sweat pouring down his face.

 

They're quiet once more, and the man becomes panicked.

 

"Your hospital--ah--it says--ugh--out front--ackk--that you specialize in heart care," he says between throbs of increasing pain.

 

"We do," a doctor finally speaks up.

 

"THEN WHY WON'T YOU HELP ME???"

 

"Because, well, you're a little too sick for us."

 

"WHAT?!"  the man shouts, his face turning purple.

 

"Yeah," the blonde nurse chimes in.  "I mean, we have something we could use to treat your heart attack, but...you don't qualify just yet based on our protocol."

 

The man grabs harder at his chest.  "Well what on God's green earth do I have to do to get help?!"

 

They look at each other.

 

"Well," a young man begins, "you could power walk around the block first!"

 

"Yeah!" says another.  "What if you ate an entire plate of green vegetables? Then we might be able to help you!"

 

"Or perhaps you can lift some weights!" exclaims the doctor.

 

The man, unable to understand what he's hearing, becomes desperate.

 

"You want me to do what?! I can't do those right now! You've got to save my life first!"

 

"What should we do then?" the blonde whispers to the doctor.  "He doesn't deserve our help yet."

 

"Then I guess we'll just have to wait.  If he won't do what we want in order to get the medicine, he must not really want it.  He must not really want to live," the doctor responds matter-of-factly.

 

The man, ripe with anger and adrenaline, hurls himself off of the table and drags himself as quickly as he can out the door.  And before he drifts into the night, his head pounding with pain and his body weak with little fight, he turns to shake his head at the bewildered team.

 

"Where are you going?! We can help you! You just have to follow the rules!" they yell.

 

"You can't help me," he says breathlessly.  "So I'm going to find someone or something that will."

 

And off he wanders, reaching into the night for something--anything--that will take him in.

 

For the ones that could refused.

 

~~

 

Are we saved by grace, or are we saved by our ability to keep the rules?

 

Grace!  Amazing grace, you say!  By the blood of Jesus spilled for my sins am I given the option of eternal life!  It doesn't matter what I've done, His blood covered it all forever and ever!  Amen!

 

Yes.  True.  Okay.

 

But your ad for Jesus here indicates that that may not always be true?

 

~~

 

I'm forbidden from being a deacon (and in some places singing in the choir) because I have a divorce in my past, even though I didn't want it and the grounds were biblical.  But it doesn't matter--I have a red mark that grace apparently can't fix when it comes to my ability to serve in the church.

Maybe you've had a baby out of wedlock, and the ladies of the church frown upon you.  It doesn't matter the circumstances.  Forever the living child--that you didn't abort!--is a red mark that colors who you are.  You were impure, and that makes you vile and dirty.  You may be forgiven in God's eyes, but you're treated differently because grace doesn't really cover that.

You had an abortion when you were much younger, and you keep it to yourself because if anyone in the church knew, they would turn their backs on you.   You feel shame for it, and you went through it alone because you knew those people wouldn't be there for you.  There's no grace for that decision at all, and maybe not even forgiveness.  Red mark.

Red marks everywhere.

 

If you've ever partied.  If you smoke.  If you drink at all.  If you've looked at porn.  If you've had an affair.  If you listen to popular music or--in some churches--even relish the beat of a drum (the devil's music!).  If you dance.  If you watch movies with cuss words.  If you don't tithe ten percent every single time.  If you don't go to Sunday school.  If you don't have your child sprinkled.  If you let your kids trick or treat on Halloween.  If you let your children believe in Santa Claus and the Easter bunny.  If you don't wear muumuus.  If you wear bikinis.  If you dye your hair and wear makeup. 

 

If you...breathe?

 

Because with every breath, we are incapable of being anything but sinners.

 

God's grace is so much more graceful than ours.

 

Christians make Christianity way more exhausting than it really is.  Consider all that God can forgive and cover over but we don't seem to want Him to. 

Why?

 

Why, when we've been given the gift of a lifetime--freedom from lifelong shame and pain, separation and unforgiveness--why are we selfish with that?  Shouldn't we be eager to shower others with it, too?

 

We stand at the door to the church blocking the ones who need him most--the ones who haven't met him yet--from getting in just as they are--like the nurses and doctors who wouldn't help the man having a heart attack.  We filter who can and can't be helped based on our idea of who deserves it.  Follow the rules first, then you can have the grace!

 

And in doing so, we put the cart before the horse.

 

We expect them to be clean before they've had a shower, to be learned before they've been taught, to be fed before they've gotten food.

To be healed before they've had the medicine. 

 

We expect them to look like Jesus and understand him before they've experienced him.

 

No!  Back away!  Put down your rules and conditions!

I long to woo them with my grace, he says.  Let them come as they are.  Bruised and battered.  Angry and cursing.  Desperate and grieving.  I can handle it all.  ALL.  From the minute to the major.  It is my business to forgive and yours to fall in line behind me.  The list of things that keep you all from me (including disobedience to parents! gossiping! greed!) was recorded in the Bible to show that no one is above needing me.  Not even you.  Not any of you.  It is not to be used as a tool to condemn and isolate.

 

And if they never see me, do not let the burden of that deeply painful thought fall upon your inability to put aside your pride.

 

Put away your swords, Peters of the faith.  This isn't a time to fight but a time to love, to woo, and to welcome the world to Jesus.

Grace. Grace for those who don't know Him yet. Grace for those who know Him and still get it wrong. Grace for those who can't see that they're wrong.

What would the world look like if we spent as much time telling people that Jesus loved them no matter what, instead of pinpointing the reasons they were doomed to be kept from him?

 

And if that seems impossible, once again I ask you:

 

Do you really believe we're saved by grace?

 

Because your ad says something else.