Don't Know Much About (Erasing) History

I completely understand when people choose to be apolitical on social media.  I'm right there with you--I try my best to avoid it, too.  Everyone has an opinion, and it's often an opinion deeply rooted and unwilling to be removed.

 

Not every opinion should be removed.

 

But there's a heaviness in the air this week.  We feel it in our own home, hundreds of miles away from Charlottesville.  Our family is extremely burdened by the news of what happened over the weekend.  Our hearts break for Heather Heyer's family, for the others who were wounded, and for the implications this has for the hatred that has thrived in our country.

 

When the darkness moves in is when the Church should rise and shine.  But I have been deeply disturbed and disappointed by some of the responses to Charlottesville in my newsfeed.  The most common "Christian" posts in reference to it simply argue, "Well, we shouldn't be trying to erase history."

 

That's it?  That's all you have to say?  We shouldn't be erasing history?

 

If you're going to respond, where is the response about love?  The response against hatred?

 

Really?  The only place you're going to go is the "erasing history" route?

 

Okay, okay, I'm not following the importance of your stance, so let's find some common ground here.

 

I saw one person posting about not erasing history because, she admonished, it will cause us to forget who we are and where we've come from.

 

I agree.  That's absolutely right.  But our points of view differ when it comes to which history we're talking about because I'm not talking about some statue.

 

First, let's back up.

 

I come from an area of the US where one of the most telling signs of your faith is whether or not you vote Republican and where you stand on abortion.  It's in whether or not you opposed the March for Women and on what color lives you think matter.  It's in whether you eat Chick-fil-a when it makes a statement against gay marriage or whether you insist on Merry Christmas over Happy Holidays. 

 

Things that make us feel like we're living out the Gospel (let's see...what does that say again?), but are really only parking spaces for our political stances.

 

And when something like Charlottesville happens--something where we can respond by living out the Gospel--I get so frustrated with the members of the Church who choose to respond only how it benefits them politically--no matter what side of the aisle they may be on.

 

It's disheartening to see Christians finding their political voice to be full of courage and their spiritual voice to be full of cowardice (or masquerading one as the other).

 

Why aren't we seizing this perfect opportunity to show the world what Jesus is like?

 

The Jesus we sing to on Sunday morning. The Jesus we fight so hard to keep in schools.  The Jesus we hope returns quickly.  The Jesus we say everyone needs--where is he in this sudden fight against erasing history?

 

I'll tell you one thing I've observed:

 

The only history being erased is the history of who Jesus was and what he stood for.

 

Jesus didn't fight for statues (he wasn't much into graven images anyway)--he fought for the downtrodden and the wounded.  He didn't condemn the brokenhearted for feeling hurt or offended--he came to bind them up.  He didn't overlook the sick or the weary--he comforted them and healed them.

 

He loved.

 

Love was his mission, and love was his greatest commandment--love God.  Love others.

 

And have we forgotten?  Have we taken an eraser to the fact that it wasn't the homosexual or the adulteress or the abortionist or the tax collector who sought to bring Jesus to his demise?

 

It was the Church.

 

People like us, who don't miss a Sunday (or the Sabbath), who didn't like that Jesus didn't want to play by their rules.  People who didn't like grace or the fact that he loved everyone.

 

Ironically, it wasn't the "sinners" who appeared to be threatened by Jesus but the "saints."

 

Do we forget that?

 

Are we the ones erasing history?  The most important piece of history to ever exist?

 

In refusing to put aside our political and legalistic agendas, we're putting him to death a second time.  We're putting his legacy to death.

 

When the Women's March happened several months ago, there was a lady in my state who ran a yarn store who refused to sell pink yarn to anyone wanting to make a hat for the march.  It violated her beliefs, she said, to sell to people who didn't agree with her.  She was offended that anyone would use her material for something that didn't line up with her religion.

 

And yet, I've seen Christians roll their eyes and yell, "Stop playing the victim card!" when the black, Muslim, and Jewish communities voice being offended by racist acts.

 

I've seen the Christian community destroy Bill Clinton for his affair and excuse Donald Trump's.  Trump is a Christian, they say [FYI, the Clintons say they are, too].  He's forgiven.  The Bible is all about forgiveness.  [I guess forgiveness only applies when it's your candidate.]

 

Consider if there was a statue of someone who was a pioneer for LGBT rights.  Would Christians be quick to preserve that history?  Or would Christians petition for its removal because, well, "JESUS. GOD.  HOMOSEXUALITY BAD, BAD, BAD."

 

These days, Christians don't allow themselves to be wrong.  Period.  There's a painful lack of humility (and I'll include myself in that). And right now I see a group of Christians digging in their heels to support a chaotic and hateful president because they would never want to admit they were wrong.  So they have made up reasons that his behavior is okay in the name of humanness and mercy and whatnot, but hear this...

 

If everyone else doesn't get to use the humanness excuse when they mess up, you don't get to either.  Being a Christian does not give you the right to distort and rationalize poor choices or disgraceful stances.  We're either all flawed and need to be better about owning our mistakes, or nobody should have to be accountable.  You can't have it both ways.

 

I don't care what political implications are involved in denouncing what happened in Charlottesville.  What I care about and hope other believers care about are the implications for our reputations as Christians if we choose to sit passively by.  And that doesn't necessarily mean making a Facebook post about it.  I couldn't care less if you do that.  But understand that our nation is hurting and broken and full of hatred and hopelessness.  We don't need another political stance or another defense for things that don't really matter.

 

I'm sick of seeing someone's political party [and that goes for any side] being more important than their chance to witness.

 

I have had a lot of fear about posting anything like this because I know that, while my blog doesn't have a massive following, it's decent, and its audience is primarily made up of people who will likely disagree with me.  I hope I won't lose readership because of this, but I really might.  And that's just something I'm going to have to be okay with because I feel very passionately that we are quickly becoming a disgrace to the name of Christ.

 

If you take away nothing else, hear this:

 

If you're of the mindset I'm speaking against, I don't think you're a bad person.  Hear that? I don't think you're a bad person.  I don't believe in bad people, I believe in bad choices and misguided beliefs. I love you. God loves you.  God loves the ones who feel slighted by your indifference.  And my greatest desire is that everyone gets to know that awesome love He has for each of us.  It's changed my life, and I long for it to change everyone else's.  I long for the world to know that God chose us when we weren't good enough by any standard, and I want Christians to stop acting like God used a more lenient blueprint when He died for us than He did for everyone else. 

 

We need Jesus to show up in you.  In me.  We need hands and feet that will love and serve one another, regardless of our backgrounds or race or whatever else.

 

Because our history is this and this alone:

 

While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.

 

He already paid the price.  May we not quiet the power of his legacy of loving the world, even when it wasn't ready to love him back.  May we not put him to death once again because his message isn't convenient or doesn't line up with a specific political party or agenda.

 

Let's save the American history for our classrooms and save the spiritual history for how we treat others.  Show others that love conquered all on a cross.

 

Because if there's a history worth fighting for, it's that one.

 

Class dismissed.

Fatty Unforgiveness

I think I've stopped and restarted this post a hundred times.  Not this exact post, but a form of it.  I've wanted for years to do a blog about forgiveness and how to best go about it, but I never can quite get the engine going after a few paragraphs.

 

I think it's because even after all these years as a Christian, I haven't had the faintest clue about the keys to successful forgiveness.

 

It's a hard concept.

 

My weaknesses surely outnumber my strengths when it comes to my spiritual profile, but I always felt like God bestowed a fiftieth of what He should have when it came to my forgiveness abilities.  I'm not good at it, and I never have been.  Even when forgiving the small offenses, I'm operating more on the level of a kindergartner than a college student.  For most of my life, the rule has been that if you do something to me or someone I love, you're out.  I don't enjoy feeling hurt, so I'd rather have a small group of trusted people in my life than a large group of iffy peers.  It's the simplest way.

 

But it isn't the godly way.

 

So all right, God, I've said.  If you want me to forgive, then it comes with conditions.  I want apologies--good ones.  I want 180-degree changes.  I want sucking up, or else no deal!  It's the smartest way.

 

But again, that isn't really what we're called to do either.

 

You can cite Scripture all day long to support a theory that forgiveness depends on repentance and apologies and a softened heart, and I'm here to tell you, I don't buy it.  As much as I enjoy withholding grace and forgiveness for my own sick satisfactions, I don't believe God ever intended us to have such strict requirements for living free and unburdened by what others have done to us.

 

But how do I say that and explain that when the circumstances really suck?  Sure, I've dealt with some unfortunate things in my life where I'm [still] navigating the world of forgiveness,  but it's nothing compared to what some people have been through.

 

And every time I've tried to write this post, that's one thing that stops me.  I'll think, I've sort of got this figured out.  But what if someone were to come to me and say, "I've had someone molest me.  I've been raped.  Someone murdered my child.  Someone really hurt me, and it messed me up.  It messed my family up."  Does what I've crafted in a lesson about forgiveness make sense for these people?  And the answer is that I fear that I would be laughed in the face for my all-too-overly-simplified version of one of God's greatest charges.  If it can't be helpful all the way around--from the smallest insult to the most evil ruination--I have backed away and deleted what I had.

 

But the question never stops gnawing away at me--how do we learn to forgive and move forward when someone hurts us--apologetically or unapologetically?

 

I want it to be a clear answer.  Something magical--something that provides overnight success.  I think of my favorite character in the Bible, Joseph, and how he managed to have such grace and forgiveness for his brothers, who treated him so terribly. 

 

Genuine forgiveness.  It is possible.  

 

There's got to be a secret--and yet, nothing is really outlined in the Bible about how he came to that place.  It reads: his brothers want him dead and he ends up in prison blah blah blah Potipher's wife blah blah blah second in command in Egypt and poof! He cries tears of joy when he is reunited with these would-be murderers, bestows grace upon them, and all is well.

 

What happened in the in-between?

 

Did an angel dip him in a pool of holiness?  Did he develop amnesia?  Did he have a lobotomy?  Did the Men in Black erase his memory with that little stick thing?

 

And then an answer came quietly to me a week or so ago.

 

There is no easy answer, no magic step.

 

The best way I know to describe it involves what you might consider an eye-rolling analogy to weight loss.

 

But hear me out...

Many of us are on a constant quest to lose weight and improve our health.  For some, that's five pounds of bloat that revisit us from time to time (and definitely during the holidays), and for some, that's hundreds of pounds accumulated from a lifetime of poor choices or a bad hand of genetics.

 

And we all want a quick fix, right?  To snap our fingers and be improved.  To be the best versions of ourselves.

 

But the truth is, those "overnight diets" are often only compatible with minor weight loss needs--water weight, usually.  Think of the water weight loss crowd as those who have minor forgiveness needs--only a little work for a short time nips the problem in the bud, and while it may return periodically, it's always easy to remove.  That's because the weight isn't serious; it's temporary.  It isn't harmful to our health, and we can very simply pretend once it's off that it never even happened.

 

And then there are those of us (raising my hand here!) who become loaded down with fatty, fatty unforgiveness.  The kind that may have been originally not our fault but that we have exacerbated and worsened by our unwillingness to do anything about it.  When it becomes evident that the work is going to be really hard and overwhelming, it becomes convenient to ignore the problem and reach for what tastes good--those words of negativity about the wrongdoer that are so juicy and flavorful.  Words we crave because they bring a temporary euphoria, only to leave us feeling worse off once it passes.  We may refuse to do any sort of movement or exercising of what might be some inner hidden strength because it's easy to sit around and hope something changes.  And as it piles up, it becomes a problem for how well our hearts can function.  We become ineffective, unhealthy, unrecognizable, and it might even do us in.

 

In the not so distant past, I've experienced some serious unforgiveness obesity that, for a time, I ignored and became complacent with.  I could blame it on my circumstances and anything else I wanted, but the reason it was sticking was entirely my choice.  And now I have set out on a mission to shed what I've allowed to clog up my heart, and I'd love to share what's helped me along.

 

First, I've had to stop reaching for the things that naturally taste good to me.  If criticisms are the cheeseburgers, then compliments (or even in some cases silence!) are the fruits and vegetables.

Only one category originally felt delicious, but I have been making a concentrated effort to pick the healthier option.  Not everyone will be able to reach for the compliment (let's call this the *gag* kale, shall we?), and for good reason!  But aiming for whatever the more positive option may be has started to change my taste buds.  The veggies are no longer so terrible because I've acquired a taste for them.  Indulging in the other still happens because, of course it happens.  I'm human.  But the hard work is starting make a change, and it has started making those choices simpler.

 

Second, I've had to do some moving.  Not anything crazy or marathon-ish.  But I've had to make myself get out of my comfort zone.  If being a couch potato is expecting the person who wronged you to come around and do something nice for you, then lifting weights is doing something nice for them (or again, just refraining from doing something mean--baby steps here, people!).  Once you find the strength to do the smallest of movements, it may become easier to do something bigger, especially if you choose to make it more of a habit.

 

Third, at one point, I did have to see a specialist.  When I first started going through my separation and divorce, I needed lots of help navigating my feelings, and I feel no shame in saying that I went to counseling.  It took sifting through a few personalities to find the one that was right for me, but once I found him, he helped me toward a much more promising path of progress.  And while I haven't had to see him in years, I still have some of his wisdom tucked away for when a rough patch pops up.  If your situation is really difficult and the weight isn't budging, it can be helpful to have someone who knows what they're doing guide you along.

 

And lastly, I've had to give myself lots of time and patience.  It may never be perfect...because goodness knows that I never will be.  I think in many ways, God intended forgiveness to be hard because it proves how awe-inspiring His forgiveness for us is.  To consider the pain that we cause Him and the ease with which He continues to love us will forever be a mystery to me.  And it serves as a reminder of how imperfect I am, for as much as I have wanted those who have hurt me to be thought of for their imperfections, I see my own failures when I fight to move forward.  It has been a humbling few years to see how God levels the playing field with our shortcomings, and He is good to remind me that I'm no better or worse than those who struggle alongside me in this world.

 

As a final thought, I wish to recall a blog post I read several years ago about a woman struggling to forgive her husband for having an affair.  If only I could remember the site to give credit where it's due (and so you could read it for yourself--it was beautifully done), but I'm afraid it's slipped away from my memory.  She wrote of her reluctance to let her anger toward him go but how God molded her heart with a simple everyday chore: making the bed.  As she made her bed every morning, she intentionally prayed for the ability to forgive him.  As the bed would be messy every morning and in need of a cleanup, so would her heart and attitude need the daily tidying.  Forgiving him had to become a habit and a frequent choice. 

 

And I think that is the biggest takeaway here for me.  As much as I'd like it to be as easy as saying that I forgive someone and the slate is wiped clean, it will take lots of actions for me to make that forgiveness a reality and keep it a reality.

 

God has dealt kindly with me as I've muddied along.  For a time, I was angry, and He allowed me to be because it was what I needed.  May we never forget that the God who desires holiness from us also created the nooks and crannies of our humanness and allows us grace to process things that are complicated.  Expecting too much of ourselves too soon can lead to resentment and setbacks, so I take great comfort in reminding myself that God is patient with me, and I should be patient with me, too.  But now, the time for anger has expired.  And while I have had to learn many lessons in the last few years (and feel like I should be due a break!), I can feel Him nudge my heart and say, "Let's go a little further."  We've learned algebra, and now it's time for calculus; the challenges never stop.

 

And so, from one recovering overfat-with-unforgiveness Christian to another, I hope that you realize that it doesn't have to be this way.  You don't have to be this way.  Don't let the power of what someone else did poison the core of who you are.  There is a you beneath the weight that deserves to feel lighter.  A you that deserves to feel free.  A heart that deserves to function the way it should.  Your ability to have peace should stop depending on the downfall of someone else, and I hope that you take very seriously what could happen to who you are if that becomes your soul's greatest longing. 

 

You can be way better than that.

 

So put down the cheeseburger--I know it tastes fulfilling, but trust me, it isn't.  And choose to reach for some veggies.  Choose to reach for something healthier.  Choose to make the bed. 

 

Choose to forgive.