I find myself, life experience after life experience, learning the hard way, judging my successes and choices against the grain of my well established sisters, happily married friends, and degree-toting peers and comparison is stealing my joy. It is robbing me of my confidence and convincing me of my rebellion. If I cannot make the right choice, why not make all the wrong ones?
This is not a confession of a series of bad choices. In fact, by most people's standards I probably live a pretty good life. I'm a relatively straight-laced, mature, moral person living a pretty good life. While this is mostly true, I know of the warring inside. The constant battle to live by the expectations of my community and the demands of a Christian label. But that's just it. Christian is not my label. It is my identity. One that I was created for and one that I chose.
The last couple weeks we've had baptisms at church. I've sat and watched as people put their public stake in the ground, proclaiming Christ as their Savior. I clap and holler as they come up, out of that water with fresh hearts and a confidence that shines like Jesus' face. It got me thinking about decisions, words, and actions. My decisions. My words. My actions. Yes, I have an external expectation. A standard set by my upbringing, but more importantly it's an internal standard that longs to please God. To be near to Him by following His commandments and knowing His desires for my heart. Yes, I was raised in the church. For as long as I can remember, it was Awana on Wednesdays, church on Sunday, and youth group on Sunday nights, but somewhere along the way Jesus pricked me and out of that moment he breathed his very ruah, his holy breath, into my lungs and my life changed. I decided to look into his eyes and step out of my boat and, like Peter, walk toward him.
I was baptized, in middle school, in front of church just like these people last Sunday. But, here I am again publicly proclaiming myself as Christian. In a world where "Christian" is marked with a stigma of judgement, selfishness, and criticism, I am telling you that I am a Christian. Not because I am condemning a life you live, if differently, but because I want this world to know that despite the warring, every decision, every word, and every action is motivated by Jesus. To be like Jesus. To be kind and helpful. To be confident and genuine. To be caring and wise. To be just and generous and to leave every person with the knowledge and feeling that they are valued beyond measure and cared for beyond imagination; not because I have loved them but because Jesus gave me to them and somehow overflowed his irrevocable love into them.
I am Christian because I want to be and that is something I will not apologize for.
With all that said. I am not, despite my best efforts, perfect. I swear. I give-up, I am honest to a fault, I disrespect my parents, and often seek personal gain. I fail sometimes, most times because just like everyone else I'm a flawed human being. And just like every one else, I need saving. Redeeming, I need purifying. Pruning. Even still, there isn't a manual on how to become better. But, lately I've been so deeply convicted of my own neglect of the love letter left to us (it's the bible, folks). Sermon after sermon in the last months has reminded me that to be like Jesus I need to know him. To be better I need to seek him. And to give peace to this internal battle, I need to pray. It's time I open all I am to the possibility that God's promise is true and in reading, seeking, and praying He will reveal himself to me and bless me. Not because if we "do good" God will give us stuff, but because to know Him is to follow Him and to follow Him is to receive his blessing.
One of my favorite authors said,
"there is this lie floating around that says I am supposed to be able to do life alone, without any help, without stopping to worship something bigger than myself. But I actually believe that there is something bigger than me, and I need for there to be something bigger than me. I need someone to put awe inside me; I need to come second to someone who has everything figured out" (Blue Like Jazz, by Don Miller)
It's an encouragement to me because, despite my best efforts, I am not perfect. It's an encouragement because we are frail, broken, flawed people and Jesus is the most perfect peace about that. He says all that is okay because I love you still. I love you yet. I love you regardless. I love you forever. So, maybe, on this Tuesday open up your eyes and your hands and your hearts and seek Him. Ask Him. Find Him and be restored. Like I am being restored right now in my empty classroom.
