To those who are over Jesus and done with Church

  I get it. Throughout college and in my time the past few months, I have sat across the table from numerous people and listened as words tumbled out of their mouths in sometimes defeated and other times emphatic order that they have no need for Jesus. So this post is written from my heart to the person who has grown up in church and is over it and the student who is sick of people muttering “bless her heart” under their breath when they see you with a Jack Daniel and clothes that cling to your skin.

 Not too long ago, I remember a raw conversation I had with a close friend about life. We met to catch up after being apart for a while but I will never forget that day. She looked me straight in the eyes as I asked how life had been and her unwavering response was "I just do not know if I can buy it anymore. I just don't think I need Jesus".  

  I admit the former version of myself would have been terrified of those words. In fact, I would have wanted to run from the table as fast as I could leaving only the tip on the table and a meek "Ill pray for you" in my wake. There was no space for questioning God in my theology and my view of life was centered around doing good "churchy" things. Attend church events-good. Dress modestly-good. Pray every day and have a "quiet time"-good. Date a Christian guy-good. Don't drink or party-good. Go to church camp-good. There was no place for doubting God and not needing Jesus in my list. Although these things helped me live a decent life, it wasn't until I realized years later that I was not really living a Godly life. I did all the right things, I even "served God" and learned about Him, but I did not actually get to know Him fully. To be honest- it's simply because I never asked. I saw my relationship with God as this distant obligatory relationship in which I read His word or lived because I was told to. One day I failed -because inevitably we all do- and I had to make this choice. I believe we all have this choice to make at some point in our lives. A pivotal moment in which we finally get to decide how to live our lives and what we will believe in. This moment occurs at different points, many experience it in college when they are away from family, friends, and their community and experience freedom to explore and they run in it. Some come across this moment in adulthood after a tragic experience and yet others find it even as students in high school desiring independence and wanting to find their place in this world. 

  My moment came my freshman year of college when I decided to read the Bible from beginning to end. I am not an ambitious let's tackle this thing in a year type of person but I definitely did not realize the questioning I would have for the next three years as I went through this book. Each night, it was just me and God and a daunting amount of words. I wish I could say it was my favorite part of my day- but I would be lying. As I read through there were times when I grew angry with the picture I saw of God.  Often it just did not settle well and it would take days for me to want to pick it up and keep trekking. I began to question things I had been taught my entire life, whether God truly was just and loving, and I started doubting whether I could believe this. It was in this season of immense wrestling that I realized there were things in the Bible that could not be explained, stories difficult to digest, and pictures of God my humanness just wanted to flee from. I took a class months later called Biblical Perspectives. It was the first time someone had ever asked me whether I believed it all and I felt I could say I'm not sure. The beauty of that room where students gathered once a week was that we were taught. Not just watered down stories of the bible and a quick three point application for our lives but the professor went through it all. He taught us the history of the Bible, the historical view of Jesus, he highlighted areas in the bible that seemed to contradict and he had a way of seeking out the grey areas- he didn't run from them like I had been taught my whole life. He was the first person I met that did not seem afraid of them. He did not feel it was his job to make us believe the Bible more than it was to teach it nor did he feel it was his responsibility to uphold Jesus or else He would come crashing down.  He had this quiet, steady faith that even if someone doubted, Jesus would still be who He was and the world would not crumble. 

    As I slowly read through the Old Testament I realized it was filled with men and women just like myself. I found comfort in Psalms as I read the heart's cry of David. He was raw, he was brutally honest, he questioned, he cried out, and through it all, he sought after the very heart of God. The Prophet Jeremiah questions God about the prosperity of the wicked when he was knee deep in his ministry while people were plotting to kill him. The opening sentence of Habakkuk is How long O Lord must I call for help but you do not listen or cry out to you, 'Violence' but you do not save? What a bold way to approach the Lord and when I first read it I was shocked. These passages when against everything I was taught. Trusting in God means not questioning his sovereignty and plans but here were men who questioned the heart of God and you know what happened? The Lord did not cease to be God because He was questioned, He did not kill them because they asked. No, he answered them. In different ways and perhaps not in the exact questions they asked but He responds. He does not remain silent forever. Even in the New Testament when the disciples often failed to see who Jesus truly was. He did not cast them away when they asked questions but instead he taught them. 

  As I poured over the Bible and wrestled daily, something changed in my heart. My quiet time often was not so quiet. It was filled with tears, angry questions, and confusion but it was real. My prayers were not simply lists of thanking God and asking for help but I was crying out from the depths of my soul. My soul ached wanting to be shown something. Anything. For the first time in my life, I wanted to know who God was. If He was real, if I could trust Him, If I could really give it all up for Him. Instead of memorizing scripture for the sake of it, I was pouring over these ancient words searching for evidence of the heart of God. It was in this storm that I found Jesus. I learned what it meant for God to be sovereign and I finally saw what He was asking of me. It wasn't for me to go to every event at church, to pray three times a day or have a daily quiet time. His main concern wasn't that I didn't sit a a bar with friends on the weekend or wear a bikini at the beach. He wanted my heart. He wanted me to surrender it all. Truly, he wanted me to know Him. I cannot deny that parts of the Bible were difficult to digest, especially when he allowed people to die or seemed harsh in the Old Testament. At first, I thought perhaps this God was not someone I really wanted to serve. I would read about his covenants, how he promised to deliver His people from bondage, how he would heal, and how he was faithful yet see people suffering, entire people groups killed and my mind could not reconcile the two. I asked the Lord to show me His character, his heart, and for me to have eyes to see apart from my own tainted human eyes and friends, He did. He did not have to and he simply  could have said 'because I said so'. Instead, I kept coming across the words  I am. At first, I was angry that those were the only words. three letters. Hardly even a sentence, yet for some reason thats what He gave me. All I could think of each day was You are what... Who are you? Each days I asked those same questions and I searching for something, anything that would tell me what that even meant. Slowly, I began to see God as hope for a nation who lived in bondage. I saw him as deliverer as he promised a new land, and faithful despite all that happened, he held onto his beautiful promise of a remnant. He never forgot his people, often disciplines them but never abandoned them completely. I finally understood grace, why Christ came, and why I needed Jesus. Jesus was no longer an evil man who judged me and wished ill will, or even a weak man who had to beg for an audience or pleaded for people to believe Him. I saw him as a King, a mighty warrior who came into this fallen world because He believed I was worth it, you were worth it. 

  So as I found myself face to face with my dear friend, I looked into her eyes and recognized the same aching in her soul. I read behind her words to the root question that surely this was not it. Instead of shying away like I would have before, I saw hope in her wavering "belief". In fact, I admired her candidness. As she talked about her anger towards Christians judging, hearing the same watered down messages at school and church, and no evidence of true change from the world, I realized that perhaps she wasn't over Jesus, but the idea we have made of him. Her heart was not fully committed to abandoning the gospel but it was this American Dream Religion she was desperately fleeing from. "You probably think I'm crazy" she said as she rattled off in exasperated tones. I assured her that was far from the truth. In fact, I was relieved and almost joyful that this girl who I loved was not willing to settle for this idea of God, for her heart knew there was something deeper there and she unknowingly was setting out to seek after it. 

   Just as the Lord answered me in those dark nights of the soul where I thought perhaps it was all for naught, I knew he would reveal himself to her. She was not able to settle with this Jesus that we have made to compete with the world. We have events, big productions, and try to make him relevant and cool to compete with things in life but the truth is that isn't how He came the first time and she knew she would not find him there again. Instead, he came quietly into the world, in the most simplistic of ways. He never demanded attention or begged for followers. He certainly never asked to be invited into people's hearts. He came with the gospel for the poor preaching freedom for the captives, restoring sight of the blind, and setting the oppressed free. He asked people to follow Him, to recognize He was the Savior, and to be Lord of their lives. He did not ask for us to just wear a tshirt with his name on it, go to a building on Sundays all dressed up, offer a small prayer for our food at a meal, or even tweet our favorite verses or all the ways we are serving him . He asked us to abandon everything for the sake of following Him. 

   I knew as my dear friend began to search, she could never fully want Jesus until she knew what his death had to do with her. She could not follow Christ until she realized she had to die to everything else. She could not get the importance until she saw that she played a part in his death and that his victory is what gives her life. She would not know that she even wanted God until she asked and searched. In the same way, I have compete faith that the Lord can open hearts, He will answer, and He will not cease to be God simply because someone asks. 

New name, new adventures, and lots of laughter

   

 Six months ago, I had no idea what adventures would await as I walked down the aisle lined with wooden pews and smiling faces of family and friends basically like family.  I remember Anna’s beautiful voice and as I held my dad’s arm, I heard him whisper it’s almost time, but remember you’re always by princess. As we took the first steps I looked around the barn and saw the faces of people I loved more than life smiling back. I saw the windows, draping fabric, twinkling lights, and jars of baby’s-breath decorated with such love and care. I saw all the women who were sisters to me standing in varying shades of cream and brown. I saw my sweet mama in her blue lace dress next to all of my family. I saw my new family, the people who were graciously welcoming me into their lives and sharing their namesake. Then, I saw my best friend, standing at the end of the aisle in his new grey suit. I knew, the moment I saw him that today would be the start of an adventure. Travis spoke the sweetest words on marriage and pronounced us husband and wife and from that moment on, we have not looked back. 

 
 

A New Year

            Today marks the day of a new year; a new number to add to history books.  This morning as dawn broke through allowing the first new rays of sun to illuminate the earth for this year, people were able to catch a breath. There’s something about a new year that brings about a new spirit in people.  It allows younger kids to stay up way beyond their bedtime to watch the magic of a silver ball descend upon a city as the sky is filled with confetti.  Teenagers sneak away from crowds to steal a kiss from their first crush and misty-eyed parents and grandparents are flooded with memories of past years and hopeful expectations for the new year.  There is something mystical about this particular midnight that can make an optimist of the most devout cynic.  As the clock hands tick steadily to twelve, it seems that perhaps, just perhaps change can occur, things will get better, and a fresh start is at the next stop of the grandfather clock’s second hand.  As the chimes announce the coming of midnight, the unknown of the days that lie ahead allow us to feel hopeful-to anticipate.  It is in that holy moment that fearfully unknowing and innocently dreaming mixes in our souls and for once it seams perhaps oil and water can be blended. 

            Perhaps it doesn’t even matter what losses, heartaches, or tragedies have occurred the past year.  As new dawn breaks across the sky, couple kiss, family and friends toast to the possibilities that lie ahead and for a moment, the world seems eager to move forward as hopes are placed in the fact that this new dawn could change everything.  Often new years day is filled with lists of resolutions to be made or dreams being cast ahead, but today I had the privilege of embracing this New Year by remembering the past and celebrating.  I was invited to fellowship and listen as family reminisced and I was reminded of a quote by William Wordsworth that says “let us learn from the past to profit by the present, and from the present, to live better in the future”.  As I faded quietly into the background, I tried to absorb every story and memory like raindrops caught in a jar in the middle of a drought.

            The stone house was filled with the aroma of good southern cooking as family members of many generations milled about. I watched as my new grandparents prepared food and allowed their home to be a place where everyone could unite and share.  There is something so very special about breaking bread with people. As everyone ate and shared food, I listened as stories were told of past gatherings, mischievous adventures, and heroic and brave acts of men who served our country.  There is something humbling about holding the black and white photograph with faded edges of a strong young man in his army uniform serving in the Korean War.  As I glanced up, I recognized the familiar features on my new grandfather who was unassumingly fixing food for today’s feast and quietly smiling with a thermos of coffee in his hand taking in the scene before him.

           Looking around the room I saw sons and family members who had so much respect for this man and his wife, Gigi, who loves and gives so freely to others with such sincerity and thoughtfulness.  I saw families blending together and love- so much love for each other. The kind that despite it all, you’ll be there for someone.  The kind that so many long for.  As I took all of this in, I was filled with hope as I heard about others lives and dreamt of what could one day be said about my own.  I cannot wait to see what adventures this new dawn holds and I pray to remember Mrs. Patty Anne’s wise words “through it all trust in the Lord; keep leaning on Him”.  I am excited to se what He has written, to meet the people he has in store, and to grow deeper with him as we continue this new dawn together.

I’m sorry she says. Im sorry,- I really am those were the words that continued in streams out of her mouth like a broken record between silent sobs and deep breaths. I continued to watch as tears rolled down her cheeks leaving a glistening trail before they were swiped away by a tissue. As I stared down at her half-eaten tray of eggs and glanced at the hospital bracelet that adorned her arm, all I could do was allow my tears to flow freely with hers.

Cancer. That was the word. It was a powerful one that was wrecking her world. It left her weak, hurting, and partially blind.  Yet in that room, I felt this almost blind woman saw more than most of us.  I realized I had nothing to offer this woman.  I could not cure her nor did I have words that would be of true value.  Instead, all I could offer her was my presence and a safe space to cry.  As I held her hand between tears, I felt the Lord telling me to let her cry. Often we don’t know what to do with tears. Generally we turn to humor, a story, or diversion to make them stop, but in that sterile room, I knew she needed it. Her soul needed it. So I told her the very words Jesus spoke to my heart at my weakest moment. Don’t apologize for those tears. Tears are good for your soul. Those tears aren’t going to scare me away, and you know what, they won’t scare God away either. He’s big enough for them.  Her eyes met mine and I saw those tears that were once despised now flow freely turning into healing rain.  Ive tried to be strong, so strong. Ive fought, but im weary now.  These vulnerable words tumbled out in broken streams and I saw how courageous, brave, and strong this woman before me was.

I realized something in that moment of admittance, I never once saw weakness. Instead, I saw a place for the Lord.  I saw a woman with a battle much too large to fight on her own but faith in a God who could handle it.  She never once blamed Him or questioned it although she had every right to. And in that confession of weariness, I felt space was made in that room for God. There was a holy meeting in that room.  One much grander and beautiful than any I’ve ever witnessed.  There were no pews, big screens, flashing lights, or eloquent sermons delivered.  Instead, there was a woman who humbled herself before the Lord and brought her tears as an offering before the Lord.  Her confession became her song, and as He filled the room, healing was brought to her soul.

As I left the room that day, I realized that holy meeting wasn’t just for her. God used that room and that beautiful woman to show me that I can let go.  I do not have to have all of the answers or do everything on my own.  Until now, Ive felt that if I trusted God, I had to be strong.  If I grew weary or discouraged, it would just show people that I didn’t really trust God could do it. The truth is that it is when I am weak the Lord is strong.  I’ve heard that phrase for as long as I can remember and I’ve written on many bathroom mirrors and post-its. Yet after I left that room, I saw it in a different way.  I realized that sometimes my own failure is ok.  If I cannot do it, people wont judge my lack of faith or relationship with God. Instead, they will see that I am human and in need of a savior as much as the next person.  I do not have to have it all together.  Some days, I can cry and feel the full weight of my human limitedness and use those tears as an offering to God. If anything good comes from my life, it is not because I am a good student and work hard, or because I try to be nice to people, or even because I deserve it.  It is only because the Lord moved in my life.  I cannot stop thinking about that woman and praising God for her.  She felt the Lord in such a beautiful, intimate way that has rocked me to my core.  She allowed him into that space with all of her brokenness, pain, heaviness, and worries on the table.  It all laid out before her right next to the half-eaten eggs and stale biscuits and instead of cowering shamefully behind it, she opened her heart that day and let him take everything on that table.  She gave it to him freely and trusted Him with it.  She didn’t ask him for a bargain or for an answer.  She just praised Him and let me hold her hand while we worshipped Him in that place.

Living in Surrender

I think I’ve spend much time trying to live a good Christian life.  You know, the kind where you sign up for 3 Bible Studies, wear those great Christian logo T-shirts, instagram pics of the morning's psalm, tweet the latest jesus calling, and drink coffee like its water.  For the majority of the past 20 years Ive spent on this earth, I learned the motions and cool songs for VBS, I donned my "I'm a princess and Daughter of a Great King" T-shirt, I advocated "Modest is Hottest" and I remained single because I was dating Jesus. These things alone are not bad but this year I realized that this is not exactly what I am called to. These are not the foundation and essence of my walk with the Lord. I think I always knew some aspect of this was skewed.  As a child, my mom forced me to put on the little red vest and attend Awanas at a church wherever we lived. I remember failing at every game during rec because some part of me has never been coordinated enough to play kickball.  At every "sword drill" I was one of the last to find the book called out- I mean what kids knows where Haggai is anyway? Week after week I would try to recite the memory verse but I somehow always messed up a word or line and never could make it past the first few pages. I would walk dejectedly out of the room with my crown which contained only one jewel I got for completing the introduction book while I stood next to my friends who had enough bling to blind someone.  I swear one girl had to buy another vest to hold all of her crowns. After a year, I begged my mom to stop making me go. There were tears, pleading, and eventually after many weeks, she packed my red vest away in a box on the closet shelf and I was free. 

Please hear my heart when I say that Awanas really was not awful and it is a great tool for teaching kids about the Bible. It wasn't the program itself but my heart and attitude in doing it.  There are many times I wish I had continued but I have realized something.  I have spent the last 5 years living my life as if I was still in Awanas instead of surrendering my life to a King.  I will not get jewels in my crown in heaven based on how many verses I memorized or how many friends I brought to church. My membership in the body of Christ is not based upon my abilities, my knowledge, or my actions to abstain from "worldly" things. Jesus certainly is not my homeboy and I was never "dating" him.  He's much grander and Holier than that.  He doesn't just want my participation in church events or my pledge to listen to only Christian music- He demands my absolute allegiance to his sovereignty.  I do not have to pretend my life is perfect or that I am without sin. His love is not depended upon me simply living a "good Christian" life. 

 No matter how much effort I put into it, I will always fall short of good because there are days when sin is rampant and I am inherently not good. So although this sounds great in theory, in reality it only leaves a wake of hypocrisy, masking, and guilt. Instead, I think I just want to live a life. One that some Gracious God called me to before my first heart beat. I’m listening to this song and the line says “tomorrow’s freedom is today’s surrender”. I think that’s the way I want to live. In surrender. Because in surrender, you recognize the sin that keeps you from joy, and you look it in the face, and hand it over to an outstretched hand of a Lord. And sometimes when its hard to tare your gaze from that sin that won’t let you go, you avert your eyes and in perfect divine timing, your eyes land on those outstretched hands. And you notice there are scars. Scars made to die for that sin. Scars made to die for you. I think as long as we try to pretend to live a good Christian life, we miss this act of surrender because we convince ourselves we have nothing to give up.  But if that were the case, then those scars are for naught. 

Because Sometimes God Says No

“The man who had been demon possessed begged to go with him. Jesus did not let him but said “Go home to your family and tell them how much the Lord has done for you and how He has had mercy on you.”

            I have read this story many times but this time I saw it with fresh eyes. Chapter 5 of Mark gives the account of a Demon possessed man who is healed by Jesus.  This story shows the authority of Christ over all as even the demons recognized him as the Son of the Most High.  At this point in his life, only the spirits had truly recognized him as the great Messiah King. He heals the demon-possessed man and it is a beautiful picture of Christ freeing us from our sin.  However the story does not stop there.  In verses 18 and 19 the man begs to travel with Jesus but notice Jesus response.

He said no.

I think we portray God sometimes as a Yes man.  If it seems right and good we assume his answer will be yes because after all He wants us to be happy right? I like to hold to this view of my Lord because it sits better with me.  This healed man simply wanted to continue with Christ.  He had gone through so much and his plea seemed honorable. Surely Jesus would grant him that wish.  I’m sure the man could even envision following Jesus and telling others his story of freedom along the way, yet this is not what happens in the story. Instead, Jesus told him to stay. This can seem harsh but when we look at Mark in its entirety, we see that Jesus knew what this man would face when he would return to his family.  Jesus’ own family (Mark 3:20) thought he was crazy.  He knew and understood staying would be difficult.  He even returned to his own town in Mark 6 and endured the challenges, but the demon-possessed man staying was part of his plan to reach the people in the region of Gerasene.  Even though the man did not want to go back, he was to tell his own family of God’s mercy in his life. In my own life, this is a fear I have.  That I will want to go somewhere and do something and the Lord has other plans.

Because sometimes God says no.

Like he said no to David when he asked to build his temple. Like he said no to this possessed man who wanted to go and follow Jesus. But sometimes following Jesus means staying.

It man mean going back and facing the haunted land and part you want so badly to escape.  Sometimes deliverance comes in the form of remaining.  In the case of this man in Mark, it was a spiritual deliverance- not a physical relocation.  Jesus knew the difficulty he would have in looking his family in the face and seeing his former life in their eyes.  But this time, his return would be different.  He had been healed. Freed from bondage.  He had received unmerited mercy. And He had a story.

The man obediently went and proclaimed his mercy story to his family in Decapolis… and in the wake of his redemption song was a people group who were left in amazement.