Playing the Part (part 1)
I know what you're thinking. What am I doing up at this insane hour trying to write a semi-coherent blog entry when I should be catching up on much-needed sleep for my 10:00 Vic-Lit class tomorrow?
Oh, you weren't thinking that? Sorry. So much for my powers of perception. But I digress. I had quite a grand time this evening. And I feel the need to share about it. So consider this your obligatory ramble alert.
I went out to downtown Greenville with Anna Kate to see a concert at the Bi-Lo Center. The whole thing was a birthday present from her. Why was this particular concert so special? Well, for one, any concert with her at my side automatically qualifies as 'special.' But the other reason was that it featured Casting Crowns, one of my all-time favorite Christian groups. Nicole Nordemann, Josh Bates, and speaker Tony Nolan were also scheduled.
Another reason this night was so special was that it precluded by a few hours our six-month-anniversary. We're not married, folks. I have a lot of growth and maturing to do before I can even start thinking about the M-word. But we've been dating for six months now. And they have been six of the best months of this angst-ridden boy's life. We've already shared so many good times, made each other laugh a lot (probably more than we should've), gone through sadness and loss together, and we love the Lord with all our hearts. Anna Kate is a blessing I can never deserve. But God in His infinite mercy brought her into my life. Another big reason to praise Him, Amen.
Getting back to tonight ... So we met up in the municipal parking lot, a surprisingly vacant section that's a short walk from the Bi-Lo Center. We got inside and seated with plenty of time to spare. I felt happy to be there and to be with Anna, of course. But even more than that, I felt something inside me. Like a deep stirring in my heart. You ever get that warm glow inside you that tips you off ahead of time that God's about to show you something huge and make you sit up and pay attention? That's what it was like. Sort of like the Christian's version of Spider-man's spider-sense. I had this feeling that I was going to get far more than simply musical entertainment and a spotlight show. God was about to speak to me. Time to listen up.
The concert took on a mentality of worship. Nicole bared her soul to the audience with a story about Meredith, a girl she met on one of her tours who had this over-the-top reverence for God, going so far as to heap praises on Him for the salad she ate. But as it turned out, her reverence was just an act, a facade. The girl was dying on the inside, and she was pleading for help. Per her own words, Nicole did what I (and I'm sickened when I think this) probably would have done in her situation. She avoided her. She moved on to another tour and didn't see her again. Not too long after that, a friend caught up to her for a minute. She was told that Meredith had taken her life.
As Casting Crowns took the stage, I began to be reminded all over again of the desert place I'd been trapped in throughout the end of last year and early this year. By desert place, I mean a period of spiritual deadness, when it seems like God isn't there. You can't feel the Holy Spirit, you have no passion, no energy and you get lethargic. I know now that God never stopped seeking after me. I stopped seeking Him. But my biggest problem, probably the worst offense I committed during this time was that I became a pretender. I played the game for months, and I was good at it. Probably fooled everyone. My fire had burned itself out, and I hurt to the brink of tears deep on the inside, but I never let anyone see that. No way. I had that image to keep up. I wasn't going to let anyone feel sorry for me. I couldn't stand to be pitied. Of course, love and pity are two different things, but I wouldn't see it.
Desert places are not at all uncommon. Every believer endures them. They are what grow us. They test just how strong our faith is. Abraham went through it, Moses went through it, Joseph, Gideon, Job, Jesus went through it in the literal sense. Satan tempted him when he was weary and hungry in the desert for forty days and nights. Of course, Jesus passed with flying colors. I flunked the test. I took my eyes off of God and depended on myself to get out of the desert. Which is why I stayed there for months, spinning my wheels. It took me a long time to find my way back to the center of my faith. Parts of that journey, I have already detailed in earlier posts, so I'll spare you the long, convoluted story. For me, what it came down to, was a question of sorts. A two-part question, to be precise. The first: how healthy was my faith? The second: who was I living for?
Now you might be thinking, "well, he's a Christian, right? Those are no-brainers." That's what I thought, at first. But then God really broke into my life, and He told me to be honest. Not only with Him, but with myself. How healthy was my faith? Truthfully, I bet it wouldn't have shown up on any sort of radar or measuring scale. Jesus told his disciples that "if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there' and it will move.'" It's safe to say that mine wouldn't have raised so much as a blip on any seismograph. People say that it's hard to keep things to yourself. That it's tough not to wear your feelings on your sleeve and to hide from the world and all the people in it. I personally think it's more of the opposite. It's easy to hide. It's easy to say one thing and think another. It's easy to build a faith that is completely surface-level. Why? Because that's what people see. And we're so obsessed with looking good and impressing people that we feel we don't have to share how scummy and screwed up we really are. Anything but that. That's too uncomfortable, too fidgity. Let's paste on "pretend" smiles and act like we're on fire for Jesus. Just push that junk and baggage under the rug and nobody will see it. That's what we want. To appear like we have all the answers and that nothing's wrong inside.
That's easy. The real measure of faith is to expose the junk. To try and hide it is not only futile, it's saying to God that, "You can't help me with this. It's too big for You." It's arrogance when we try to look clean. It's faith when we come clean with the mess. When I admit to God and to people, believers and especially non-believers, how weak I am. When I tell people that I've fallen apart more times than I can count on my walk with Christ and He's always been there to lift me onto His shoulders until I could stand. When I let them know that I am helpless and weak, but God is strong. That it's His love, not mine, that changes death to life. God's Spirit loves weakness. He can't resist it. It's an open invitation for Him to go to work. That was when I started to feel Him stirring me again.
And that led me to question two: Who was I living for? For those months, it certainly wasn't God. If I was, then I would have tried to talk to Him about my mess in prayer, or asked for help from my friends or a spiritual adviser. I did none of those. I didn't see it as a big deal. As long as I could play the game, I thought I was fine. If my faith didn't seem as vibrant as it once did, well, it never stays consistent anyway. God would work it all out in His time and His own way, right? Right. But that wasn't a direct answer. That was a dodge. A way to deliberately avoid bringing up stuff that I didn't want to deal with head-on. And God doesn't play dodgeball. He's coach of a team of black-and-whites (not to be confused with the refs). It's either this or that. "You, therefore, have no excuse." (Romans 2:1)
Living for God is about sharing Jesus, not about looking righteous. It's about believing that His love is enough to change hearts and to overcome sin, not that we're somehow good enough to do it ourselves. It's about falling on-our-knees-desperate for the Holy Spirit, and letting Him bring us to the hurting and the sick with small increments of power. It doesn't look like much, but neither does a mustard seed. Jesus was all about turning the status quo on its ear with the way he taught. The fruits are mind-blowing. It's about connecting hearts, about reaching out to people and caring for them the way Jesus did. Not being afraid to share who we really are, and to talk about the difference God has made, and is making in our hearts. Not being judgmental or condescending with the mindset that we're somehow better than they are. My friend Taylor once said that "Community and relationships may be God's best teaching tool." I'm inclined to agree. And I'll also admit it's an area I need to continue to get better at.
Whew. I hope I haven't lost you.
One of the songs that Casting Crowns sang this evening really cut me to the heart. It aptly sums up my general thoughts about trying to "play the part" of a Christian, and looking good while you're at it.
"Stained Glass Masquerade"
Words & Music by Mark Hall
& Nicole Nordemann
Is there anyone that fails
Is there anyone that falls
Am I the only one in church today feelin' so small
Cause when I take a look around
Everybody seems so strong
I know they'll soon discover
That I don't belong
So I tuck it all away, like everything's okay
If I make them all believe it, maybe I'll believe it too
So with a painted grin, I play the heart again
So everyone will see me the way that I see them
Are we happy plastic people
Under shiny plastic steeples
With walls around our weakness
And smiles to hide our pain
But if the invitation's open
To every heart that has been broken
Maybe then we close the curtain
On our stained glass masquerade
Is there anyone who's been there
Are there any hands to raise
Am I the only one who's traded
In the altar for a stage
The performance is convincing
And we know every line by heart
Only when no one is watching
Can we really fall apart
But would it set me free
If I dared to let you see
The truth behind the person
That you imagine me to be
Would your arms be open
Or would you walk away
Would the love of Jesus
Be enough to make you stay
God, forgive me for being phony. I don't want to pretend anymore. Give me the boldness to speak the truth. Let others see me for who I really am, the way You see me. Forgive me when I fall short. Help me to be weak. Thank you, Father.
Oh, you weren't thinking that? Sorry. So much for my powers of perception. But I digress. I had quite a grand time this evening. And I feel the need to share about it. So consider this your obligatory ramble alert.
I went out to downtown Greenville with Anna Kate to see a concert at the Bi-Lo Center. The whole thing was a birthday present from her. Why was this particular concert so special? Well, for one, any concert with her at my side automatically qualifies as 'special.' But the other reason was that it featured Casting Crowns, one of my all-time favorite Christian groups. Nicole Nordemann, Josh Bates, and speaker Tony Nolan were also scheduled.
Another reason this night was so special was that it precluded by a few hours our six-month-anniversary. We're not married, folks. I have a lot of growth and maturing to do before I can even start thinking about the M-word. But we've been dating for six months now. And they have been six of the best months of this angst-ridden boy's life. We've already shared so many good times, made each other laugh a lot (probably more than we should've), gone through sadness and loss together, and we love the Lord with all our hearts. Anna Kate is a blessing I can never deserve. But God in His infinite mercy brought her into my life. Another big reason to praise Him, Amen.
Getting back to tonight ... So we met up in the municipal parking lot, a surprisingly vacant section that's a short walk from the Bi-Lo Center. We got inside and seated with plenty of time to spare. I felt happy to be there and to be with Anna, of course. But even more than that, I felt something inside me. Like a deep stirring in my heart. You ever get that warm glow inside you that tips you off ahead of time that God's about to show you something huge and make you sit up and pay attention? That's what it was like. Sort of like the Christian's version of Spider-man's spider-sense. I had this feeling that I was going to get far more than simply musical entertainment and a spotlight show. God was about to speak to me. Time to listen up.
The concert took on a mentality of worship. Nicole bared her soul to the audience with a story about Meredith, a girl she met on one of her tours who had this over-the-top reverence for God, going so far as to heap praises on Him for the salad she ate. But as it turned out, her reverence was just an act, a facade. The girl was dying on the inside, and she was pleading for help. Per her own words, Nicole did what I (and I'm sickened when I think this) probably would have done in her situation. She avoided her. She moved on to another tour and didn't see her again. Not too long after that, a friend caught up to her for a minute. She was told that Meredith had taken her life.
As Casting Crowns took the stage, I began to be reminded all over again of the desert place I'd been trapped in throughout the end of last year and early this year. By desert place, I mean a period of spiritual deadness, when it seems like God isn't there. You can't feel the Holy Spirit, you have no passion, no energy and you get lethargic. I know now that God never stopped seeking after me. I stopped seeking Him. But my biggest problem, probably the worst offense I committed during this time was that I became a pretender. I played the game for months, and I was good at it. Probably fooled everyone. My fire had burned itself out, and I hurt to the brink of tears deep on the inside, but I never let anyone see that. No way. I had that image to keep up. I wasn't going to let anyone feel sorry for me. I couldn't stand to be pitied. Of course, love and pity are two different things, but I wouldn't see it.
Desert places are not at all uncommon. Every believer endures them. They are what grow us. They test just how strong our faith is. Abraham went through it, Moses went through it, Joseph, Gideon, Job, Jesus went through it in the literal sense. Satan tempted him when he was weary and hungry in the desert for forty days and nights. Of course, Jesus passed with flying colors. I flunked the test. I took my eyes off of God and depended on myself to get out of the desert. Which is why I stayed there for months, spinning my wheels. It took me a long time to find my way back to the center of my faith. Parts of that journey, I have already detailed in earlier posts, so I'll spare you the long, convoluted story. For me, what it came down to, was a question of sorts. A two-part question, to be precise. The first: how healthy was my faith? The second: who was I living for?
Now you might be thinking, "well, he's a Christian, right? Those are no-brainers." That's what I thought, at first. But then God really broke into my life, and He told me to be honest. Not only with Him, but with myself. How healthy was my faith? Truthfully, I bet it wouldn't have shown up on any sort of radar or measuring scale. Jesus told his disciples that "if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there' and it will move.'" It's safe to say that mine wouldn't have raised so much as a blip on any seismograph. People say that it's hard to keep things to yourself. That it's tough not to wear your feelings on your sleeve and to hide from the world and all the people in it. I personally think it's more of the opposite. It's easy to hide. It's easy to say one thing and think another. It's easy to build a faith that is completely surface-level. Why? Because that's what people see. And we're so obsessed with looking good and impressing people that we feel we don't have to share how scummy and screwed up we really are. Anything but that. That's too uncomfortable, too fidgity. Let's paste on "pretend" smiles and act like we're on fire for Jesus. Just push that junk and baggage under the rug and nobody will see it. That's what we want. To appear like we have all the answers and that nothing's wrong inside.
That's easy. The real measure of faith is to expose the junk. To try and hide it is not only futile, it's saying to God that, "You can't help me with this. It's too big for You." It's arrogance when we try to look clean. It's faith when we come clean with the mess. When I admit to God and to people, believers and especially non-believers, how weak I am. When I tell people that I've fallen apart more times than I can count on my walk with Christ and He's always been there to lift me onto His shoulders until I could stand. When I let them know that I am helpless and weak, but God is strong. That it's His love, not mine, that changes death to life. God's Spirit loves weakness. He can't resist it. It's an open invitation for Him to go to work. That was when I started to feel Him stirring me again.
And that led me to question two: Who was I living for? For those months, it certainly wasn't God. If I was, then I would have tried to talk to Him about my mess in prayer, or asked for help from my friends or a spiritual adviser. I did none of those. I didn't see it as a big deal. As long as I could play the game, I thought I was fine. If my faith didn't seem as vibrant as it once did, well, it never stays consistent anyway. God would work it all out in His time and His own way, right? Right. But that wasn't a direct answer. That was a dodge. A way to deliberately avoid bringing up stuff that I didn't want to deal with head-on. And God doesn't play dodgeball. He's coach of a team of black-and-whites (not to be confused with the refs). It's either this or that. "You, therefore, have no excuse." (Romans 2:1)
Living for God is about sharing Jesus, not about looking righteous. It's about believing that His love is enough to change hearts and to overcome sin, not that we're somehow good enough to do it ourselves. It's about falling on-our-knees-desperate for the Holy Spirit, and letting Him bring us to the hurting and the sick with small increments of power. It doesn't look like much, but neither does a mustard seed. Jesus was all about turning the status quo on its ear with the way he taught. The fruits are mind-blowing. It's about connecting hearts, about reaching out to people and caring for them the way Jesus did. Not being afraid to share who we really are, and to talk about the difference God has made, and is making in our hearts. Not being judgmental or condescending with the mindset that we're somehow better than they are. My friend Taylor once said that "Community and relationships may be God's best teaching tool." I'm inclined to agree. And I'll also admit it's an area I need to continue to get better at.
Whew. I hope I haven't lost you.
One of the songs that Casting Crowns sang this evening really cut me to the heart. It aptly sums up my general thoughts about trying to "play the part" of a Christian, and looking good while you're at it.
"Stained Glass Masquerade"
Words & Music by Mark Hall
& Nicole Nordemann
Is there anyone that fails
Is there anyone that falls
Am I the only one in church today feelin' so small
Cause when I take a look around
Everybody seems so strong
I know they'll soon discover
That I don't belong
So I tuck it all away, like everything's okay
If I make them all believe it, maybe I'll believe it too
So with a painted grin, I play the heart again
So everyone will see me the way that I see them
Are we happy plastic people
Under shiny plastic steeples
With walls around our weakness
And smiles to hide our pain
But if the invitation's open
To every heart that has been broken
Maybe then we close the curtain
On our stained glass masquerade
Is there anyone who's been there
Are there any hands to raise
Am I the only one who's traded
In the altar for a stage
The performance is convincing
And we know every line by heart
Only when no one is watching
Can we really fall apart
But would it set me free
If I dared to let you see
The truth behind the person
That you imagine me to be
Would your arms be open
Or would you walk away
Would the love of Jesus
Be enough to make you stay
God, forgive me for being phony. I don't want to pretend anymore. Give me the boldness to speak the truth. Let others see me for who I really am, the way You see me. Forgive me when I fall short. Help me to be weak. Thank you, Father.
posted by david @ 10:02 PM
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