The (new) Kid Brothers of St. Frank

I had a special prayer a while back. It popped into my head while I was praying, and I really thought nothing of it. I asked God to “help me love like Christ loves me.” Little did I know at the time that this prayer sucks!

Let me explain. Ever since then, I’ve been processing this phrase and what it means. Today, I went for a little walk to get my thoughts together. (I have to go on walks and listen to music when I pray. It’s my me and Jesus time.) Suddenly, God said, “So you really want to love people like Christ loves you?”

I replied, “Of course.”

“No you don’t.” He said, sternly. I was confused.

“Well, I think I do. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because human beings are always going to let you down. Loving people like I love people is going to require you to be vulnerable, to be hated, to be turned against, to be ran from, to be hurt. Loving others without limits means that you are probably going to be taken advantage of, and you are probably going to shed a few tears. It means taking others back in without question once they’ve wronged you. It means letting someone back into your heart with never bringing up past faults after you’ve been torn to pieces by their choices. Loving like me requires you to be patient, gentle, compassionate, empathetic, and totally accepting. It means you look at the other person with as much love as you can possibly muster, even if they don’t seem ‘lovable’. You don’t ask questions. You don’t hold things against them. You just love them.”

I was silent.

He continues, “You see? This is what I was saying. Do you really want to love people like I do?”

“I don’t know.” I said. “I want to, but without all the pain.”

“Not possible. With love, you’re always vulnerable. But here’s the flip side: it’s totally worth it.”

“How is me going through all the pain worth it?”, I asked.

“Because love is real. Love is what changes people. Love is what gives you, and other people, life. Love is worship.”

“So, yes. I do want that then. But I’m probably not going to be very good at it.”

“I don’t expect you to be,” He said. I could almost hear the smile in His voice, as He continues, “all I ask is that you try your hardest.”

So, that’s where He left me today. Loving others as Christ has loved us is tough. It tough when others wrong us, or make it hard for us to live them. It’s tough to love someone who has hurt you, abandoned you, or rejected you.

But do you remember how Jesus taught we must turn from the way of the world to His ways? This is what Jesus was talking about! It’s easy to follow the worlds way to live. His way is difficult. Its the hardest way to live. But, it’s the only way to truly live.

So, I’m not perfect, I’ll probably get it wrong, and most assuredly, I’ll fail. But nonetheless, I have to try. We all have to try if we wanna see change in this world.

So, I haven’t posted since November. There’s a reason for that. My life has changed completely. When I say completely, I mean just that.

Let me back up a little. For the last few years I have preached a simple message. I’ve preached grace through Jesus Christ. I’ve preached that our call as followers of Christ is freedom expressed through Love. I’ve preached that true freedom and love requires authenticity. And I’ve preached that only through authenticity can one find true community. Great message, no?

There was only one problem…

I was the one not being authentic. That’s right. The greatest form of hypocrisy. Here I was telling everyone to be authentic and real, and I was living a total and complete lie.

It’s not that I didn’t believe what I was saying. No, I knew it was absolutely and completely true. I believed it with everything in my being. But I didn’t have the balls to live it. I just couldn’t. I was too scared. Because there was no way the “real” me could be loved like the fake me that I was parading around and showing off.

You see, the real me is gay. And I was living in a straight mans world (American evangelicalism). I couldn’t tell anyone I was gay because, for one, I would lose my job. But secondly, I felt like everyone would disown me and leave me behind.

On top of that, I was raised and taught that I was an abomination to God. Even though I had no control over my attraction that had been there since before I even knew what sex was, I was told that God hated the real me. So, I spent my life growing this fake me, hoping that if I lived enough of my life with the mask on, God would at least love the fake me enough to let me in to His little club.

But then something amazing happened: in the privacy of my own room, on my laptop, where no one could see me…I began to study scriptures for myself. I began looking into the original writings, the contexts, and the arguments. And I began to realize that God hated the fake me and loved the real me!!

That’s right: I began to see that it was the fake me (the good church boy who didn’t really do much at all) that God didn’t like very much, but instead loved the real me (the broken young man who was repressed and repulsed by his attractions).

Now this is not something that sinks in overnight. It’s a process. I had to slowly let God love me. I had to let it sink in, and then let the grace and love of Jesus Christ grow within me and call me out…in more ways than one.

By the time last August had rolled around, I was theologically okay with homosexuality. That being said, there was no way I was ever going to tell people that I was one of them, or that I was okay with it. I had way too much to lose. And I was perfectly fine dying a virgin. I didn’t care. I would do anything and everything I could to not let anyone know the real me. And I told God this, too. God laughed.

I remember one day very specifically. I had just read the story of a fifteen year old boy who was gay, and he had killed himself because of everyone telling him how much he was hated. This story broke me. I didn’t know this kid from Adam…but at the same time, I was this kid. I came close to suicide many, many times growing up. And this kids story brought all of this back. And it broke me bad.

I do most of my praying in the shower. I don’t know why. I just do. After this story broke me down, I was in the shower, weeping for this kid. And that’s when God, out of nowhere, said, “I want you to come out of the closet.”

My instant reaction was “Hell no!”. Literally. I even said it out loud in the shower. I had worked for longer than a decade at keeping this a secret from everyone, and God just wants me to suddenly tell people?! That’s insane. It’s absurd. What was He thinking?

But then He went for the jugular when He said: “Listen, if you aren’t helping, then you’re part of the problem. If you don’t help, these kids (and adults) blood is on your hands.”

I didn’t know what to say. What could I say? I would like to say that I instantly found courage and stood up for who I am. But, truth is, I’m a coward. And I was comfortable. Plus, I’m a people pleaser. So I said no anyways.

God kept trying for a month or so. He kept popping up verses at me like “if I’m trying to please people, then I can’t please God” and other similar ones. But I was resilient. I fought with God, and thought I was winning.

Then, around late September, God finally got a little perturbed at me, and I could hear the difference in His voice this time. I was driving, ironically, to seminary when He said, “All right. You know what? I’m moving on without you. You can catch up whenever you get your stuff together and find enough faith to step out like I asked you to.”

I can’t explain it at all in words that make sense except to say that I could feel the presence of God move ahead of me. And I knew at this point that He wasn’t playing.

Now I’m a firm believer that God, because of Christ, is not the least bit angry at us. But I do believe that God can get pissed at us. Not in a “I’m going to strike you down” pissed, but in a “I’m very disappointed and a little bit irritated” kind of pissed. At this moment, God was the latter, and I knew it. I knew He would still love me even if I spent the rest of my life in silence, but I now knew that was not an option.

I began, at this point, exploring what Jesus meant by the “abundant life”, and it was a phrase that took over my mind. I think my youth group at the time was getting very tired of hearing sermon after sermon on it, but it invaded my mind. And I knew that I had two choices here: I could sit in silence and let life pass me by and do nothing but fight for a system and a group of people that I didn’t even agree with, or I could step out into the unknown in faith and have the abundant life that God wants for me. So, I finally gave in.

Within a few weeks of finally saying “okay”, God crossed my path with some very colorful and beautiful people who helped give me the strength I needed to step out on faith. Over the course of the next couple of months, life was up and down. I was trying so hard to keep my head, but part of me was still fighting it, and it was killing me. I had days where I would totally just say “screw it all” and other days where I just prayed for God to get me through the day. I was living a lie, and it had taken its toll, and it was wearing me out. The real me began ripping the mask to shreds, piece by piece. Sometimes, I consciously would do things to tear the mask off, other times, the real me was so ready to come out that I would subconsciously do it. Life was confusing, to say the least. Reality didn’t seem like reality. It was ugly and grim and beautiful and exciting all at the same time.

When December hit, I only knew one thing: I had to do something, and I had to do it quick. So, I came out to my brother, who’s also gay. He helped me get some things back in order, and it felt so good to tell him. Then, I came out to a good friend of mine who was gay-supportive in the faith community, and she helped me in some other areas.

Finally, it was time to face my fears. At 23 years old, I felt like a 5 year old kid as I told my mom I was gay. You know what she did? Without missing a beat, she basically said, “so?”. It was such a relief. Another piece of that ugly mask had died, and I could almost hear Jesus yelling hooray (remember, because He hates the mask!).

Then, the big one came. On new years eve, I came out to my dad and then my best friend. You know what they said? They loved me for who I am. End of story. I never felt so alive.

Over the course of the next few weeks, I began telling friends and family, but only the really close ones. I was still testing the waters, and I still had a job at a conservative baptist church. But, nonetheless, I felt so free that it was addicting. I never felt more real and alive than I had at that point.

I secured a job in Memphis, and God began telling me that I was going to be planting a church soon, so I resigned at the church and moved over.

Two days after my last day at the church, I got outted at the church. This is when the shit hit the fan and all hell broke loose. I am going to save you the details, but I received message after message from people who once considered me a close friend, telling me how disappointed they are in me, or how angry they are at me, and a few instances, I even got threats. It was a tough few months…

Admittedly, I gave in to the lies a few times. There were times that I just went a little crazy because I didn’t want to face the heartache. I just became apathetic and scared, at the same time. But god was faithful. As I was falling, He was catching me. In mid-February, He reminded me, “I didn’t call you out here in the wilderness to let you die. I called you out here to grow you. You’ve still got some wilderness ahead of you, but it’s going to be worth it.” That reminder helped me a lot. I began to settle into the real me at this point, and the mask had almost completely disappeared. Almost.

It’s now May. I am three days away from turning 24, and I have to say, this year has been the craziest of my life. But I’m so excited about where it’s heading. I am finally dating someone that I feel natural around and that legitimately knows me (which felt weird at first because I didn’t know how to be real). I am leading worship for the church plant that God told me about months ago. I am living life, and ready for whatever God has next.

But the mask had to be killed off completely. God pointed out I was still holding on to him (the fake me), and it wasn’t healthy. And that’s why I’m writing this blog. The mask is yelling at me as I speak, telling me not to do this. Even though the closest people in my life all know I’m gay, there is still a small piece of me that cringes at the thought of being this vulnerable and of who may read this. But I have to kill off the mask completely. I have to be authentic.

God has taught me that for us to make a real difference in this world, we have to be true to ourselves, authentic to other people, love everyone we come across for who they are, and point them to the love that God has for their true selves as well.

When you show someone that God loves them, and not their mask, it changes their life forever. I sure know it changed mine.

Some of you reading this may be really upset right now. Some of you may truly hate me. Some probably quit reading a long time ago. But I’m learning to be okay with that. Remember: if I’m trying to please people, I can’t please God. Everything I’ve done and decided upon was at the leading of the Spirit, and I’m simply putting my faith in it and wherever that leads me.

I will be getting back into the writing game now, as I continue to learn things and walk this journey that God has sent me on. Also, I will detail more of my journey up to this point, too. What you just read was the readers digest version. But most of all, I want to be 100% authentic so that hopefully my story can help lead others to the love of Christ.

“I’ve got to be me – whoever that is!” – Bob Dylan

This morning, I stood in my little section of the pews in my church, just as I do every Sunday. The song service was especially great this morning, and everything was good. It was a nice day (even though windy). As the song service continued, I felt a need to stop singing. This is nothing out of the ordinary. I do this every once in a while during worship, to just listen to the music and let it soak in.

When I stopped singing though, I began to watch the choir. Gosh, the music they were making was spectacular. It really was great. But then, I began to look at each individual, tracking my eyes around the 50+ people choir. I spotted a man who used to be a professional wrestler, and a beautiful young lady that looked so innocent. I saw a lady who used to be addicted to drugs, and a man who has spent his life teaching the Scriptures. I saw one person who counsels individuals, and another that had recently been in prison. There was an ex-alcoholic, and another who probably has never had a drink. I saw people who were stuck in their ways, and others who were radicals. I saw people that are dedicated to Republicans, and others who are die-hard southern Democrats. There were mothers, brothers, sisters, and fathers. There was such diversity within one little group in my little SBC Church in Arkansas.

And all of these people, together, were making beautiful music.

For a moment, this took my breath away.

All of these people had a story. All of them had things they were dealing with. Some had heavy hearts, and you could see it in their eyes. Some were so passionately forgiven, they couldn’t help but hold clinched fists as they sang their hearts out.

I could hear God whisper through the chorus of the song they were singing, and He was saying, “I love every single one of them. Apart from each other, they are a mess. But, together, it’s spectacular, isn’t it?”

And it really is spectacular. I believe God likes unity. I think that’s very Scriptural. What I saw in those precious few breath-taking moments was God making beauty out of unity.

Then, this got me thinking some more: what else could be made beautiful if we could simply unify? What could be accomplished if we could look past the person, and see the piece of God inside them? What would this world be like if we could take down our walls and our prejudices, and allow each other to join our own song to God?

One person singing by themselves may not be the most beautiful sound in the world. Two people singing together may not be much better. But when you add about 40 others, or even 10 others, the music begins to work so much better. And the more people you add to the mix, the more beautiful the sound becomes. It begins to swell, and it begins to grip your emotions. The music reaches in deep inside your soul, and clinches the very fibers of your being, and you can’t help but either sing along or simply enjoy the sound.

In the same way, one person living can make a mess of things. Two people living together may not be much better. But when you add a whole community of folks coming together with one purpose – to make much of Him and not of ourselves – something beautiful begins to happen. Our labels begin to shed, and our pasts begin to be forgotten. Suddenly, we all start to look and sound the same as a community (individually we may look and sound very different however, but all that can be seen is the beauty of the unity), and we forget ourselves and start joining in to the beautiful worship being made.

I learned a lot today just by shutting up. I learned that I have some prejudices that I myself need to work through. I also learned that I’ve been too focused on me and not on the community of people around me. I learned that grace means that I can forget myself and start pointing my eyes outward, as an expression of Christ’s love for us all, and join in the song of worship happening all around me. God truly does love everyone that’s a part of this Universal Choir of life, and He wants us to come together. It’s there that we find joy. It’s there that we too cannot help but throw up hands clinched in worship to Our Father who has a heart of love.

Maybe I should just shut up more often…

A while back, a Facebook friend of mine, Carlos Shelton, posted a status or comment that, at first, I shrugged off. I don’t even remember the exact wording, but it was something like, “Can doctrine give you grace? Can theology save your life?” I remember at first reading and shrugging it off, thinking that it sounds very spiritual, but it’s not for me. I continued on my day. But, later in to the day, I was driving on the Interstate listening to the radio, and out of nowhere, I began to feel like that was exactly what I needed to hear. It was like God was saying, “But can it?”

So, thus began a little bit of an argument with God (which is never a good idea, because somehow He always wins). Now, it wasn’t a verbal argument with God, because then you would think I was schizophrenic. This was all in my thought life, but I’m about to tell you to you in narrative format so you can get a feel for the conversation. It was something like this…

“So, can theology save your life?” said God, out of nowhere.

This puzzled me, and so I replied, “Well, no. But everyone knows that.”

“Do they? Are you so sure about that?”, he said. I could tell His tone was playful, but it also took me aback a little, because why would He be getting on to me about theology? I mean, theology literally means, “the study of God”.

“I don’t get what you’re getting at, Abba. Sure people know that. Theology is just getting to know You more. You’re the one who gives grace. You’re the one who heals. You’re the one who saves. Jesus Christ is who we follow, not theology.” I retorted.

“Interesting.”, said God.

Interesting? Did He really just say, “Interesting”, I thought. His tone was no longer playful. I could sense a little playfulness in there, but I could tell this conversation just turned serious. The way He said that made me realize He didn’t believe me at all, and in all honesty, I wasn’t so sure I believed me any more.

After a chance to recollect my thoughts, I came back strong, “Wait! Are You implying that I am following theology instead of following Jesus?”

He smiled, “You said it. Not me.” His playfulness was back, but He was definitely in a teaching mood, and the pride-fulness in me felt like I should defend myself.

“I don’t follow ‘theology’! I mean, the whole reason I study theology is because I want to know You more, and build our relationship!” He probably sensed I was taking this more serious, because His voice got more serious.

“No you don’t”, He said.

Now, this short reply kind of pissed me off. What does He mean I don’t? Of course, that’s why I study theology!

“I don’t?” scoffed I, but I knew He was going to go for the jugular. God always goes for the jugular in these teaching moments. So, I grimaced and waited for it.

“No, you don’t study theology to know Me more. You study theology because you want to be right, and you want to prove to people how right you are.”

Ouch! There it was. The jugular moment (or so I thought…the worst was to come)!

I dropped my head.

“You know, Abba, I think You’re right.”

“Of course, I’m right,” He chuckled, “I’m God.”

I breathed a sigh of relief that He was being playful again, but unfortunately for me, He wasn’t done teaching.

“But, Abba..” I pleaded, but He cut me off.

“What’s the last thing you read in Scripture?” He asked, completely ignoring the fact I was just talking. But, I figured I would humor Him.

“Romans 5″, I said, with a smidgeon of gasconade.

“What about before that?”

I thought for a second, then replied, “Galatians! The whole book, too!”

“And before that?”

Where is He going with this?

“I think I read 1 Corinthians before that,” and just to help His cause, I added, “and before that I read 2 Timothy, and I think before that I was back in Romans again, where I read the whole book in two sittings!”

“That’s good, son,” He said, which made me smile, “but when was the last time you read the Gospels?”

My heart raced. Some sweat beaded up.

When is the last time I read the Gospels? It’s been months, at least.

“Wow. I don’t know what to say. I don’t even remember, Papa.” I said, all boasting out the window.

He grinned a little, but with that Ronald Reagan, grandfatherly type of grin, as He said, “I know it’s been a while. This is how I know you are more concerned with theology than with me. You’re so busy trying to know all about me, that you forget all I want is for you to simply know me. You spend all your time devouring Paul and John’s letters, that you completely overlook getting to know Jesus, and spending time there.”

I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t even look at Him anymore because I was ashamed. He put His hand on my shoulder, then rustled my hair a little.

“Hey,” He said, smiling, “it’s okay. I’m not condemning you. I’m just trying to give you a little readjustment. I miss you.”

I looked at Him and gave Him a hug, as I said, “Yeah, I miss you, too.”

After a minute of just enjoying His presence, I finally got up the courage and said, “So, what do I need to do?”

“Well, I’m not telling you not to study theology.” He said, “I know you love that, and that’s okay. It’s a good thing. But, how about we take a different route to the way you study theology?”

My curiosity was piqued, “How so?”

He continued, “Instead of studying theology from books so much, how about you get to know about me…by being with me?”

Wow. There was that other jugular moment. How is He so good at that?

Honestly, I had never really thought about it in that way. But, that’s asinine that it took this conversation for me to figure it out. I mean, I don’t get to know my friends by reading about them (unless Facebook stalking counts). I get to know my friends by just being with them and living life alongside them. And you can learn a lot more about someone by being with them than you can by any books you read.

This is where I’ll end the conversation. We changed the subject after that anyways, and began talking about all the ways I’ve screwed up, and I’m sure you don’t want to hear about that…

That car ride did a lot for me, and it’s still messing with my head. But, it definitely was a call to repentance for me, in more ways than one. I get very caught up in the minutia of theology. I want to know what’s right, what’s wrong, and what’s grey. If I don’t know these things, I go into a tizzy, and get so confused that it leaves me in despair. I end up getting so frustrated, either with myself, other people, or God, that I usually throw my hands in the air and revert back to shallow religious talk about nothing, and usually worse off than I began.

I have to keep reminding myself that theology is not the center of my life; Jesus is the center of my life (or should be, anyways). And on top of that, I shouldn’t spend so much time trying to make other people understand why they should follow my theology instead of theirs, and should spend that time pointing those people to the same Jesus that I know. Because just as I’ll learn about Him by being with Him, they too will only get to know Him by being with Him.

(Don’t get me wrong, though. I believe we should stand up for what we believe. I believe wholeheartedly in grace, freedom, love, peace, the cross, the resurrection, and the way of Christ, and I’m not backing down from those very easily. And I don’t feel like God was putting down the study of theology – that’s a good thing! – but was rather wanting me to redirect my priorities.)

So, now comes the hard part. I know all of this, and He’s made it very plain to me, but now I have to act on it. I am going to being to try some practices of just getting alone with God for long periods of time. And I’m also going to try to do some little practices of acknowledging His presence throughout the day. Now, if you know me, you’ll understand how hard both of these practices are going to be for me. I’m quite busy, but on top of that, I’m forgetful, scatterbrained, and ADHD. So, yeah. It’s going to take some work. But, I feel like I have to do it.

I am a theology addict. And I’ve learned that God’s okay with that…as long as I’m learning theology by being with Him.

That’s all for now. Grace, love, and peace to all. Thanks for reading my neurotic little blog.

And just like that, I have a complete rejuvenation of Spirit. It literally blows my mind. Well, not literally, but you get the point.

I’m going to confess to you, if you’re reading this, that the last few months have been Hell for me. They’ve probably been some of the roughest months of my life. Not probably. They have been. I think I’ve shed more tears in the last month that my whole life combined. From family drama, to dark nights of the soul, to despair, to personal issues…it all just kind of wrapped up in one big flaming Fall of fire. (You like that alliteration? I impressed myself there…)

But, just as fast as the despair hit me, it all went away. I am feeling such a rejuvenation deep within me. It’s like the Holy Spirit all of a sudden said, “Oh, hey, I’m still right here, by the way.” I know that’s a very weird way to explain it, but it’s all I’ve got. The coolest thing about the hard seasons of life is that I look back and God can say, “See, I was right there the whole time. You just couldn’t or didn’t see me at the time.” To me, that’s so legit.

Now, I’m not saying I’m totally out of the woods yet. But, I do feel like I’m nearing the end of the tunnel in this dark night. It’s been a long battle, but God’s voice is getting stronger, and that gives me hope. And that hope gives me more faith. And that extra faith helps me to love more. And the love gives me more hope, and the cycle continues.

Okay, I’m rambling, so I’ll end now. I just simply had to share how excited I am to be feeling the end of this whole thing (whatever that may be), and am excited about what is next. If you happen to be reading this, and find yourself in your own dark night of the soul, have hope. Because there were many nights I thought I would never even feel again – much less feel good – but yet, God pulls us through. Simply remember, even though you may not can see God in the current situation you’re in, He is there. He may be silent, and He may seem distant…but He’s right there. Say hi to Him. Run to His lap. Cry on His shoulder. Your pain is not His pleasure. Don’t think like that. Your pain is His pain. Allow Him to love you, because that love will get you farther in your dark night than anything else. So, quit reading this stupid blog post, and go let God love you.

I love you as well.

Thanks for prayers, and thanks for reading.

Lord, have mercy. Christ, have mercy. Lord, have mercy.

Will I post this? I don’t know. For right now, this is going to serve as personal therapy for me. I’m at a crux, a pivotal point in life. I have decision to make, things to plan. But, I also have people dependent upon me, and people watching me. Let me back up: there is so much drama in my life at the moment that I can barely keep a thought in my head for more than ten seconds before it wavers off into oblivion and despair. My parents are in the midst of a divorce that is quickly turning bitter and ugly. This, of course, has led to fighting in and amongst the very structure of family that I once held so dear. And now, here I am, faced with this lingering thought that just will not go away, no matter how much I push it away: “Are you really going to follow Christ?” I’ll expound more on this in a minute.

First though, I feel like I must give heed to the emotional state I’m in, and at least give it some credit. Before I make a big statement about faith, I need to first figure out where I am. Because in no way would I want to make any huge, life-altering decisions if it’s all based on petty emotions. My parents divorce has cut me further than I thought it would. I am really good at saying, “I’m okay. It’s fine. I can handle this.” But the conversation with my mom last week that ended in yelling, and me watching the stupid words come out of mouth – only wishing they could come back in – would prove otherwise. I think it’s the death of a structure that has hit me hard. I always found my strength within the structure of my family. I feel like my strong family is part of what has made my life somewhat successful (subjectively, of course). In the back of my mind, I always knew that if things got too rough, or if life really just pissed on my parade, that I could run back home to mom and dad and everything would at least be okay. But that whole paradigm has now been put to death. And I guess what I’m going through right now is the grieving of that death. I am having to find a new normal. Now, one would think that being 23 and out on my own, the divorce should not do this much to my structure, and honestly, I thought the same thing when I first heard the news. But, these feelings have laid dormant for the past couple of months, only to come screaming and clawing their way out now. So, I’m working through that at the moment. This has also caused me to become pretty excessively introverted here lately. If you know me, you know this is not normal. All my life, I have scored 98% extroverted on the MBTI. Now, it’s getting closer to the 50%, and I feel like somedays it’s even more than that. All this time alone, though, has been good for me, I think. It’s allowed me to find a recharge somewhere as I try to rebuild the foundations of my new normal.

In short, life has brought me to a brink. I don’t want you to misinterpret what I am writing as a “woe is me” thing. It’s not. There are people out there in a lot worse situations than me, and I get that. I’m just trying to phrase into writing what I’m feeling inside. I’m starting to encounter in life, and in faith, the “dark night of the soul” that Saint John of the Cross wrote about. There is a paradigm shift taking place within my life. And all of that is good and fine and dandy, but the problem is that I have no idea what’s shifting. As Peter Rollins’ says in one of his books, I feel like the cartoon character who knows that I have walked off the edge of a cliff, but is too scared to look down because I know that as soon as I do, I will have to fall. But, what if the point is to fall?

Do you get what I’m saying here? I know it’s vague and hard to make out because I’m having to talk in metaphors to describe where I am, but the metaphors is all I have to give. Basically, what I’m asking is this: What if God brings us to these brinks for His purposes? What if He is saying, “Hey, child, I know you’re scared to look down right now. But I’m going to need you to look down. I need you to trust me. I know it’s scary. I know you’re afraid of crashing and burning when you hit the bottom, but I’m going to need you to do this. I need you to just look down. Let gravity do what gravity does, and go with it.”

Do you know how scary that thought is? Well, if you don’t, it’s freaking terrifying. Everything I knew as “normal” is no longer “normal”. But an even bigger part is that I feel like God is not at the bottom to catch me. I don’t think He’s down there with a net making sure that I get no scrapes and bruises. No, I feel like God is standing at the edge of the cliff with me. I feel like, even, He has me by the hand. Scratch that. I feel like God is the one who first stepped at the edge of the cliff, and He drug me out there with Him. I believe He still has me by the hand, though, and now He’s just waiting for me to look down and allow gravity to do it’s thing. I’m starting to learn that God is not there to catch me when I fall. God is there to help me fly, instead.

So, that’s what I mean when I ask, “Am I really going to follow Christ?” Christ said that if we follow Him, He is going to turn everything in our life upside down. I’m starting to get this. It’s starting to make more sense. But, am I really going to do it?

As I type this, Tom Petty is bemoaning, “It will all work out eventually” over the radio. But the doubt seeps in through the static of the speakers and says, “But what if it doesn’t?”

And this is the pivotal point of the pyramidal structure of where I currently sit. Does following Christ mean I’m supposed to run back to the solid ground of the cliff and hold on with everything I have? Or does it mean I’m supposed to just breathe in deeply, keep hold of His hand, look down, and set sail to the unknown?

Used to, I thought it was the first. Now, not so much. I’m starting to believe Christ is leading me into the unknown depths of whatever is at the bottom of this cliff. Maybe that’s why it’s so hard. Because I don’t know what awaits me at the bottom. I don’t know if I’m going to hit water and swim. I don’t know if there is a pile of marshmallows to sink in all the pain of the fall. I don’t know if I’m going to fall forever. I don’t know if it’s solid concrete that’s going to crunch me up like an accordion. I just don’t know.

But I have to look down.

I just have to.

The longer I stand here with my eyes closed, the more I feel like gravity is pulling me. Maybe it’s only a matter of time before Christ doesn’t wait for me to look down. Maybe it’s only a matter of time before I’m flying and don’t even know it. But I don’t want it to get to that point. If Christ is calling me to follow Him into the oblivion of the new normal, I want to make sure I’m doing it out of trust in Him, and not because He’s pushing me along. Maybe that’s prideful, I don’t know.

So, the question still remains, “Am I going to follow Christ or not?” Am I going to trust Him enough to just look down; to just open my eyes and let the cartoon physics take over? I mean, didn’t Jesus say that following Him was going to be a lot like this? He never said things were going to be easy, or that life was going to be hunky-dory. He never said it wasn’t going to be complicated, either. He just said to take up the cross and follow Him. Period.

Fear. Fear is what’s holding me back from the new normal. It’s what’s keeping me from just trusting Him. And fear is what’s keeping me from allowing the old paradigm to die. I’m trying with all I can to resuscitate it back to life. No, I think that moment has passed. Rather, I think now I’m simply acting like Norman Bates, and I am just sitting in a room with the corpse of the old paradigm and acting like it’s still alive. I talk to it. I dress it. I even put food out for it. But it’s not alive. It’s not there. It’s dead. My fear is keeping me from facing the reality of that death, because I don’t want to go through the pain of grieving it.

So, maybe that’s the next move. I have to open my eyes to reality, begin the fall into the unknown, grieve the death of the old paradigm – the old standard – and begin to fly into the oblivion of the new paradigm. I have never doubted that Christ is right there holding my hand the whole way. So, why do I still fight it off?

Well, I’ve wrote enough, I guess. If you’re reading this, I hope you’re not confused. I apologize for the vagueness of the metaphors, but it’s the best way I can possibly explain it. Besides, this writing wasn’t really for you anyways – it was for me. It’s my way of getting thoughts out of my head and on to something physical. At this point, I’m left with the simple question of whether or not I’m going to open my eyes. That, my friends, is still up in the air.

As Jennifer Knapp says at the beginning of her new album, “I’m so tired of standing on the edge of myself.
You know I’m longing for it: To dive in, dive in.”

So. Deep breathe. Open eyes. Look down.

Here goes nothing…

Sorry I’m just now uploading this post. The last couple of days of the trip were jam-packed, and I was too tired to post. Then, I decided to unwind a little and process some of the week before I posted about it. Not sure I gave it enough processing time, but here goes anyways…

I think this trip could have been one of the best we’ve taken. It had nothing to do with the programming of the trip, but just with the things that we learned while we were there. The staff at YouthFront simply know how to love people like Christ. End of story. I simply loved just watching these guys live on mission.

For example, one day I rode around with Kurt. Kurt works for YouthFront, and was sort of our “go to guy” on the trip. Kurt gets it. I mean, really. When I envision what it looks like to follow Christ, Kurt is living out the type of life I think of. He and his family move into the neighborhood of Argentine, a place where most middle-class white folk run from, and he makes it his home. He’s not there with an agenda, he’s not there to prove himself. He is simply there to love because Jesus commanded him to.

On the last day there, we packed up a bunch of boxes of food to send to the local food pantry. For me, this was the highlight of the trip. We all had a blast making these lunch bags. They were simple little bags of rice and veggies, with soy and vitamin powder in it. It was a lot of work, but after about two hours, we made up a bunch of boxes. They have a great thing going with these food bags, and I’m going to look at possibly getting something like this going in Jonesboro.

Later that day, we hung out at the Franklin Center (a community building) and showed a movie outside. This time was spent with a lot of the neighborhood kids. I think this was the highlight of the trip for most. They loved this part of the week. Some great relationships were built that night, and the students really enjoyed it.

I think of all the things that I personally took back home took place during a prayer we prayed while bagging up the food. It said, “God, don’t let us try to ‘change the world’. Simply let us do what you commanded us to do, and let You change the world.” (paraphrased)

This really hit me hard. I’m not quite sure why it hit so hard. I just know that it hit me that my job is not to try and be a super saint, or be a big shot that starts a new reformation. My job is to simply do what He commanded me to do. And what is His command? “This is His command: believe in the name of the Lord, Jesus Christ, and love each other as He commanded us.” (1 John 3:23)

The Gospel tells me I have one focus: believe upon Jesus, and love radically.

If I make this my focus, I can’t go wrong. John tells me that this is exactly what God has commanded me to do. And commanded you to do. I think if we (particularly, I) spent less time trying to program the next big thing, and spent all of that energy on just loving people, then God can start the next big thing Himself — and it will be a lot bigger of a big thing that I could have ever done!

It’s late, and I tried to type this out quick. I hope it made sense. I’m going to keep debriefing the trip and these thoughts for the next few days. I may have more to say about this to come.

Thanks for reading!

Peace and love.