An Awful Christian…

The forum… it often starts there.  A friend stated in passing that they were an ‘awful Christian’.  Someone seemed not to understand that and began a new thread.  The discussion was rather… interesting… with one calling those who use such terms ‘dramatic’ and asserting that instead it would be better to give sordid details such as…

“I’m struggling with not yelling at my children” or “Bible study makes me fall asleep.” or “P*rn is a huge issue for me” or “I had an affair.”

I took issue with that suggestion and disagreed and was called, albeit indirectly, ‘overly dramatic’ as opposed to honest as I suggested such comments were intended.  Many others rebutted the entire assertion saying that  there are no ‘bad’ Christians, that it was a misnomer.  These also brought out the doctrine of  ’all sin being created equal’, that we are all ‘covered’ (the blood of Jesus you know) and so on. 

A friend on the forum posted after some encouragement some strong thoughts on the matter that really resonated with me.  I requested permission to share the post here so as to comment on it, which was granted provided it was done so anonymously.  No attribution is given in honor of that request. 

A friend speaks…

“Church-speak” is a perfect term for it.

The egomania and narcissism are phenomenal: when we say that all sin is equally significant we mean that all sins are equally insignificant until we encounter one we dislike. That one is serious.

We set ourselves up as arbiters of what matters and what doesn’t matter in the place of Christ. We assure ourselves and one another that we are all sinners, yanking scripture out of its context and far from its intentions to prove our point. We tell ourselves we are being loving and humane by doing this, as though it didn’t give us a pass for doing things that Christ says fit us for hell.

And so we comfort ourselves by twisting scripture until “it isn’t our righteousness but his” that matters, by which we mean now not only are we absolved from the discipline of disciples but we are excused from the guilt.

We posit a judgment in the future, in which we will be covered by saving blood, and in which we will have only the very flimsy excuse that we didn’t judge others for offenses we ourselves were prone to commit, like murderers who protest to the judge that they never condemned any other murderers.

But we break command after command after command: we hate our enemies; we call a brother fool; we commit adultery in a zillion ways; we manipulate each other; we use one another in more ways than any of us could count for our own satisfaction; we refuse to serve the least of these; on this very board we PM one another like catty little children to mock those we think are in the dark; we would pull out every irony and flippancy and scripture in the book to defend our self-importance rather than count another person the greater brother or sister; we excuse ourselves from going the extra mile; we admit that the meek will inherit the earth, but we mean to keep it in trust for them until they do; we cram our heads full of self-righteous tripe about the sins of others and fixate on it until we go blind; we demand our just desserts; we protect our sloth with every device known to modern psychology, science, and consumerism; our gluttony comes in every kind; we neglect the poor; we turn aside from the hungry; our prayers and fasting are quietly self-congratulatory, and we find the subtlest ways to make sure they become known without actually telling anyone; we abandon the widow and the orphan… I could go on like this for quite a while, and I’m only in Matthew 9.

And when I look at my life and the death and destruction I’ve sown, when I consider the mistakes I’ve made and the sins I’ve committed, and I am shown the consequences of my actions, and I look at the bleeding corpses of love all around me that are dying by my hand (and no, this isn’t drama, this is real), and I hear the twaddle about none of us being perfect, and all of us being redeemed by blood, I want to tear this building down.

I want to say, do you have no fear of God? Do you have no self-knowledge at all? Have you got the tiniest conception of what you’re saying? Have you looked in the eyes of the child you’ve wounded, the spouse you’ve abused with your petty stupid game-playing, the trust you’ve shattered, and the lives you’ve ruined, and then looked in the eyes of Jesus?

Because if you have, you would never be able to say “There’s no such thing as a bad Christian. You would be ashamed to open your mouth on the topic. You’d sit quietly until the topic changed, and you would wonder why death wouldn’t come more quickly for you so you wouldn’t have to keep crushing the things you touch.

Ugh!  It all resonates. It all convicts. It’s excellent and I am guilty as charged on so many levels… but then I KNEW THAT and that is why I agreed when said friend made the ‘awful Christian’ statement in the first place.  So often I look at myself and agree with the apostle when he said that he does that which he hates, and does not do that which he should love…  I agree with Chesterton…

The London Times once asked a number prominent people to write essays on the topic, What’s Wrong with the World. G. K. Chesterton reply is the shortest and most to the point in history: Dear Sirs: I am. Sincerely, G. K. CHESTERTON

… and I mourn being a bad Christian, resolving yet again to be better than I am, to die more fully to self… only to yell at my kids one more time (though I think the provocation great at the time… what homeschooling mom wouldn’t after having a 9 yr old walk up to them on day one of a new school year, point at the x between two numbers and say stupidly ‘what is that’ as if they hadn’t been proficient at multiplication just two months before) and have my failure arrest me mid-rant as though a third cock had crowed. 

I want to be so much more for Christ each day than I am. I see my failures clearly before me. I resolve repeatedly to conquer these besetting sins and yet they persist… an appalling lack of charity (to borrow a friend’s phrase), an appalling lack of humility, an appalling lack of mercy, an appalling lack of wisdom, an appalling lack of self discipline, an appalling excess of self… I could go on but I’m sure you get the idea. So many faults I am struggling to conquer under His direction and with His help….

Many seem to think that such a harsh assessment of myself (and I might add inadequate as I’m sure I am sugar coating this substantially and ignorant of most of my sins) would deny any understanding of God’s mercy and love, especially as directed towards myself.  They could not be more wrong.  It is in drawing closer to our beloved Lord, in experiencing His mercy, His love, His grace, more completely that I begin to see myself more clearly in the reflected Light of His Glory. It is as a result of His illumination of my faults in order that I might cooperate in their removal, or at least, their remediation.  It is a GIFT! How on earth could I ever be willing to have Him remove faults of which I am unaware? How willing could I be if I did not see them as repulsive as He does?

Yet, this gift can be a difficult one to unwrap at times… and at such times when yet another ‘layer’ of the ‘gift’ is revealed in all its filth and decay I can’t help but despair of His ever being finished with me and I have to ‘gird my loins’ yet again and launch once more into the fray… racing, walking, stumbling, crawling, clawing my way toward a finish that ends successfully only with my lips on His feet.  At such times, I cling to the thought that it is those children He loves that He chastises, even the bad ones… and I am thankful….

 

Imperfections…

One of my dear friends is a pastors wife.  They are a protestant homeschooling family.  This friend recently posted a letter written by her husband which was to be published in their local paper and asked for thoughts on it.  

The letter is as follows…

I’m A Christian…Please Forgive Me
Some of you may be offended or confused by what we’re saying. Others may react by thinking, “It’s about time somebody said that.” Some of you may think it’s just a gag. I assure you, I am serious. This is a sincere apology for all the harm that has been done to Jesus and His movement of revolution and life-change by those of us who call ourselves Christians.

*I’m sorry for neglecting the poor and not loving people the way Jesus did.
*I’m sorry for being slow to notice the 25 million dead in Africa from AIDS and the
40 million infected including millions of women and children who had no say in the
matter.
*I’m sorry for all the people protesting outside the funerals of our soldiers “in the name
of Jesus”.
*I’m sorry for televangelists & churches that give the impression that Jesus is more
interested in getting your money than He is in having your heart.
*I’m sorry for those who’ve given the impression that God’s love is dependant upon
what you do or don’t do instead of sharing that God loves you just the way you are.
*I’m sorry for those who’ve made you think that to be a Christian you have to act like
they do, dress like they do and use the “spiritual lingo’ they do.
*I’m sorry for the times when people in the church have been the first to judge and
condemn instead of offering Jesus’ embrace of grace and restoration.
*I’m sorry for the way many in the church have given people the idea that God hates
homosexuals.
*I’m sorry that for too long the church has treated women like second-class
citizens and acted as if their gifts are unwanted and unusable.
*I’m sorry to those who’ve given up on the church because of the infighting, back-biting
and rivalry that’s gone on by people who are supposed to be Jesus’ representatives
here on earth.

I want to ask for your forgiveness and tell you that Jesus loves you more than you’ll ever know. Please don’t allow our mistakes to drive you away from Jesus. We’re not perfect and won’t ever be as long as we draw breath. But it’s time we acknowledge the damage that’s been done, the pain that’s been inflicted and then do everything possible to change the adjectives people use to describe a Christian. Hopefully by at least acknowledging our past we can begin to change the future.

 Mixed in with many positive reactions was the following reponse by another protestant…

I think the major thing that threw me off in original post was the list of things and the implication that all Christians are guilty of those things. That’s just not the truth; and frankly, I find it insulting when it’s implied that we are – especially from a fellow Christian who knows it’s not true.

I’m ashamed to say that I once felt this way.  I was prideful and arrogant, oh-so-sure that  I wasn’t guilty of much sin I saw in others… and I sure as HECK didn’t want to align myself with them… bearing my own sin and shame was bad enough thank you very much.  Yeeeeeeeeeah. Real proud of THAT. **sigh**

That didn’t last long.  God began dealing with sin in my life that I had NO idea I was guilty of… and it wasn’t just ONE thing… and even when I thought I had some sin ‘beat’, it would rear its ugly head a year or two later like some evil specter that needed further exorcism.  I began to learn that I was guilty of all KINDS of (and a great deal more) sin that I wasn’t aware of… and that ignorance did NOT mean I was any ‘cleaner’ than Tom, Dick, or Harry… rather, just like all those on whom I sat in judgement, I was not only guilty of sin, I was even more offensive in my ignorance and false self-righteous pride than I ever was in the sin itself.  During that time, I ran across a quote in my reading that said basically…

‘when someone tells me something they find wrong with me, I am not surprised and it doesn’t hurt nearly so much as it once did… God has shown me how sinful I am in His eyes and that is MUCH worse than anything anyone else can point out… so I’ve learned to accept and appreciate the reprimand so that it can be dealt with.’

That’s a rough rendition of a much more concise quote which I unfortunately do not have the attributions for.  However, I’ve never forgotten it’s essence and that attitude is one that I have embraced more and more over time.

Not only that, but God has been teaching me about communal life during and since my reconciliation to the Church and I have come to understand how so much of the time He deals with us corporately. When He allowed His people to be taken into bondage for four hundred years, He considered the promise to bring them out again fulfilled, even if it wasn’t the exact same people who went in four hundred years before.  Look at David, Daniel, and the prophets… how often they cried out and interceded to God on behalf of their people… and how did they do it? ‘God, forgive your wretched people… THEY are horrid sinners?’ No, it was always Lord, forgive US.  They took upon themselves and attributed to themselves and all members of the body, the sins of the people. If such godly men were willing to do this, how can we do less?

Lastly, what a selfish thing to say ‘no, I am INSULTED by the idea of having to bear someone else’s sin’ and ‘no, I am INSULTED that someone else would claim to bear mine’.  HELLO?  What else did Jesus DO but that?Are we not to be LIKE Him? Does sacred scripture not say that we are to bear one anothers’ burdens? Then how can we for one moment be insulted to be thought worse than we are for the sake of healing another, reaching another, loving another. Simply, we cannot.

I, too, am guilty. God forgive me for my selfishness, my unwillingness to fully embrace the cross, my refusal to join Christ in His suffering for the sake of the world. I repent that my own pride in being *spit* clean *spit* kept me from being willing to get dirty in service to others. May I never again be too *good* to be like Christ.

Instead, I have been learning what Saint Therese of Lisieux describes here…  learning to rejoice in my imperfections, in my weakness, in being small… because in them is God revealed. In them is He most glorified.

“Ah! lord, I know you don’t command the impossible. You know better than I do my weakness and imperfection… Now I am astonished at nothing. I am not disturbed at seeing myself weakness itself. On the contrary, it is in my weakness that I glory, and I expect each day to discover new imperfections in myself.”                                

       ~Saint Therese of Lisieux

There is a dramatic paradigm shift in this view of oneself as opposed to the earlier one… and it is a great gift indeed.

 

Communal Life… Communal Penance…

In a recent post to the Spitfire Grill, I shared something that had come to me a few months ago when meditating on why God called me into the Catholic Church and not any other member of my family (so far, that I know of). 

There was a time earlier in my conversion when I was thinking ‘why me?’  I mean, why not anyone else in my family.  I’m the youngest, and definitely the least ‘spiritual’ I guess you could say, of them all.  The thought also occurs that it probably isn’t anything special about ME per se.  Not only that but thinking about how much I wished that I could share what I’ve found with my family… and knowing that wasn’t possible. 

I don’t remember how the thought process segued but I ended up thinking about the people of Israel and God’s dealings with them.  In the scriptures, when God talks about Israel being taken into bondage, and then brought back out four hundred years later, He talks about them as though they are the SAME people.  He considers His promise to bring them back as fulfilled, even though the generation who was taken captive died long ago, even though generations have died during the captivity.  He doesn’t see them, or always deal with them, individually.  He deals with them COMMUNALLY.  He says His people have been brought home, and so they have. 

At the time, that was a rather revolutionary concept for me to understand.  It did give me a measure of comfort though, to think that however long ago my family broke away from God’s Church militant  and the Authority He placed over us, in some small way my family had come home, or begun to come home, in me and my children.

Since then, I’ve been learning a lot more about the communal life of the Body of Christ.  As gracious as He is to us individually, it really isn’t about us individually.

As a former protestant, I was intimately familiar with the individual aspect of faith in an imperfect form. As a Catholic, that individual aspect has been re-formed into a more ancient, more perfect form.  A form that helps me to be better at the individual aspect of the faith.  However, God has been teaching me more and more about the communal aspect of the faith… something I very much needed in order to have a more balanced and accurate perspective of the life of faith.  I find that balance very hard to maintain as I tend to be such a selfish, self centered person. I do not find that focusing on the communal causes me to neglect or sacrifice the individual. Rather, focusing on the communal helps me to keep the individual in it’s proper place and aids me in self discipline and sacrifice. 

Tonight we had our Advent communal penance Mass at Church.  It began very like a normal Mass, but the altar candles remained dark as we did not celebrate the Eucharist.  Having progressed through the readings, and prayed a common confiteor, our priest explained the procedure for individual confessions. 

He had two priests assisting, so they were spaced at three of the four corners of the sanctuary. At the front of the Church, there was a small table with a lit Christ candle on it which was surrounded by very small red candles which were unlit. Father turned on music, to assist us in prayer and to help maintain the privacy of the confessional in the open room. After we went to confession, we were to light one of the small candles and return to our pew to pray. After everyone had been to confession and candles were lit, we knelt or sat quietly and prayed.

I was done fairly quickly, as I tend to sit near the front of the Church and the priest I preferred was up in that corner by the baptismal font. Having lit my candle I knelt to pray and wait for my children to finish.  Slowly, one by one the individual candles were lit from the Christ candle. Slowly, as each soul was cleansed, the light spread and grew.

As the last parishioner lit their candle and sat, our priest, the last still hearing confessions, came down to sit by one of the other priests.  He leaned close and I thought he was just speaking to his brother priest while waiting for us to finish.  However, when the priest nodded and completed the absolution and blessing over him, I realized that our priest too had made his confession.  Rising, he lit the last small candle and the beauty of this service broke over me.  This man, our priest, our brother… the completeness of our communal penance made more perfect by his joining us in the sacrament. This small portion of the Body of Christ come together to purify itself during Advent, to prepare the way of the Lord as best we could in obedience to Him.

It struck me deeply, the beauty of this communal act.  The humility and brokenness of each penitent, admitting before each other and God their sins.  The mercy, comfort, and forgiveness evident in the welcoming smile of each priest. The indescribable blessing that comes with the hands upon your head as absolution is given, the burden lifted. A new beginning, ours once again.