Mrs. Modern Mother Mary

[Foreword: As a word of caution, this one is controversial, even as I read it back to myself. In fact, I feel inclined to pray Psalm 139:23-24 as I reflect on it. Please, view at your discretion.]

I've felt weird for the past few days. Detached. Not in most areas of my life, but specifically at church, and among that social group. I don't like this condition, because it feels like I'm in a state of unrest with my faith. But it's not really that, I don't think. I've still been pretty good about my time spent intentionally with God, and the positive changes are still pretty apparent in the way I've been acting and living life. I still feel like He's moving in me. But my issues seem to be specifically with some of the church.

I first really noticed it on Sunday, when I went to the morning service. I didn't much feel like socializing with my friends, even though ministry commitments keep me from sitting with them half of the time. But as I've thought about it since then, I've realized that even college group hasn't been very appealing to me lately. So although I have had other responsibilities keeping me from going, I haven't been very upset about that, I guess because I haven't really felt much like going anyway. That's a bummer, because up until now these things have been the highlights of my week.

The cause is something that I've noticed about myself: that I find certain tendencies of some of the people within the church to be particularly annoying. For instance, the apparent disinclination to talk about anything secular, just casually. Like God would smite us wicked heathens for mentioning anything that isn't in the Bible. Or the stereotypical conservative bent of the church, manifesting as snarky comments about the left side of the political spectrum, as though you can't be a Christian if you don't vote Republican. Or the always-chipper appearance, real or not, that so often seems to ignore the brokenness of each individual even within the church body. These things might seem petty, and I feel like I'm rebellious and sinful for even being irritated about them, but just being honest, they've been irksome to me for a while.

I guess it bothers me because it feels misguidedly pious, and honestly a bit fake. If all the words that ever come out of our mouths are spoken in Christianese, then how the hell is the rest of the human race supposed to relate to us? How can we extend hands toward the unbelieving world if we're so busy building up sterile walls of holy chatter that estrange the people we're supposed to be guiding?

Things like this make me think of my life before I was following Christ, and how I would have reacted to some of the things that are said in this circle. If all anyone had ever said to me beforehand was spoken in this alienating, holy speech, I would have inwardly thought about how brainwashed they are. It would have acted as a deterrent to me more than anything else.

I think the way to win people's hearts to Christ is through being lovingly relatable. If you just go and attack an unsaved stranger with Bible verses, it's no better than standing on a street corner, shouting about how everyone else is going to Hell. We can't just start off by making people feel uncomfortable. Christianity is relational. The joy and discomfort of following Christ has to be each person's choice, and the only way they'll want to make that choice is if a relationship is built first. That means that we have to be able to meet them, to some extent, in their own territory.

Since the journey truly begins at that point, ignorance of the inevitable pitfalls that follow indicates neglect of the necessary continuation of the relationship between people within the church. People still struggle with their sins, even after being saved, and yet too often I get the impression that members of the church body see salvation as a trophy rather than a lifestyle. That only serves to push struggling Christians into a faith crisis as they begin to doubt their own sincerity in their beliefs and convictions.

Solitary Ground

I spent most of today in a particularly dark place. I was almost completely immobilized, unable to motivate myself to do anything. I couldn't break out, even though I knew I needed to, and I was beyond the reach of anyone who tried to help me.

It scares me when this happens. It doesn't happen as often now as it used to, which is comforting, but the powerlessness of that feeling is still overwhelming. What is there to do when I'm plunged into darkness, and prayer, Bible study, and company bring me no comfort?

I read through some psalms, and then started on Ecclesiates, which are the books to which I usually turn when I'm in a depressed mindset. I suppose they helped marginally. I guess sometimes the only thing to do is endure patiently, and try to remember and internalize the fact that God won't abandon me.

Resistor

A lot of things lately have been pointing to my low self-image as a problem that needs to be fixed. It seems like every day I'm reminded of one of my personal traits that I don't particularly like to see in myself.

I suppose this awareness started with my study of temperaments, specifically my own. Upon learning that I'm melancholy and phlegmatic (neither of which is the least bit surprising), I was partly amused at the utter accuracy, but more distraught that my tendencies are hard-wired, and certain things that I admire in others will never come naturally to me. Instead, I have traits that are somehow admired by others, but which I feel like I'll never see as being of any worth.

I acknowledge the necessity of these traits. Things like deep thoughts are necessary, and the peacemaker is an important role in conflict resolution. But I've asked God several times why He chose me to be this way. I see the admirable qualities of family and friends, and I wish I was more like them.

I know that isn't right. I know that God created me this way with a deliberate purpose, and that my dissatisfaction with it is sinful. Furthermore, I've been told by many people, especially recently, that they admire the qualities in me that are inherent in mel-phlegs. I've learned to thank them, but my gratitude is hardly genuine. In truth, I would rather see those qualities in someone else.

I don't like my excess of emotions, deeply introspective tendencies, and obsession with principles, because they combine and put me into a depressive state. I don't like being a perfectionist, because half of me is too neutral to self-motivate. I don't like not being opinionated, because it makes me feel like I don't even have a personality at all. I don't like being completely introverted, because I feel like I'm below most people's notice, and if I were to leave their lives, they'd barely even notice I was gone.

How much of this is just raw material that needs to be refined by pursuit of Christ? Will I be more satisfied with them once they're developed into something more Christ-like? I know the qualities are good and necessary. But I feel like I don't exhibit them well enough to be at the expense of the great things I see in others. I can only hope that when my life is properly focused, I will be able to see some of the reasons I was created the way that I was, and then acknowledge my own worth.

Out of the Ashes

Every now and then lately I've been thinking about my progress. A lot has happened since my journey began. But I have to say, the most remarkable things have been within the past couple of months. Mind you, the condition of my life is basically the same. But I feel like my outlook on a lot of things has changed for the better.

It's good to know that God is faithful. I admit, for a while I doubted, when I would do all I could to make positive changes in my life and the condition would remain. But time, activity, wise counsel, medication, and even some divine inspiration, while in fact not changing said conditions, have instead trued my outlook, which is far better.

While I look back, it becomes more and more apparent that none of this would have been possible without the pain and suffering that accompanied me along the way. And I would often ask God why He would allow me to suffer so much, now that I am following Him. Truth be told, I wouldn't have believed or understood if He had told me outright. Some things just have to be taught by trial.

A prime case in point: one of my greatest concerns about myself was what I perceived to be a lack of empathy. I wondered why I couldn't legitimately care about other people, as I always seemed to have some kind of selfish motive behind my feelings. I was aware of this, and that awareness contributed to my depression, because I couldn't change that, no matter how hard I tried. What I didn't realize was that God had been working with this all along. And He still is.

I think that God likes to show us His love in a variety of ways. Each way speaks to us in its own respect, and I think many are hard to perceive as what they are. When we think of God loving us, I think the most common conception of that is when He lavishes obvious blessings on us, like healing and success. Harder to see as loving treatment are things like trial and discipline; things that are uncomfortable at best, but that are often agonizing. It's our nature to experience these things and think that God is punishing us, or that He has turned away from us. The thing to realize, though, is that those are disguised blessings, helping to shape and temper us. To equip and prepare us for what God has planned for our lives.

Back to my example, my own pain and suffering, I think, somehow made me more aware of that of those around me. It was like God was telling me not only that everyone suffers in their own way, but also that He loves all of them too, even the ones that I don't like. I don't have a worldly explanation, because through my own best efforts, I couldn't truly feel for others, and while I didn't like the fact that I hated people, I did. But a reality of which I only just became aware is that somehow I do actually care for them now, whereas I didn't before. I can only assert that it is God that has softened my cold, callous heart through the trials He has allowed me to face. The truly wonderful thing is that I'm even beginning to feel that way toward people I've considered to be enemies.

Only God can soften us in such a way.

I think all this goes to show that it sometimes takes a broken heart to truly have a heart for the broken. It's a painful and uncomfortable process, but one that I believe is well worth the suffering.