I AM ~m

mold

This is hopefully one of the overall heaviest-hearted blogs I’ll ever feel the need to write. If I'm being honest my core of belief and faith has been shaken to get to this point. It’s been shaking for a while. At this point I don’t think any progress is possible without acknowledging that. My spirit has not been okay, weighed into stagnation by questions and anger and, as a result, my spirit has grown some mold. And I’m not really digging the mold smell. 

After that intro I had to write most of this blog backwards, beginning with the resolution. For me to feel comfortable diving into this pit I had to start with hope. 

Reading this thing back, there are many words that sound uninformed and, honestly, emotional. Some emotion most definitely bleeds through here, and I’m not sure what I can say to the uninformed part, other than the fact that I have devoted myself to collecting conversations and perspectives from people with whom I agree and disagree alike. 

So, be warned. These are completely imperfect and human words speaking from a place of frustration and, at times, hurt. I’m not currently employed by a church, which helps me to say publicly what some ministers and people in more public settings have expressed to me behind closed doors and in confidential conversations. 

I want to have the courage to communicate the real things people that are questioning or leaving the church are saying. I want to have the courage to say what my actual thoughts are, and that's the most difficult part for me. 

Here's a thought I was finally able to articulate, if you’ve made it this far.

not when…

As my years have progressed it has become increasingly difficult to want to publicly label myself as a representative of Christ. I don’t say this lightly. It’s been a slow process that I fully acknowledge as a result of putting more faith in people than God, faith in the branches over faith in the Vine. But, please hear me out. I have not felt safe or welcome among my fellow branches. I’m not alone in this feeling, either. At the risk of sounding like an ungrateful product of a beautiful Christian family, I can't go any longer without saying this. 

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Church, namely the traditional institution I grew up in, isn't a place I've wanted to call home anymore.

Not when the institution of Christ followers I grew up in has isolated my loved ones for the sake of conflict avoidance, seemingly even choosing ignorance to favor - whether unconsciously or consciously, it doesn't matter - those who add public value to the church (you never think it happens until it happens to you, seems like). I’m specifically talking about the enabling of abuse without accountability (I’m thinking of at least a half dozen cases of this, so if you’re reading and think this is about you, you’re both right and wrong).

Not when I read the post of the parent of youth students in my church that says “the best [political affiliation] is a DEAD [political affiliation],” affirmed not only by no one telling them it was wrong, but also with likes and laughing comments from my fellow church-goers. 

Not when someone born a woman holding a microphone will be publicly and popularly damned from the pulpit but infidelity and abuse will be ignored by the same pulpit. “Progress is being made,” but how many people have to quietly leave the church before a contextual analysis of scripture is brought to the table? 

Not when someone else claiming the title of Christ Representative waves a “Jesus saves” flag in the middle of a race supremacy mob. My heart broke when I saw that flag with no public condemnation of it from anyone who taught me what I know about Jesus for the first two decades of my life. I’m going to type that again. No one I could find from my church said it was wrong. Yet multiple people came out in support of, if not the mob, the cause of the mob. This circumstance got me thinking about the mob that crucified Jesus. How many of them knew what was actually going on, and how many simply blindly believed those who said Jesus deserved to die? It only takes a few false (or even careful words with a hint of truth) and emotionally charged words to get this kind of groupthink started.

And especially not when the first response to the above list by my fellow Christians is dismissal because I don’t have all the “facts.” My facts are rhetoric and impact, but that’s a different topic for a different time. 

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The fact is that people I truly love and truly respect have recently unknowingly told me that I can’t be a follower of Christ based on my studied beliefs, falsely assuming my beliefs were parallel to theirs because I claim to follow Jesus. Each time I’ve been too shell shocked to respond. These conversations have shaken me. 

What am I to do with that information? Assume we’re representing the same God? 

Or that I won’t get in to their ideal heaven? The ideal eternity of people I love? 

representing

But recently I became especially fed up with “representing.” I’ve been caught in a *poop*storm combination of two major conflicts and convictions: first, shame for not living to my calling, slacking off, and outright doing wrong, actions against my conscience and the Word. The usual human stuff. Second (definitely a contributing factor to the first), the desire for independence from contributing to the powers at play within the church that drive people away from a loving God. The questioning of whether or not we were even worshipping the same God. The God who declared, through both word and action, inclusion of his Gospel for EVERYONE: Jew, Gentile, man, woman, widow, and orphan on the front end of their faith journey. The one who affirms who we are now, because if he’s powerful enough to raise our Savior from the dead he’s powerful enough to not turn his back on those who are hurting like the people in the church do. The God who has a decorated history of looking after aliens, widows, and orphans (us) FIRST. Before his own family. 

I am called to extend grace. It may sound like I am rejecting people with these words, but it's quite the opposite. If I were to be doing that, there would be no point in posting such a pointed and accusatory blog. I am rejecting actions, not people, because it feels like very few in the church are willing to publicly do so. I will never assume the people whose actions I am repulsed by are less holy than I am. Less accepted by Jesus than I am. Less worthy of love than I am. 

They don’t seem to have any problem telling themselves that, either. 

I am also called to seek truth and speak for those who are too afraid or unable to speak for themselves. The people who are actually persecuted, not those who feel persecuted because they’re forced to wear a mask or their kids couldn’t play sports for a year. 

Talk about a dive into the deep, deep end. Now for some hope.

I AM

“I AM who I AM” (Ex. 3:14, John 8:58) hit me for what seems like the first time on a recent morning, through a new song by JUDAH. The whole album hit me like a truck. After wiping away a few tears I was able to put words to my own ideas. God gives himself the title of “I AM.” His title is not “I AM who THEY are,” or “YOU are ME.” It’s simply “I AM who I AM.” Period. The end. And also the beginning for me, because yet again I realize God is unchanging. I have changed, and I have represented Christ poorly. But thank God that’s not the end. And it never will be. I, personally, can stand before him at the end of my life knowing that God made every human as enough, and every human needs to hear that. 

What’s wrong with living like I’m saved from all the *poop* around me instead of (failing at) attempting to perfectly represent Who is unrepresentable by a normal person?

No one is more visibly joyful than a thankful person. No one is more genuinely charitable than a thankful person. No one is more truly free than a thankful person. 

In the fight to get through this battle I will remain thankful that God is not the (little c) church. God is not the words of the pastor or the preacher. God is not me or my words. God is love and He is I AM. 

I will cling to the hope that my God’s sacred Church is more than a gathering of people with the same nationalistic, abuse-enabling, victim-silencing, like-mindedness. 

I will cling to the hope that my God’s sacred Church is a gathering of quick to listen, slow to speak, loving people. People whose priorities begin with aliens, orphans, and widows. 

Cling with me. May we never feel alone.

~m