Once a year, I go back to what I consider to be my home church, the church where I came up, spiritually. Sometimes, the trip is nostalgic and lovely and fun. Sometimes, it's hard and painful. It is always deeply good.
I was in worship the first night I returned last week, and God hit me with this: I have so thoroughly categorized people, so meticulously put up dividers and labels, and decided what each means, how much I value them, and what is required of me with each group, that I am no longer loving people.
I've known this, in a way. Life in the church has been so hard over the last 2-3 years, I have found myself too exhausted by it all to want to be in church, or small group, or even honestly, Christian friendship. And if discussing it with my husband, I've said, "I don't like people. I don't want to talk to people."
The problem is -- I do like people. I like them a lot. I love them. I am a chatterbox in any line I find myself in. I want to know your story. I want to know where you came from, and why you are the way you are, and I want to see good things happen to you. I want to hug you, and hold your hand, and bring you a fancy coffee drink. My exhaustion has stolen those impulses, but THAT is the true me.
So what happened? My categories happened. My valuations. My pain. My exhaustion. My confusion. All of it happened, and slowly over time, instead of seeing people, I started to see... beliefs I don't agree with. Political parties. Opinions. Others. And my love for people turned into ridicule. A constant stream of judgment and negativity, and invulnerability. Maybe I didn't put it out into the world, but I poisoned myself with it.
I realized this, and I thought... but Jesus, what is the way forward? I'm still exhausted, I am still hurting. I can't just flip a switch.
And then God hit me with the second thing. I have thought my faith is fine because I have such a deep sense of who he is. I feel so firm on Jesus as my resurrected savior, and the meaning of it all -- the incarnation, the death, the resurrection. It's mind-blowing and awesome. But having my mind blown by the idea of a God in flesh is not the same as being in relationship with him. It's not the same as experiencing his grace, and giving it. Man, I can't remember the last time I did that, really.
The way forward is through the grace of Jesus. It's not a path of force. It's a path of surrender. It's one of falling in love with God again, and letting his love spill to others.
Our world is so polarized. One mistake, and you're gone forever. One errant belief, and you're branded. No mercy. No grace. It's us, and them. But I can't live like that anymore. Not that I am condoning unloving attitudes, or policies that I believe are harming people, but... I can't believe that the answer is hatred.
Charles Fox Parham (a dude with a few errant beliefs of his own), wrote that we oughtn't go knocking down other peoples' houses -- the better way is to come alongside of them, build up a better house, and invite them over.
So that's what this next season is, ya'll. I'm gonna build a house. Well, I'm gonna ask Jesus to build a house. And God willing, it will be a house of love. A patient house. An understanding house. An inquisitive house. A house that is slow to anger, and quick to listen. A house where everyone is welcome, even as there are things that are just plain true in the house, and other things that are false. But it will be a house of compassion. A house of healing. A house of laughter. A sturdy house. A house that doesn't live in offense. A kind house. A house of wisdom. An unshakable house.
You are all invited.
