Thursday, August 30, 2018

It's Not Earned

While going through some old files, I found this little blurb I wrote in 2014.

Look at my shoes. These are hand-me-downs from a 13-year-old boy. They used to be
his P.E. shoes, and his mom gave them to me when he grew out of them. My jeans
were bought for me by my old roommate Jane. She loves fashion and she used to
check my outfits before she let me out the door because I can make really bad
choices in clothing. Carol Kelsey gave me this shirt for Christmas a few years ago. I
know it’s too big, but it’s hard for me to get rid of it. Carol died of colon cancer last
summer. Melanie’s mom gave me these earrings. Melanie is an Ecuadorian exchange
student who was here in the spring. Her mom and little sister came up from Ecuador the
last days she was here, so I got to meet them and sort of talk to them in a little Spanish
and a lot of gestures.

Basically, I didn’t earn a single thing I’m wearing. I did not pay a cent. Everything I’m
wearing is a gift.
I guess you wouldn’t know that just by looking at me.

Some friends of mine have told me that I’m a goody two shoes and they’re going to
corrupt me. Others have said I don't seem to make mistakes. It just makes me laugh.
Don’t they know who I am? Don’t they know what I’ve done? But you can’t tell by looking
at me that everything I am inside, everything I have become, is a gift.

The truth is, I’ve really screwed up. I’ve hurt people. I’ve made bad decisions. I’ve hurt
my little brothers and sister, who I used to be responsible for. Sometimes I look at the
way they act and I think, “They do that because of what I did to them.” I’ve planned a
hundred ways to kill one of my older brothers, because I hated him so much.

My head used to be like a circus. There were always several things going on at the
same time in my mind - shame, and fear, and self-loathing. Hatred, guilt, and confusion.
They all just rolled around in there simultaneously and continuously. There was a time
that I strongly considered driving off a cliff in the Van Duzer Corridor with my brother in
the car. And I found that as much as I wanted him to die, I wanted to die more because
I wanted to shut up all the voices in my head.

I was tired of being the weird one. The one that always got left out, because I was too
quiet and looked like white trash and when I did say something, it was weird, because
I hadn't had the opportunity to learn the art of conversation. I was tired of being the one
that held my family together because my dad was too sick and my mom was too crazy.
I couldn’t take the pressure anymore of being the one that took care of everyone else.
I had nothing to give. I didn’t just want to die, I was dead inside.

I think people really misunderstand me when they look at how happy I am and think
I’ve never struggled.
I am happy because I have struggled. I feel so alive because I was so dead. I have
oodles of joy because I lived in complete despair.

It didn’t change overnight. It wasn't like, “Dear Diary, on Monday I almost committed
suicide, on Tuesday I gave my life to Christ, and on Wednesday I suddenly knew how
to carry on a conversation, live with joy and gratitude, make good decisions and have
peace inside my mind.” It was a long process. You know what’s really important about
the process of changing? You can’t do it by yourself. Yes, God can do anything, but
guess what? Christ said the church is His body. He uses us to help one another. You
have to have the support of other Christians. You have to be honest with them, and
spend time with them.

If you want to change, but real change happens when you’re with other Christians,
what would the devil want to make you think?

He would want to cut you off from other Christians. He’ll want you to think all the other
Christians are fakes and hypocrites and bubble-headed morons that you don’t want
to spend time with. Or he’ll want you to think the other Christians are so much better
than you that they could never understand your problems. That you’ll never fit in with
them because you’re so much more messed up.

Okay, you’re not perfect. But neither am I. I still struggle with things that I would very
much like to keep secret, even though I know it’s healthier to talk about them. The
point is, I have changed so much as I keep chasing Christ and getting closer to His
people. I know now that His love is perfect and complete, and the closer I get, the
more His love fills me and completes me and overflows into the lives of everyone I
meet. I want more of that. I want to be filled and to fill others. But it can’t happen if we
keep our distance from each other. It can’t happen if we assume we understand each
other, if we look at each other without realizing that anything good in one another is a
gift from Christ, not something we’ve earned by being extra good. He works opposite
to that. He gives, with no strings attached and for no other reason than that He wants
to give. It’s out of gratitude that we respond to that gift and begin to live differently.
We start to live like we believe we’re loved. When you believe you’re loved, you don’t
want to go to wild parties and get drunk or go too far with the opposite sex or drive
off a cliff. When you believe you’re loved, it changes the way you look at the world,
and yourself.

Do you want that?

You don’t always move straight ahead in your walk with Christ. Sometimes you’ll
wonder if you made any progress at all. Sometimes you’ll get confused, and you’ll
forget that you can’t earn anything from Christ. That’s when it will be extra important
to be with the body of Christ. Being honest with yourself and God and other
Christians is hard. Spending time with Christians gets messy, and there can be
drama, because we’re dealing with humans here. But it can also be the most
fulfilling and rewarding time you’ll ever invest into something. I guess you have
to decide. Is the messiness of real friendship worth it? Is the risk of being honest
worth it? Is it worth it to trade in my mask and charade for the real love and
joy of knowing Christ through His body?

Here is a hint:
It is totally worth it.