Avoid Them Like the Plague

If you ever paid attention in your English classes and had a teacher who thought he or she would try and be a little clever, you'll recognize from that title that I'm talking about cliches. Those overused expressions we all love to say that have been hanging around so long they've lost their meaning and any real hope of being effective. Cliches, unfortunately, don't just take up residence in the papers of students doomed to get bad grades. If you're someone who has been in church for a large part of your life, especially if you grew up going, you may find that certain Biblical truth has turned into its own spiritual cliche to you. They're those things that become second nature for you--both to hear and to say--especially to people who seem to be going through a bit of a hard time. And over time, it's easy to forget what they really mean. (OK, maybe this doesn't happen to all Christians and I'm overgeneralizing things, but I know it happens to me....so I like to think I'm not the only one. But if I really am the only one, just substitute the following "we's" to "I's" and just think to yourself "wow, I'm glad I'm not as messed up as this girl.)

Like when someone's feeling lonely or unloved and you say something like "Jesus loved you so much and wanted a relationship with you so much that He died for you."

Or when something bad happens to someone or they feel like their life is going in the totally wrong direction and you say something like "God has a plan, and His plan is perfect." (Or if you're feeling theological you throw around a really cool word like sovereign.)

Or when something really bad happens and you pull out some Romans and say, "...God causes all things to work together for good...."

There's nothing wrong with any of those things. They're all true. The last one even comes word for word out of the Bible. The only real problem that I have with any of them is that Christians like to pull them out. A lot. And the more they get pulled out, the more nonchalantly we start to say them. And the more nonchalant shout-outs they get, the more we get used to hearing them. And the more we get used to hearing them, the more our minds meet them with the "yeah, yeah, I know" that we use to respond to things that we're sick of hearing, don't really want to be hearing again, and certainly aren't going to be taking seriously any time soon.

And that's a problem. When we get to a place where we've heard it so much, truth starts to lose its meaning for us. And then truth becomes that proverbial wolf that that little boy kept crying about.

So what are we to do when we wake up one day and find the fact that Jesus loves us isn't really striking us as such a big deal anymore? I think the answer lies in looking back at the whole truth. When we do that, I think we find that there are certain parts of it that get glossed over--or sometimes totally left out--in our rush to put spiritual band-aids on the things that ail us. And we find that there are certain sins that get in the way too.

Let's start with the first one: Jesus loved you so much and wanted a relationship with you so much that He died for you. That's true. And it's awesome. But there's another side to it that people don't like to think about so much: The fact that we're so bad that we need someone to die for us.

Most people, myself really, really included, like to think that they're pretty cool. If I'm being honest, I think I'm pretty awesome. And I would definitely want to be my friend. Nothing against some good old-fashioned confidence, but this kind of thinking can be really dangerous because it can lead us to a little place called pride (and yes, Avett Brothers, I mean like the kind in the Bible that turns you bad). And that pride is what can make this particular truth start to lose its luster. It stops being remarkable that Jesus died for us when we forget that we needed to be died for. We start to think that we're good enough on our own. And suddenly this really big love that we can't understand becomes mundane and simple and we start to take it for granted. Something that is great and more than we could ever need becomes small and not enough.

When we hear Jesus loves you, Jesus loves you, Jesus loves you over and over again, at first we believe it (which is great), then we start to think that maybe we really deserve it. We forget that "the wages of sin is death" and that "Jesus came to save sinners"--not people who weren't in need of saving. And then we start to feel entitled (which is not great).

That's where the second trusty saying comes in. Because when we feel entitled, we start to feel unsatisfied. Our minds take us on a little trip that goes something like this: Jesus loves me, so I must be pretty fabulous. And if Jesus loves me, He must want really good things for me. Fabulous people who Jesus wants good things for should have really fabulous lives filled with all sorts of awesome. So since my life is neither fabulous nor filled with awesome right now, God must have forgotten about me...surely there is something wrong going on here. There are ALL KINDS of problems with that train of thought, but I'll be the first to admit that when I don't think things are going my way and I decide to throw myself a pity party that's pretty much what my brain sounds like (and yes, that's a pretty embarrassing thing to admit).

And when I'm in that place, most of the time I don't get too excited when someone tells me God's plan is perfect. My definition of perfect is a world where I can sleep in every day, read all day long, eat peanut M&Ms and brownies and stuffed crust pizza and never get sick or fat, never experience anything remotely resembling unpleasant, etc. Perfect is happy.

So when people say God's plan is perfect, the word perfect carries all these nice, comfortable connotations. And that's kind of the effect we want when we tell people this because really, most of the time, we just want them to feel better.

But that's dangerous because the truth is that when I'm hurting, or when people I care about are hurting, it's easy for me to stop believing God's plan is perfect because in my mind perfect and hurting don't go together.

The part of the truth that we like to ignore here is that, when you're talking about God's plan, perfect doesn't necessarily mean fun. Perfect doesn't mean easy. Perfect doesn't mean painless. Perfect doesn't mean we'll enjoy it. Or even like it. Perfect is often times hard. Perfect is often times painful. Perfect often times means we won't enjoy it. Or like it.

And that's ok. Because when you get to the third saying, it all starts to make more sense.

Since it's an election year, it's probably a good time to remind people that quotes taken out of context or quotes taken in pieces and parts can be manipulated and used for any purpose, good or evil. That's what happens sometimes with Romans 8:28. We like the part about things working together for good. Good, like perfect, is a happy word in our minds. So we tell people that things will work out for the good because to our flesh that implies that things will get better, the day will get sunnier, and we'll be happy again soon. Sometimes it doesn't matter what the "things" are that we're talking about. We just like to think that if we keep going things will end up good.

But that's wrong too. Just like perfect doesn't mean easy, good doesn't either. It means beneficial, but too often the things that are really beneficial are the things that are challenging. The things that are hard. The things that are painful. The things that we don't enjoy.

The end of that verse says, "...to those who are called according to His purpose." His purpose. Not ours. We have no promise that things will work together for good when we're working towards our own goals, to accomplish our own purposes. When we're seeking His will, His purpose for our lives, ultimately things will work together for the good, which is His will being accomplished and our becoming more like Christ. Not our wills being accomplished and our lives becoming more like the lives we think we should have.

Each of these lessons is a huge lesson I have to keep learning as I am turned real. I'm not nearly as awesome as I like to think. I really need Jesus. Things won't be fun and easy all the time. The more I learn these lessons, the more I find I need to be reminded that Jesus loves me. That God's plan is perfect. And that all things work together for good.

And if the English teacher you thought about at the beginning of this post was any good, that makes you realize that while the Christian life can at times be plagued by cliches, it can also at times be quite ironic.

New Name, Same Me

So I haven't blogged in quite a long time...and I decided it would be nice to do a relaunch of sorts (or basically just change the name of my blog). Originally when I started to blog, I was dedicated to writing about all the things I could do as a single girl and celebrating how great it was. Which was really just my way of ignoring that I was disappointed and hurt over the fact that my life hadn't turned out exactly as I had planned. But I learned that no matter how hard I tried I couldn't make myself super pumped about being single. I learned, however, that God could. I learned that once I let go of the idea I had of how my life was supposed to look, let myself hurt over it, and let God start to show me what His plan for me was, He would make me super pumped about it, even when it was difficult and not fun. And as hard as that was for me to do, it was one of the most beautiful things in my life. In light of that, I thought I would rebrand my blog to reflect more of where I am now, which is learning to be the woman God is calling me to be (and yes, right now a part of that is single....)

As you can see, the new title is Turning Real. It comes from this passage from The Velveteen Rabbit:

“What is REAL?" asked the Velveteen Rabbit one day... "Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?"
"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When [someone] loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real."
"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit.
"Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. "When you are Real you don't mind being hurt."
"Does it happen all at once, like being wound up," he asked, "or bit by bit?"
"It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't often happen to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept.
"Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand... once you are Real you can't become unreal again. It lasts for always.”

This is maybe one of my favorite passages from any book. Real is a thing that is happening to me because Jesus REALLY loves me. And yes, sometimes it hurts. A lot. And it takes a long time. Sometimes I feel like too long. But I can find comfort in the fact that because I'm not turning real alone, because I have Christ with me, I'm not going to break easily. And I can find comfort in the fact that when it's over, I'll be completely different than I was when I started (mind you, it will be more radiant than shabby). And it will last for always.

So from now on, the blog will be focusing on what God is doing in my life--all the pain of it but more importantly all the joy. It will be my journey to something that will last for always. The story of how Jesus is loving me real.