From Glee to Sorrow to Joy

Earlier today I was talking with a friend, and mentioned something about a mutual acquaintance. It was clear from my friend's response that she is not at all a fan of this person. In fact, it would be safe to say that she holds this person in contempt.

And I felt a little bit of glee.

Because I don't like this person, either. I felt vindicated in my disdain for this other human being; because this friend whom I hold in high regard does not like this other person, suddenly it is excusable for me to be totally anti-that-person. I even went so far as to text another friend, whom I know dislikes the other person as much as I do.

After I hit send, I was struck with shame as I realized how utterly wrong my attitude was.

Does any of this sound familiar?  This is pretty normal human stuff. People rub us the wrong way, and we tend to try to find confirmation from others that we're right in our judgments. So, it is not right, but it is normal.

I spent the rest of the day feeling kind of guilty for my attitude toward this person, which despite weeks of (admittedly half-hearted) attempts to change has remained cold and judgmental; two-faced, at best.

Normally I'm all for confessing sins, moving on, and allowing the Holy Spirit to work in me to want to do better next time. But today I felt the need to let this conviction sink in a little.

As Holy Week reaches its peak, I am reminded of Jesus' agony in the garden as He prayed, sweating blood and begging the Father to provide a way out from what He knew was coming. Knowing there was no other way, and longing for reconciliation with humanity, He took every sin and bore the punishment.


He took on murder, but He also took on contempt and gossip.

It wasn't just the "big" sins that drove him to the cross. It was those "little" ones we don't usually thing much of; those sins we brush off, that break His heart, because they are so far from the image we were supposed to bear; those little sins that drive the wedge all the further between Him and us, because we will not allow ourselves to admit they are worthy of punishment, let alone forgiveness.

Please don't get me wrong here. I do not think we need to spend time sitting around feeling guilty and ashamed over every sin. Heavens, no! We are free from sin and shame!

But!

Let us take this opportunity, these few days, to meditate on the cost of our sin and feel the weight.

Sunday is coming, and with it comes the celebration of lavish grace, but it is only when we allow ourselves to feel the true weight of our sins that we will feel the freedom, joy, and victory of the resurrection.

What my Purity Ring Taught Me

I was sexually abused by an older child at the age of eleven. The details are fuzzy, but they're not important. The important part is that it happened, and although I did not understand what had happened to me, I knew it was wrong and felt ashamed. I kept that secret for a decade before beginning the slow process of telling some friends, and eventually family members.

It's safe to say I was a fairly sexually ignorant kid for a long time. No joke, I was 13 before I learned the meaning of the word "virgin" and that it did not apply only to Mary. By the time I understood what virginity was, mine was gone. Imagine the compounding effect that had on my sense of shame.

So, I kept the secret.

It ate at my insides, but I kept it.

There's no way to predict how childhood sexual abuse will affect any given child. Some children will become hypersexualized and eventually promiscuous. At the other end of the spectrum are those who are terrified of anything even remotely sexual. I fell somewhere in the middle. My play became sexualized - let's just say Barbie and Ken were spending an awful lot of time sans clothing - and as I grew into my teen years I struggled continually with lust. But, I also had a bit of a fear of the opposite sex and would generally fall hard for guys who were way out of my league, while pushing away any guy who showed interest in me.

Then there was my involvement in youth group, at the height of the purity movement. At least a couple times a year we'd get a "purity talk" in youth group, and at the big youth conferences, too. I've got to be clear that this wasn't being forced down my throat; I loved those talks, and I read every book on purity I could get my hands on. The message I got through all of this is that I needed to guard my purity (read: virginity) at all costs. Well, I wasn't a virgin, but they had that covered, too. I could have a spiritual virginity, or something like that.

I had a sincere desire, even at a young age, to please God. So, I took my desire to please God, and I took all the things I heard in youth group and read in these books on purity, and I set strict rules for myself out of fear that I would mess up and tarnish my purity. I made a long list of dating do's and don'ts, and I decided I was not going to kiss anyone until my wedding day, because I couldn't trust myself not to "go too far." Oh, and I started wearing a purity ring - but I think you knew that from the title.

I actually had two different rings when I was in high school. The first one was silver with little gems in the shape of a flower, and the second was just a silver band with "purity" stamped into it. Those aren't important details. What was important about those rings was that I was wearing them because it was what Christian girls did when I was in high school.

At some point, early on in college, I noticed how pretty my friend Lauren's ring was, and decided to get one like hers. This is the important ring. The one God used to teach me a big lesson. The one I cherish.  The ring is called the "gift-wrapped heart." I know from reading the little card that came with the ring that the designer intended it to symbolize a commitment for girls to save their hearts (and virtue) for their husbands. This is a good and noble thing, but it is also something that always felt like a bit of a sham for me, or at least like it wasn't completely possible. Not only was I not a virgin but I also had this intense, out of control struggle with impure thoughts, and I knew what Jesus had to say about that.

One day I was looking at this ring on my finger, and suddenly it dawned on me that maybe this heart wasn't gift-wrapped for my husband. Maybe it was gift-wrapped for me. I began to think about God's mercy and grace, and it was as if the Holy Spirit whispered in my ear "I have given you a new heart." I began to realize that my purity was not something to earn back or keep; I was not born pure. I was born a sinner. I am pure, not because of what I have or have not done, but because Christ has said so.

I won't lie to you. Lust is still a struggle. Shame still creeps in. But, they do not consume me, nor do they define me. I am not ashamed. There is little visible difference in how I practice purity, but the motivation is completely changed. I obey not so that I can be pure, but because I am pure.

Trust and Obey

Last week I wrote about my growing desire to put God first and to want Him more than anything else. Even so, I am a sinful human being, and a product of my generation, steeped in postmodern moral relativism. My gut response is to cringe at the thought of anything resembling a moral absolute. I have a hunch most millennials can relate.  I have a hunch that the chorus of this simple hymn might be offensive to those of my generation who would give it more than a moment's thought:

Trust and obey!
For there's no other way
To be happy in Jesus,
But to trust and obey!

Really? No other way? Can't I just hang out with God and be spiritual?

Nope.

We need to trust and obey.  And I'm just going to throw this out there: it is impossible to have one without the other.

Obedience is the visible fruit of trust. Jesus said that if we love him we will obey him; not just that, but that if we don't obey him, he won't have anything to do with us.

So, yeah, we can't trust God without obeying Him. But, I think it is equally important to note that we can't really obey without trusting. Or, at the very least, our ability to obey is severely limited without trust. In order to obey we need to trust that (a) the orders we are following are, in fact, from God, and that (b) God is, in fact, good and worthy of our trust.  If we're honest with ourselves, that's a challenge for all of us at some point - for some more than others.

I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that we all have sin issues in our lives that we have convinced ourselves are either morally neutral or maybe even good. These could be "big" or "small," but remember that all sin is big; all sin has the end result of separating us from God.

I'll be really real right now. I have a huge problem with food. I wonder how my struggle with overeating would change if I called it what it is - a spiritual problem - and gave it to God. What if I gave over this area of my life, trusted God to provide the food I need, and trusted His grace for the times I falter?  I bet I'd see some changes in my attitude toward food. I bet I'd be a lot happier, too.

Are you up for a challenge?  Ask yourself these two questions:
- Are there any areas in my life where a lack of faith is leading to disobedience?
- If God himself told me this was a sin, would I be willing to give it up?