Goofiest blog post title ever, right?
Well, I just thought I’d share this, since it is Good Friday and all. I think I became a real Christian this week.
And when I say “real”, I realized that some people will conjure up an image of Sarah Palin and run screaming. But I’m gonna tell, nothing in that lady’s PR kit says real Christian to me. NOTHING.
Real Christian just means someone willing to accept the Christ-stand-in-for-me story. I’m still a liberal. I still agonize over pro-choice/pro-life. I don’t think it’s wise or safe to take the Bible verbatim, and I still don’t want to live in anyone’s version of a theocracy, not even my own. I still mostly believe in evolution, and I still question the “man from apes” thing, just like I have most of my life.
The thing is, this Christianity thing works for me. Maybe it’s not the only path, maybe it is. I have certainly met people devoutly, intentionally chasing God on other paths who would never consider Christianity. I don’t think God hates them, and well, you know, “Ask and you shall receive.” They’ve gotten their answer or will get it, no doubt, because God doesn’t lie.
This is not an overnight “Jesus saved me” thing, to be frank, Christianese embarrasses the heck out of me and I won’t talk in it. Real spirituality takes time and pain. (I still very much subscribe to the “The Road Less Traveled.”) And for me, LOTS and lots of arguing (with God, just call me Jacob.)
Anyway, this all started last weekend. I did something, intentionally, that I should not have done, a thing I battle with, a recurring thing. So I felt badly, and I just kind of kept it real with God by telling him, this sucks, but it is what it is, and I’ll be going to hell and should just accept it. Not even self-pitying, just realistic, I’ve hit this wall too many times to think it could pass.
But I moved forward by reading some scripture and then I heard it. Kind of like a laugh, like when you think you’ve pissed off a good friend, and they are like, “Dear heart, you could never hurt me.” Not actual words, but a firm, calm reassurance that I’m not going to hell.
That this is just an itty-bitty thing and God can work it out.
That He’s not a fan of my sinning, but He can take it.
So on Sunday I dragged my lazy butt out of bed and went to service, and felt a few things speaking to me. In fact, Saturday and Sunday were days of what I call “remedial” spirituality, where God does things like put flaming billboards in front of you with text like, “I LOVE YOU WILDLY” or “TASTE THE GOODNESS” or something.
Then, on Monday night I went to my new church group (which I am SO digging) and the pastor surprised us by saying he was going to play about an hour of “The Passion of Christ”. Now, I’ve seen this before, but between film school jaded-ness, my loathing of Mel Gibson, and the whole “I don’t know about this stuff” thing, it had pretty much no impact.
But on Monday night, it did. In fact, I was THRILLED that Richie didn’t play all of the scourge scene, because just the beginning was making me queasy. Maybe it was just hormonal, but I really felt something this time when the movie played.
Am I making too much of this? I don’t know, and I don’t care. God is with me, He has been for a long, long time. I’m coming out of a dark patch into a “prayers are being answered, life is beautiful, all is well” area. I’m not sure how long it will last, but I don’t care. Is it my Christianity that has brought me there? I don’t know but I’m sure that my faith has played some part.