They Weren’t Hypocrites When They Got Here

A common objection to the Gospel of Christ is:

CHURCH IS FULL OF HYPOCRITES.

I wish there were another word, because this one makes me thing of Cockroaches.  Don’t ask me why. It has since I was little.

I digress.

Cockroaches.  I mean, hypocrites.

Yes, the church is full of them.  Because, as with every place you go, your business there is not necessarily about your “business”.  Meaning, say, you are a hiker.  And your dry cleaner is a hiker. When you go into the dry cleaners, he knows you’re there to pick up your pants.  You do business for years without ever finding out that you have the interest in common.  Unless you see him on the trail. Because you aren’t there to discuss your hobbies, you are there to do business.

When you are in church, you are there to worship, God, fellowship with others, be equipped to live out your faith.

Not air your dirty laundry.

We are ordinary human beings, no more able to attain to our ideals, than to leap off the roof and fly.

When someone objects to consorting with people who are not living what they believe, they are rejecting the man in the mirror.

Who does Jesus love more?  The guy who never makes a mistake?  Or the guy who can own his @#$%?  The sinner?  Or the guy who thinks he isn’t one?

The Bible is conclusive.  Jesus came into the world to save sinners.  He died for our sins.  Not our excuses, not our rationalizations,or good reasons.  My children will put me in an early grave telling me the ‘good reasons’ they don’t need to do what I say, the way I say to freaking do it. How God must feel when we do the same to Him?

The church is called the Body of Christ.  The body, at least where I live, is sick.  It’s members are plagued.  Living lives of pain and degradation, while showing up every Sunday and making fashionable, interesting, competitive, Christian chatter.

We’re shaving, showing up, and shmiling.  Sitting the pew.  Dying on the inside.

I’m an oddball.  My business is usually out there.  I’m constitutionally unable to act fine when I’m crumbling. Dealing with stuff head on.    People don’t like that.

2013 sucked. I found out about a lot of hurting people.

A.  Lot.

Not just the messy public ones.

Lots of men.  Who are supposed to be initiators, protectors, leaders.

Lots of kids.  Who we’re supposed to be loving and teaching the way to go.

We didn’t start out as hypocrites, but somewhere along the line, we forgot Jesus, like Billy Joel, preferred the sinners for dinner companions.*

That the prodigal’s dad was waiting for him to come home.  To party.

That the prodigal guy was sick of his sin.  A real hypocrite isn’t.

At our house, we don’t act like it didn’t happen.  If I yelled at Mickey, I yelled.  If I threw a book, I threw it.  If they told me they hated me, I said, “I know, but we’re talking about chores, right now.”

I get the impression that isn’t what’s going on around the community.

Kids are feeling like it’s burdensome and uncool to do what Jesus did.  Act out of love for the Father and others.  All the time.

Hypocrite?  That’s God’s call.

Sinner.  Yeah.*

The fault line is under pressure.  The tremors are coming.

We are about to get shook.

Church.

 

 

 

 

 

 

What To Do About Anger

Like I would know.

Very complex life experiences.

I need a mom to lean on, too.

God didn’t give me that mom.

In His beautiful, holy, grace; he made me that mom.

But I am helpless, hopeless, hurt and hobbling.

I have no good answers.

No timeline.

No authority to speak into the lives of people around me.

Who would listen anyway?

It’s only Maggie.

I can only get out half the thought.

Because I’m trying to condense, I cut out volume.  Miss meaning.

Only a few understand, yet it’s not their situation.

I am empty.

Falling.

Need a word, that isn’t forthcoming.

It’s said, that God trusts us in His silence.

He must be about to speak, because there isn’t anything left of me to go on.

 

 

 

 

 

It Was Bound to Happen

You know.

When you start having serious talks with your kids about sex and relationships, a big clock starts to tick.

The clock that is counting down the moments until someone in their actual real life does something we hope they won’t decide to do.

Yep.  Barber Shop.  Shave.

Several weeks ago, they bellowed,”Mooooom! [Jane] is pregnant.”

Thank you Facebook.

The next day, we were going through their clothes throwing out, storing Summer, reviewing Winter.  You know the drill.

Someone got up the boldness to say, “Do you think [Jane] was pregnant before she got engaged?”

Two pairs of widely innocent sincerely searching eyes, waited to hear my answer.

I was honest.  I told them that had been my first thought, but I’d disregarded it, because it was judgemental and that’s not how I wanted to be.

Then I said, “Look, some of the best people you know were conceived…without deliberate planning.”

Suffice to say, we made a “Short but Jim Dandy List of People We Can’t Imagine the World Without, Who Were Conceived Pre-Ring“.

And when I say short, I mean quite long.  And including our own selves.

We talked about the fact that [Jane] is an adult, though a young one, and responsible for her choices.

The fact that, though we don’t really know each other, we are pro-[Them].  There will be no participation in gossip.

What’s done is done.  Now, we move forward in joy, because a baby is coming.

Overall, I thought the household discussion of this thing, that was entirely none of our business, went well.  They now know that all girls bodies work roughly the same way.  Homeschooling really doesn’t change you into some life form that doesn’t get pregnant the same way as everyone else.  Jesus isn’t a lucky charm that keeps the ordinary biological functions from taking place because you tithe.  Denim jumpers and crew socks with canvas shoes have no contraceptive value.  Don’t believe the hype.

As if they had any chance to labor under such misconceptions.

Excuse the expression .

The questions kept coming.

There are no easy answers anymore.  It’s a good sign.  It means they’re growing up.

Time to go wind the clock.

 

 

 

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