Leveling with God

 Lets face it. Sometimes we have to be honest— brutally honest. Like, punch-you-in-the-face, kick-you-in-the-shin, steal-your-wallet-and-throw-it-in-a-river kind of honest. It’s just necessary every now and then. Being nice is fantastic, but it’s overrated, and “nice” never saved anyone’s relationship. Actually, “nice” is probably the number one relationship killer. It’s different from “kind.” You can be kind and still be brutally honest with someone you love, but “nice” is never honest. “Nice” is a bit fat lie. “Nice” turns us into throw rugs, and then we end up resenting the object of our niceness: mom and dad, spouse, best friend, co-worker— as if it’s their fault we never leveled with them.

“Nice” is shallow. It keeps a relationship at the surface, a perpetual first impression. It’s not raw and upsetting and messy, like it should be. We all have raw, upsetting, messy qualities about us, and they’re just as worth sharing as our pretty parts, probably more-so. “Nice” makes us angry. It has it’s place sometimes, like with bosses or people who could kill us, but if one is forced to bring “nice” home after work, it’s a sure way to make them pissed off. It doesn’t let you shed your skin, doesn’t let you love or be loved, doesn’t allow freedom or utility or grace or forgiveness. “Nice” is a clever way to lie to everyone around you about who you really are and how you really feel. “Nice” kills passion, and it puts us in a state of slavery to everyone around us.

So why are we so nice to God?

If I’m being perfectly honest (that’s what this whole thing is about, right?), I’ve found myself resenting God many times before. I lied about it, of course. You’re not supposed to resent God, it’s a HUGE no-no. So I just kept my mouth shut and tried to work it out on my own, but that was the problem to begin with. I’d run into all these things I hated, that hurt me and made me angry and sick to my stomach. But I had stopped doing what the psalmists did and crying out to God, questioning Him, even yelling at Him. Yelling, not in anger at Him, but in desperation for Him, in anger at the lack of Him I saw. Instead of raging and allowing Him to hear me, I kept my mouth shut. And instead of making God like me any better, it only made me angrier. It was “nice,” and it was a lie.

I believe God loves us very thoroughly. I don’t think He only loves us in spite of who we are, but because of who we are, even if who we are is a big fat mess at the moment. We are not divine, and God is well aware of that. But when we try to force divinity in ourselves, we end up lying to God and to our own hearts. Some of the nicest people are the farthest from God, because they refuse to let go of their facade. They lie to their loved ones, they lie to themselves, and they lie to God in prayer.

It’s true that some of the nicer prayers are necessary: “Thank you” and “Thou art holy” and “Thou art good.” But in conjunction with recognizing God’s goodness in our prayers, we must also acknowledge the state of our own hearts. Sometimes it sounds semi-nice: “Forgive me” and “I love you.” Other times it might be something like “I’m so #@$%*!& angry!” “I’m lost.” “I’m addicted.” “I don’t understand” or “I don’t care.” If we are angry, we must invite God into our anger, as uncomfortable as that may sound. If we are helpless, we must invite God into our helplessness and allow the Creator’s strength to be perfected in our weakness. If we are bitter, we must invite Him into our bitterness, even if our bitterness is toward God Himself. Because no relationship is saved by “nice.” Relationships are destroyed by the failure to level with one another. Just as we trust our loved ones do not love us because they think we are perfect, we must have faith that God loves us for an entirely different set of reasons as well. Not because we are perfect, but because God is love.

I think many of us would find ourselves at the beginning of healing if we would all learn to level with God. Let us be a church of ragamuffins and misfits once again. Let us allow honest passion back into our lives, even at the expense of harmony and white picket fences, even at the risk of scandal. Let us not treat God like He can be fooled and not treat each other like strangers, but instead like family. Honesty is neglected in favor of happiness and harmony too often, in our churches, our families, and our personal lives. I’m trying to make that change in myself, and I pray we all make the same change, for the sake of ourselves and our relationships with God and others.

Sarah out.

Sweetness on Fire

You are…

Some incredible beam of light that blinds people,

And then makes them laugh.

You are…

Quiet in your judgment,

And LOUD in your poignant, individual care.

You are flattering,

And you make me nervous.

Above all, you are…

The most beautiful and reassuring thing I know,

And unsettling beyond words.

You are warm and tender.

Loud, and crazy.

I simply don’t know what to do

With sweetness on fire, the flames waving wildly so that they startle, beckon, and make one want to dance.

You can’t be tamed. You can’t be tamed.

And so I stand and watch until you pass by me and light some other part of the world.

Sarah Sanders '11

Let A Little of Your Human Show

Today I found myself sitting in the bathroom with the fan on and the door locked, quietly sobbing. It was a bad day. I spent most of it locked in my head, wondering, worrying, making horrible predictions about the future. I spent quite a bit of time trapping loved ones in these precious little boxes of self-pity, built entirely out of meaningless instances I have taken out of context in order to prove that they really don’t love me at all like they say they do. I was locked in my head— swimming about, sifting through stressors and insecurities and anger and fear until I felt the only possible solution was to break a whole lot of stuff. Lamps, mirrors, kitchen chairs— whatever I could get my hands on, really. But being the good passive aggressive Christian that I am, I didn’t destroy my parents’ house. Instead, I locked myself in the bathroom and cried (after angrily hitting a ruler against a suitcase many times).

It’s been one of those years, you know? Followed by one of those months, and then one of those weeks, and then… apparently, one of those days. The most frustrating thing about it was that I couldn’t pin-point exactly what made me want to grab the next person I saw by the ears and shake them until I passed out. I suppose I could blame it on whatever it was that triggered it. Probably something I saw on Facebook, or my stupid tank top, how the sleeve kept on falling down over my shoulder (I hate that!). But really, it was so much more. It was one of those moments where the world comes crashing down: that shadowy, imaginary world where you’ve got everything that has ever worried you, angered you, or caused you or your family pain under control. There it all is, laid out in nice concentric circles so you can see it all at the same time and assure yourself you’ve got this. Then those nice little circles turn into razor sharp ninja throwing stars, and they come racing toward you all at the same time and you freak. out.

That is what happened to me today. I know, I know. I really should have been dealing with that shadowy world a long time ago. I know that it’s partly my fault. I’ve sort of bought into this lie that I have to be ok all the time, which doesn’t mean that I am ok all the time, just that I pretend to be. I really don’t do enough crying in the bathroom, that’s what it is. I don’t do enough crying on friends’ shoulders, either (probably because they don’t love me at all like they say they do). It’s taken me a long time to learn how to take care of myself, and still, it is usually one step forward, two steps back. Until someone who loves me (truly, I’m so lucky to have as many people who love me as I do) grabs me by the shoulders and tells me to quit being a martyr before I lose my mind (or destroy someone’s house).

I think most of us have played the martyr at one point or another. Bottle it up, shove it way deep down inside— “I can handle this”— until the lid blows off from all the pressure and we club someone to death with the nearest tree branch. Some people go most of their lives keeping it all shoved away. Me, well, I made it ‘til today. I’m sure I could have found some other corner of my mind to shove all those skeletons into. Or I could have kept hitting that suitcase until it was just four wheels and some zippers. But instead I went into the bathroom and cried. And then I took a drive, and I screamed, several times, at the top of my lungs. And then I laughed.

I might have to do it again tomorrow. I’ll probably have to do something similar to it many, many times throughout my life. Hopefully I’ll quit making those boxes and I’ll cry into someone’s arms, instead of the bathroom mirror. The cobwebs have not all been cleared away yet, but I think I made the right decision, for once. And I’m feeling a little bit better.

The choice is not simply between destroying ourselves or destroying others. I believe we can decide against destruction altogether, as long as we're willing to let a little of our human show.

Dear (Our Names Here): Stop being a martyr and go scream at something. 

Sincerely, Your Increasingly Fragile Psyche.

At last: a considerable reaction, of any kind, to yet another casualty of war.

I copied all of my friends' Facebook statuses over these past few days concerning the death of Osama Bin Laden, because I wanted to gauge the reaction of those in my social network. I thought the variety of responses was interesting, and surely most of these perspectives are worth looking at and considering. I think it's important to understand the general reaction of our country, the Church, and our loved ones- it says a lot about us. How did you FB friends react to the news? What do our reactions say about our character/values/priorities?

As Mother Teresa said, "If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other." What a tragic state of humanity that the death of any person would elicit joy and celebration.

big deal osama bin laden is dead. its not goin to end the war. it brings a small piece of justice but other than that its not a big deal at all.

Glad America can put this to rest. :)

Don't rejoice when your enemies fall; don't be happy when they stumble. [Proverbs 24:17]

Jesus loves Osama Bin Laden.

The Crucifixion = redemptive violence–– right? With all this celebrating you would think so. I don't post prayers on facebook often––actually ever––but Father please teach us, through the open body of your Son, what it means to be hospitable.

"As surely as I live, declares the Sovereign LORD, I take no pleasure in the death of the wicked, but rather that they turn from their ways and live." - Ezekiel 33:11.

LOL I hope none of you Osama celebrators are pro life. LOL @ ur hypocrisy.

Let us not forget our humanity, though he may have forgotten his. Evil is not extinguished through death and celebrated hatred.

God bless America. It doesn't matter if one man is dead. This one man was responsible for 3000 innocent us civilians deaths. Our troops will continue to fight and this night shows us what were fighting for.

It's a great day for our country! President Obama's speech was clearly heartfelt and brilliant!

I am getting off facebook for the a good amount of time because I'm tired of everyone justifying hate and murder and war with a flag and a cross. Excuse me, but that's disgusting. Damn America, you've let me down. Again.

“Man must evolve for all human conflict a method which rejects revenge, aggression and retaliation. The foundation of such a method is love." - Martin Luther King Jr.

good riddance Osama Bin Laden, your cowardice and inhumanity will follow your name through the rest of history.

Call me a skeptic, but I'd like proof that Osama Bin Laden is dead.

I would love to drag his body through the streets of New York behind my horse. You know who I mean

Bin Laden has been killed. How do we feel about this? Hey wait a second...my Bible says: Psalm 10:12-18, Exudus 20:13, and 1 John 3:15; contrasting ideas in the same book! Eeek. It's very easy to comment on this event when we sit huddled safe in the US. How would our perspective shift if we did not have the luxury of talking about war in a classroom? but rather had to live in its brutality everyday? Food for thought.

It's so sad to me how fast we fall into celebration for the death of a person. What happened to the love and peace that Jesus showed us through his life?

Finding truth in God's Word. Ezekiel 18:23. He takes no pleasure in the death of the wicked. Praying for peace. Night all.

"I will mourn the loss of thousands of precious lives, but I will not rejoice in the death of one, not even an enemy." MLK Jr.

Am I reading a different Bible? Are we supposed to be gleeful about taking a life; no matter whose life it is? Aren't conservative Evangelicals supposed to be pro-life?

It disturbs me how everyone and their mother is putting *like* to posts about a person's death. Not sure that death ever deserves a *like*..... no matter who it was.

Lets be clear!! Obama did not or initiate the assassanation of Osama Bidladin, a American Soldier that volunteer's to protect you and I and the Freedoms in which America stands for and that Obama wanted to freeze the pay of did!! God bless the USA wich was found under Him!!

I Look Down to Find Myself in Ruins

I.

I used to know you like I know the feeling of Nevada’s cold, crisp air on my face.

I knew the feel of your hand brushing my cheek before it landed.

I knew the color of your eyes and the sound of your voice.

You were all wrapped up in the curve of the hills and the jagged edges of the mountains. The blue and white snow-capped peaks reflected your smiling gaze.

The quiet of the desert reverberated with your gentle whispers, and I always knew where to find you among the aspens and the sagebrush.

You were never far away from me,

And we were very much in love.

These days I feel war torn, reeling from some great shock that dropped in between us when I least expected it. I might have been retreating all this time, running backwards away from the smoke cloud, but I have not known it until now.

II.

I wake up, and I am in a strange place that I don’t know.

Far off, I can hear the sounds of some painful memory, but now I am alone, and not a soul is in sight.

All around me is dust and ash

And my hands are outstretched, as if to say “No.”

I remember the quiet moments that I spent with you, the tender words that you spoke to me in what seems like another life. But I don’t know where to find you now. I don’t know where I am.

III.

I’m trying to reconcile this mushroom cloud and these shrapnel wounds with a life that I once knew was real… but it doesn’t seem real to me anymore.

The color blue, is that a story I heard once? Or perhaps it existed, long ago.

Every now and then I think I hear your voice, calling to me through this smoke.

But I grow ashamed,

And I am scared to walk into the darkness to find you.

The wind brings the smell of fresh-cut grass, or sagebrush after a storm, but only for a moment and it makes me want to cry.

I know home is close, but I don’t know how to get there.

I’m scared to follow your voice, that it will take me too far from this awful place. I’m scared to remember how I got here.

IV.

Lately I’ve been walking to and fro, just where the shadows meet each other and shield me from a place that lies beyond them.

I can see them, living over there. I hear them laughing and imagine them with you.

I comfort myself by looking down my nose at them from over here.

Silly, enchanted fools. They know nothing of this terrible place.

Yet I begin to wonder.

I do not know if it is this life or the other that is really real.

I don’t know how to tell if I am flesh or shadow.

V.

Do you remember when you told me that anything is possible? I don’t believe it anymore. I want to.

Please come find me.