NorthPark Presbyterian Church

Sorry to be a bummer, but just in case you haven’t figured it out by now just a head’s up: the Christian life isn’t a cake walk.

Unfortunately, though that’s not necessarily what some more vocal members of the Christian community at large would have you think.

The evangelists that ask for your money say you’ll be instantly blessed! And anointed! And healed! I’m sorry to say but that tends to be more fiction than fact for most of us who define ourselves as Christians…the majority of us have had a longer journey to healing and peace than instantaneous.

The Christian walk is a complex challenge. Most days I find Christianity and being a Christian raises more questions than it seems to answer.

This makes it frustrating to want to be a Christian since you are not guaranteed an answer or even an explanation, and this can make you want to pull your hair out.

But trust me: the journey (which some days is over the river and through the woods as opposed to traveling from point A to point B) is worth it.

Sure, I’d rather have a direct path to blessings and joy in my life too, however the scenic route to peace and understanding has turned out to be the most beautiful part of the journey.

And though that’s not the way I prefer it, answers come though questions-
Complicated answers like hope, faith, peace usually comes through complicated questions like cancer, wounds and heartache.

And that is hard. HARD. And it keeps us guessing, and wondering and to some degree, frightened.

But keep in mind this: nothing, nothing underscores the joy of finding God. And knowing He is there, through it all.

I agree-the wondering and the waiting, the imperfect life and the struggle aren’t what you imagined this Christian walk to be. Personally, I expected a perfect life with no issues or problems or goodness, at least less wondering.

But knowing, loving, and trusting God is wonderful, far more exquisite than I can inarticulately communicate in words.

And when you know God’s love, you have everything.

And as it turns out, this little insight is only the beginning.

Well, by now you’ve figured a couple of things out:

-You love Christ.
-You are grateful for what He gave up for you.
-You’ve figured out that He takes you as you are, and are thankful for that.
-You are still stunned and cannot quite grasp how much He loves you.

And yet, you’re beginning to think this Christian thing is a bit different than you imagined it; you pictured running through emerald green grass frolicking away from problems and issues while smiling, laughing, and being stress-free!

And instead, you still have a screaming toddler with a runny nose and a bad attitude and feel anything but peaceful.

So, you’ve come to the conclusion: being a Christian is going to be a bit more challenging than you previously thought. And maybe it’s going to take a little work to feel peaceful amidst the chaos that is your daily life.

However, you are coming to the conclusion a little change in your life and lifestyle may not be a bad idea.

In the past, this would have frightened you.

But now you are re-examining what works in your life and what doesn’t, and you have found some issues and attitudes worth giving up, like that constant black cloud of negativity that flavors your day, perhaps. Or maybe you want to give up judging people.
Regardless of what you want to change, you find you still want to change…

Not because you are now a member of the Christian club;
Not because you now have that fish decal on your car,
Not because you now wear a cross on your neck.

You want to change because you realize that this list, these small efforts are little sacrifices, and the least you could do for someone who gave their life for you.

And you begin to smile again, ready to change. And so does He.

Ok, so you’ve decided it’s not such a bad idea to follow Christ.

You’ve also decided that it’s maybe not a public thing either, and that’s ok.

And, you’re willing to start looking for a church. Good for you!
This I know probably feels both overwhelming and a little daunting, so some thoughts as you begin this journey.

A piece of advice-you will want to get into a church where you can come for grace, forgiveness and to be fed the peace only God can give.

A note about churches-

If the idea of church makes you break out in hives, chances are that experience (or set of experiences) or church wasn’t the one for you.

If you think of ‘church’ and are reminded of stiff collars, stiff attitudes, and a minister that you swore spoke dust, chances are it’s time to give another church a try, and just maybe look for one in which you could relate.

Like NorthPark Presbyterian Church. Really it’s a great one to try. Just a hint…

Anyways, hopefully these tips help. But the most important thing to remember is this: it’s about the fit.
It’s about how you feel about a church after attending a time or two-if it feels like home, you are probably in the right place.

Something to keep in mind however:no church is going to be absolutely perfect because the church is the people-full of real, fallible, imperfect, impossible, annoying and loving people.

The church should be like a family-warm, welcoming, and where you feel at ease.
Without, hopefully, all the guilt trips.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about Christianity, what it means to me to be a Christian, so hence this series on how to be a Christian.

And what I’ve thought about is how often Christianity gets a bad rap; how often the loudest, (usually the most obnoxious, but that’s my own personal opinion) most boisterous, and sometimes most negative voices of the Christian community get heard over all the other voices.

And so, in my way, I am writing this series of blog posts to make my voice heard as to what I know to be true about Christians and Christianity.

So often we only hear the judgment of Christians and yet so often we do not hear the kindness, forgiveness and love of Christ within all the Christianity noise and talk. This is not something entirely unique to Christians, but as a Christian, something I feel that needs to be addressed.

It’s ironic, really, that Christians have such a bad rep, a bad rap, and yet the person that we are named after had such a sterling silver reputation; loved everyone. Everyone. Can you imagine loving everyone?

Sure, I agree that we as Christians are not all perfect. Sure, we can be the most dislikable, self-serving and narrow-minded people on the planet. I won’t deny that because it also describes me.

However, I wanted to write this because, just because you label yourself a "Christian" does not mean you have to look a certain way, have to be in love with Christian bands, does not mean you have to act a certain part, as this isn’t what Christianity is about. Christianity is definitely not about acting a part. It’s about being authentic, reaching deep within to find understanding, grace and kindness for others, it’s about following Jesus’ lead on how to love and live life.

Christianity is about love and acceptance. If you do not get anything out of this series besides this, know this: Christ is love. And loves you.

And that is what I hope you get from these: that Christ is about love and acceptance.

Enjoy reading.

Liz

So, you’ve decided to try this Christian thing…that you should maybe check it out, see what it’s all about; learn about God and Jesus and how all of that fits into your life.

First, congrats! Really! One of the best decisions you’ll make in life.

And second a bit of advice:
Just follow his lead.

Another thought: You don’t have to get rid of your tattoos, change your hair color, or dress in suits simply because you are now a “Christian.”

God loves you for who you entirely are: attire, tattoos (questionable or not), green nail polish and big hair.

And He loves all of you; the good parts, the ok parts, even the parts you try and hide from the world at large; those hidden, deep painful hurts that you try to pretend don’t exist.

All of that, he is willing to take on; all of you, he already loves.

All He asks is that you follow and acknowledge that He’s in charge.

That’s it.

You don’t need a makeover, you don’t need to be rich, famous, or even acceptable in the eyes of others (see John the Baptist if you need an example), you don’t need to change who you are or what you wear, you just need to accept that He is in charge.

Here’s a hint: it’s simultaneously one of the hardest and easiest things to do in life.

You don’t have to slap a Christian fish on your car, you don’t have to buy the WWJD bracelets, and you don’t have to adorn your walls or neck with crosses.

But hey! If you want to accessorize and that makes you want to follow God, knock yourself out.

But just a reminder- all you have to do is follow and acknowledge.

For the great peace you receive, just a yes is simple, almost easy, compared to the complex, painful price he paid for you.

All I want for Christmas is a towel warmer.

A towel warmer.

All I want for Christmas this year is to be wrapped in warmth from the moment I roll out of bed to the time I get home, to be escorted and wrapped in glorious heat where ever I go, and not to have to feel the pain of being bitterly cold this time of year.

And, heated floors would be nice.

And, a constant fire in the fireplace would just be heaven.

And a car that warms up in an instant-oh! Wouldn’t that be lovely?

But all of these things-I honestly don’t need them.
I can live life (pretty well, actually) without a towel warmer.

My towel warmer desire strikes me as a reminder that although this is what I think I want, my towel warmer need represents a deeper need to be constantly comfortable, secure and safe.

Not an uncommon desire, I imagine.

However, though all I want for Christmas is a towel warmer, it’s not what I truly want.

What I truly want is to please God, and in some small, minute, fallible human way, is to give back to him just a tiny token of what he’s given me.

So, towel warmer isn’t going to help.

Especially when this towel warmer, something I think I so dearly want, would separate me from people in need, and from the memory of what it’s like to be constantly cold.

I’ve noticed that the more comfortable and cozy I get, the more and more I become isolated and separated from those around me.

If I don’t have to remember what it’s like to have a cold towel, how on earth can I relate to those without coats?

If I am not thankful for the warm shower in the morning, how am I ever going to remember those who shiver in the bitter cold all day?

If I don’t notice my bare feet on the icy tile floors, how will I ever be compassionate for those without heat?

Yeah, all I want for Christmas is a towel warmer.

But what I truly want for Christmas is to remember all of God’s people.

May my Christmas list reflect their needs too.

Can you imagine being poor?

We are all poor in spirit.

Dirt poor.

As in, we’ve got nothing to our name in terms of spiritual wealth.
Poor, as in, can’t afford what’s free.

Yet, we stand, desperate and alone on God’s doorstep, banging and pleading with him to let us in.

We don’t look like your average beggars.

We have coifed hair and good manners. We are wearing designer clothes with unscuffed shoes. We’ve got college degrees, oddly shaped glass paperweights and bronze plaques that shout to everyone that we are a success.

It would be weird to encounter us, begging and banging at a door, on our knees.

Then you look in our eyes…

And it all makes sense.

We are poor on the inside. We have sad, heavy eyes and a damaged conscience.
We long ago left the line between right and wrong as if it were a line in the sand, left with a faint indication of what is true and right.

We want more than this, we beg.

We need peace, we beg.

And then, along comes a door-to-door salesman…and we get sidetracked with the offerings-Power! Status! Wealth! Security!
And we get sidetracked by his wares- A new house! A boat! A shiny car!

And we all of the sudden forget about the knocking, the absolute desperation we felt...

Until the boat begins to rust.
Until the career vanishes into thin air.
Until the new house is filled with old painful memories.
Until the car breaks down.

How many times are we going to have to sit and bang on the door before we realize we can walk right in?

If only life were a fairytale, we moan.

If only things went like they do in the storybooks, we wish.

What we don’t realize is that it is. Life is a fairytale, a story, and an adventure.

It just seldom happens the way it does in a book, that’s all.
But that’s no big deal, right?

Sure, I’d love for things to go according to plan. It would be especially cool if my checklist got checked off in order, without any interference from people or other challenges getting in the way. However, my life being what it is, not so much.
I’m sure this is probably the same for you, too.

We so often forget it’s God’s story to write, not ours. We also forget, as we manage budgets and plan our life down to the very last moments, is that it’s his to write, and his alone.

Which, sometimes means we don’t get our way.

At all.

Sometimes we hear a dreaded ‘no’….Or a ‘not yet’.
And those days aren’t easy by any stretch of the imagination.

The most difficult part about this for me personally, is wanting to skip the boring chapters to get to the interesting ones.
Sigh. Sometimes I wish there was a fast forward button on life to get to the really good parts.

Those fun chapters-you know, the ones where the answer is an exuberant ‘yes!’
The year (or years) of full of good times, good health and full tummies.

However, truth is, we don’t know what twists and turns lie ahead of us. In a way, this notion both thrills us and threatens us. We want to be surprised, but only with good things. We want to be in control, but yet want to run and in God’s arms when bad things happen.

But how good is a story only half told, or finished by another author?
Not so great. Especially when the original author had plot lines, action and adventure that no one could have dreamed of.

So, on the drive to get my coffee this weekend, I saw a group of what I assume was a church group, holding signs and lining several blocks leading up to the coffee house.

‘Abortion Kills Children’, read 10-15 of the signs, some of the children of the group holding these signs. This sign alone was an arresting sight.

However, the most moving thing for me, were 2 or 3 signs, peaking out from behind the main sign:

‘Jesus saves and heals.’

Needless to say, I drove off with coffee and mixed emotions.

Let me clarify-the (assumed) church group that was standing out there wasn’t demeaning, demanding or yelling, or being anything but silent and united about this.

Let me clarify-this post is not about abortion or taking sides on is an unquestionably difficult and emotional issue; this is all about the signs, about what we as ‘church people’ communicate to the world.

The signs, and their seemingly opposite meanings remind me of me, and of being so very, very human.

On the one hand, I think I have it figured out...yes! l’ll tell everyone about how Jesus saves; I will be kind and loving to all. I will forgive my sister and her two dogs that bark too loud; I will forget all the times that my child doesn’t say ‘please’.

Yet on the other hand….
I still point out sins, I still keep a list, and I still don’t forgive my husband for not putting away the dishes. I still condemn others and act as if I am the final judge and jury. I act like my faith is a multiple-choice exam, and constantly keep tabs on who deserves grace and mercy.

So often we do this. Afraid to be too loving or easy going, we think we can pull ourselves up by the bootstraps and handle it all by ourselves, and that we don’t need God; we’ve got our own laws and rules about how things are done. We are not understanding of others, especially when they don’t fit into our precise categories of what it means to be a Christian.

Afraid of being too legalistic, we try and find the forgiving side of ourselves, the state of grace, and so we slide so far to the other extreme that we are wimps about our faith and what we believe.

And back and forth it goes; this constant struggle within us.

Constantly questioning whether to make a list of our sins or letting them go.

We, so overly eager to help what we label as ‘unbelievers’, we try to get ‘them’ (as if ‘them’ is so different than 'we') to see the light, our way, our God, so intensely so, that in the end, we totally lose them in the translation of the love we were trying so inarticulately to show.

Like the group I drove by last weekend, we often try to use sin to expose the light.
I try shame as a way to induce involvement.
We as people try to use the objective, pragmatic part of ourselves to convince someone logically, why they need to follow Christ.

Seldom does this work.

And it shouldn’t. Because Jesus never convinced anyone he was God (in fact, most times, he tried to hide it), because that was not his message.

Shame, fear and guilt were not the main lessons.

His message was love, and he consistently and constantly communicated this, whether he was with Pharisees or prostitutes. And this was his message-

Love.

Wouldn’t it be wise for us to do the same?

We will do a thousand other things before we come to the conclusion of grace.

We will make at least a thousand complaints, a hundred or so odd justifications, we will get mad probably at least a handful of times, but we will do a thousand other things, probably hundreds of different ways, before we arrive at grace.

We treat grace like a toddler treats a suspicious looking green vegetable; we will do anything to avoid it; hide it in milk, drop it on the floor, pretend to eat it, and then when no one is looking, stuff it in our pockets, hoping that no one notices that we are still fuming, still mad and still unforgiving.

Oh, how this doesn’t work. And it only makes the milk taste funny.

What we don’t take time to realize is that grace is the sweet dessert of our faith; it is the lush, juicy peach on a hot summer day, the decadent icebox pie on the porch during sweltering nights.

Why, then, is grace so hard to get to?

It requires, as the definition says, a "generosity of spirit"…, which most days we don’t have. We don’t have, (or don’t want to have, depending upon the issue at hand), "a capacity to tolerate, accommodate or forgive".

I know, forgiveness and grace are so hard. And so wrong, some days, especially when you know that you are right about the information or your position, and you’ve got the facts straight.

Is that what you want on your headstone, "she was always right about the facts"?
Or, do you want to be remembered as having grace and kindness with everyone, regardless of the facts?

You don’t have to arrive at grace. In fact, none of us do.
But I guarantee it will be a far lovelier journey if you do.

During a time in the not so distant past, my younger sister, Susan and I lived together for a short time when she was a Senior in college, and I had just entered the ‘real world’.

Needless to say, this was a great test of my patience level most days.

So, one particular day, a happy day for me, I come home elated, only to find that she had just shattered the last of my beautiful juice glasses.

To say that I was perturbed and annoyed would be the nice, mild, church-y way of saying it.

So you know, a word about these glasses:

These weren’t just any glasses; these were the juice glasses my proud, single self had picked out,
juice glasses that were the perfect shape and weight for my hand.
They were pretty, transparent, pastel colors, with a bit of whimsy like the kind of designs you find in pressed tin ceilings.

And for me, they carried some sort of vague, hazy but heavy expectations and tangible hope with them,
some sense that one day, in the not so distant future, I would have a family and a kitchen of my own and a life that was made up of pancakes and orange juice; all things bright and beautiful.

So, back to the story-She had just shattered these one of a kind, juice glasses of mine.

And I had about had it with her.

At this time, I was also dating Brandon, (now my husband) who got word of what happened with these glasses, and decided to do something about it.

So, Brandon being the wonderful man he is, bought me a new set of beautiful, pastel colored juice glasses.

And in an instant, I felt loved,
I felt moved-
He got me!
He knew me!

He somehow understood that these glasses weren’t just any old glasses; he somehow got that these glasses represented something bigger to me.

So, fast-forward about 4 years.
We are now married, in our new home, moving in, and lo and behold-
my beautiful replacement set of juice glasses are cracking…
Then one I break,
And another Brandon drops,

And here we go again, left again with an incomplete set of beautifully colored juice glasses.

Then we have a baby, and I forget about the glass issue all together.
Most days I even forget to brush my teeth; I am smack in the middle of spit up, baby socks and hormones,
and so what does Brandon get me for Christmas?

Beautifully colored juice glasses. And I weep with delight.

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So, why am I telling you this story?

This story is one of my most touching experiences of LOVE,
one of the fruits of the spirit,
as referenced to in the Bible, in Galatians chapter 5, verses 22 and 23.

And the reason I am sharing this with you is because we are trying to launch a mini series of Fruit of the Spirit on this blog,
and we want your stories and experiences.

Every two weeks, we will be featuring a new fruit of the spirit, and we want your best example of them-the theme this week is love.

So, the game is on!
Get your pencils sharpened, crack open your Bible and start writing about LOVE,
and email me @ fruitots@gmail.com…. and look for your experience to be highlighted in the Conversation!