Because You Are So Loved
"How much do you wanna know?" I'm huddled in the couch corner, hoping no one comes down the stairs yet because for these fifteen minutes I want to have a private conversation, however torturous it might turn out.
"Whatever you wanna tell me." Her voice crackles through the phone. She's being gracious; she's probably not sure how much she wants to know. Less than three weeks we've been friends but somehow she caught me in the act of struggling, so now we're in this thing, two sisters in Christ, testing each other's limits, testing Love.
I spill the story of my struggle, the one I said might give her license to hate me, and I brace myself. Less than three weeks might be all I got of her friendship after this...
"Why would I be liable to hate you for that?"
I let my breath go. "Because that's what happens in the Church."
"But it's not supposed to!" She actually laughs out loud at the ridiculousness of it. Then she clarifies what she thinks I said.
My heart sinks. Bad connection. She heard wrong.
"Just tell me again," she coaxes. So I do.
"Is that what you heard?"
"No." She processes momentarily, hardly misses a beat before, "But that doesn't change anything. I don't hate you! I couldn't! Jessi, I see you as a dear sister in Christ! You are so loved, and I--I wanna be kind about how I say this, but--"
Here it comes, the condemnation...
"I feel like you have a hard time accepting that."
That's it? She knows my deepest struggle, and the biggest problem she sees here is not the sin, but the inability to receive love in it?
What if that is the biggest problem, after all?
"You are so loved."
It is one of the biggest clichés in all of Christianity. Its meaning grows dull from overuse. We say we believe it, but do we really? Because when I walk into the service on Sunday morning, or youth group Wednesday night, or any other church function any day of the week, I see a lot of people hiding. And I hide, too. I hide behind my reputation, my smile, my "professional" voice. I hide behind ministry, loving people, listening to problems. Yeah, I'll listen to your deepest darkest secrets, but let you do it for me? Goodness, no! Don't give me any Jesus; just let me try to be Him for you.
The great tragedy of the Church-People is not the sin that we hide--it's the hiding itself. We have lost sight of safe places and vulnerability, because I'm not perfect, and neither are you, but didn't Jesus die so we could look like we are every time we see each other?
No, actually. Shocker, I know.
I heard a sermon preached last night in the fact that Jesus death removes us completely from the equation. When God looks at you, He sees one of two people: Christ or Adam. If you've believed in Jesus Christ, He sees Christ--Righteousness. If you haven't, He sees Adam--sin. There is no, "Hey, I read my Bible, so I'm doin' pretty good!" and there's also no, "Man, I'm struggling so badly, I must not be good enough." If you are in Christ, you have right standing with God. Period. There's nothing you can do to change it, or make it better, or whatever it is we Church-People try so hard to do.
Somehow, though, in our little works-based masquerade, we have become judgmental, and we have crippled each other. I know because I do it. I do it in front of God. Like, "They didn't spend time in prayer this week, but I did, God, so I can skip my devotions today right? At least I'm better than them." Really, Jessi?
Really?
This is why everyone's so afraid to be vulnerable, because if we take the masks off, we judge each other. No wonder we don't believe we are loved. How could we possibly reverse such a deep-set problem?
Jesus.
Can you tell I love Sunday school answers? Seriously, though, this is it. He did it, y'all. Before we confess to each other, we need to confess to Him that for goodness sake, if all God sees is Adam on me then I need a Savior because I can't be perfect! And guess what? That's what He's looking for! Because HE can! He can be perfect, He can handle your problems, He can be strength in your weakness! Brothers and sisters, we are loved, and not just loved, but infinitely, amazingly, perfectly so!
As we live in that reality, the masks peel off. Vulnerability doesn't seem quite as scary when you know that whatever happens, you are safe and loved. And as the masks come off, we are better able to live as loved people. Not Church-People. Loved-People. See how the cycle continues? We need Jesus to get each other, and we need each other to get Jesus. Church is not about parading manufactured holiness--it's about displaying brokenness redeemed. God gets the glory, not us, and that is good in the deepest sense.
So take down your walls, take a hint from my sister who reminded me that it's not "Judge, and be judged" here. It's "Love...
...because you are so loved."
"Whatever you wanna tell me." Her voice crackles through the phone. She's being gracious; she's probably not sure how much she wants to know. Less than three weeks we've been friends but somehow she caught me in the act of struggling, so now we're in this thing, two sisters in Christ, testing each other's limits, testing Love.
I spill the story of my struggle, the one I said might give her license to hate me, and I brace myself. Less than three weeks might be all I got of her friendship after this...
"Why would I be liable to hate you for that?"
I let my breath go. "Because that's what happens in the Church."
"But it's not supposed to!" She actually laughs out loud at the ridiculousness of it. Then she clarifies what she thinks I said.
My heart sinks. Bad connection. She heard wrong.
"Just tell me again," she coaxes. So I do.
"Is that what you heard?"
"No." She processes momentarily, hardly misses a beat before, "But that doesn't change anything. I don't hate you! I couldn't! Jessi, I see you as a dear sister in Christ! You are so loved, and I--I wanna be kind about how I say this, but--"
Here it comes, the condemnation...
"I feel like you have a hard time accepting that."
That's it? She knows my deepest struggle, and the biggest problem she sees here is not the sin, but the inability to receive love in it?
What if that is the biggest problem, after all?
"You are so loved."
It is one of the biggest clichés in all of Christianity. Its meaning grows dull from overuse. We say we believe it, but do we really? Because when I walk into the service on Sunday morning, or youth group Wednesday night, or any other church function any day of the week, I see a lot of people hiding. And I hide, too. I hide behind my reputation, my smile, my "professional" voice. I hide behind ministry, loving people, listening to problems. Yeah, I'll listen to your deepest darkest secrets, but let you do it for me? Goodness, no! Don't give me any Jesus; just let me try to be Him for you.
The great tragedy of the Church-People is not the sin that we hide--it's the hiding itself. We have lost sight of safe places and vulnerability, because I'm not perfect, and neither are you, but didn't Jesus die so we could look like we are every time we see each other?
No, actually. Shocker, I know.
I heard a sermon preached last night in the fact that Jesus death removes us completely from the equation. When God looks at you, He sees one of two people: Christ or Adam. If you've believed in Jesus Christ, He sees Christ--Righteousness. If you haven't, He sees Adam--sin. There is no, "Hey, I read my Bible, so I'm doin' pretty good!" and there's also no, "Man, I'm struggling so badly, I must not be good enough." If you are in Christ, you have right standing with God. Period. There's nothing you can do to change it, or make it better, or whatever it is we Church-People try so hard to do.
Somehow, though, in our little works-based masquerade, we have become judgmental, and we have crippled each other. I know because I do it. I do it in front of God. Like, "They didn't spend time in prayer this week, but I did, God, so I can skip my devotions today right? At least I'm better than them." Really, Jessi?
Really?
This is why everyone's so afraid to be vulnerable, because if we take the masks off, we judge each other. No wonder we don't believe we are loved. How could we possibly reverse such a deep-set problem?
Jesus.
Can you tell I love Sunday school answers? Seriously, though, this is it. He did it, y'all. Before we confess to each other, we need to confess to Him that for goodness sake, if all God sees is Adam on me then I need a Savior because I can't be perfect! And guess what? That's what He's looking for! Because HE can! He can be perfect, He can handle your problems, He can be strength in your weakness! Brothers and sisters, we are loved, and not just loved, but infinitely, amazingly, perfectly so!
As we live in that reality, the masks peel off. Vulnerability doesn't seem quite as scary when you know that whatever happens, you are safe and loved. And as the masks come off, we are better able to live as loved people. Not Church-People. Loved-People. See how the cycle continues? We need Jesus to get each other, and we need each other to get Jesus. Church is not about parading manufactured holiness--it's about displaying brokenness redeemed. God gets the glory, not us, and that is good in the deepest sense.
So take down your walls, take a hint from my sister who reminded me that it's not "Judge, and be judged" here. It's "Love...
...because you are so loved."
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