A few quotes from Rob Bell’s book, Love Wins, that resonated with me on some level.
“So when people say they don’t believe in hell and they don’t like the word ‘sin,’ my first response is to ask, ‘Have you sat and talked with a family who just found out their child has been molested? Repeatedly? Over a number of years? By a relative?’
Some words are strong for a reason. We need those words to be that intense, loaded, complex, and offensive, because they need to reflect the realities they describe.” (p. 72)
“Often the people most concerned about others going to hell when they die seem less concerned with the hells on earth right now, while the people most concerned with the hells on earth right now seem the least concerned about hell after death.” (p. 79)
“I have sat with many Christian leaders over the years who are burned out, washed up, fried, whose marriages are barely hanging on, whose kids are home while the parents are out at church meetings, who haven’t taken a vacation in forever—all because, like the older brother, they have seen themselves as ‘slaving all these years.’ They believe that they believe the right things and so they’re ‘saved,’ but it hasn’t delivered the full life that it was supposed to, and so they’re bitter. Deep down, they believe God has let them down. Which is often something they can’t share with those around them, because they are the leaders who are supposed to have it all together. And so they quietly suffer, thinking this is the good news.
It is the gospel of the goats,
and it is lethal.
God is not a slave driver.
The good news is better than that.” (p. 181)
Dollhouse image from cutiebeauty.com, House images from hpadesign.com
Whenever I beat myself senseless over my sinfulness and wretchedness, I need to quote this to myself:
For this reason I bow my knees before the Father…so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith; and that you, being rooted and grounded in love, may be able to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ which surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled up to all the fullness of God. —Ephesians 3:14, 17-19
Humans are awful, sinful, wretched people—before God and others. There is truth in “worm theology,” but a Christian cannot stay there. A Christian must move past the idea of being a horrible, terrible person (an idea on which I tend to dwell) and move into the light of God’s grace and forgiveness. Yes, my sin is big but the love of God is so much bigger.
Think of your sin as being the size of a dollhouse. Now think of the magnitude of the bedroom that the dollhouse stays in. That’s pretty big, right? Now, imagine the house that holds the room (and other rooms) that the dollhouse resides in. The house is enormous compared to the size of the dollhouse. The dollhouse dwarfed by the size of the house; it is swallowed up and certainly not a major focal point in the home.
This is a feeble human analogy in how God’s love swallows up our sin. In God’s love, our sin is not a major focal point even though it is there. Just as someone walking into a home would not dwell on a small dollhouse in a large home, so God does not want us to dwell on our sin in comparison to His great love.
Yes, this is what I have learned today, and that’s the verse I have been challenged to memorize.
“Growth in character and changes in behavior occur in a gradual process after a person becomes a Christian. The mistaken belief that a person must “clean up” his or her own life in order to merit God’s presence is not Christianity. This means, though, that the church will be filled with immature and broken people who still have a long way to go emotionally, morally, and spiritually. As the saying has it: ‘The church is a hospital for sinners, not a museum for saints.'” —Tim Keller, “The Church is Responsible for So Much Injustice” from The Reason for God, p. 55
This quote really spoke to me when I read it. It was one of those quotes in which I sat back and thought, Wow. This is revolutionary. This is why Redeemer Presbyterian in New York City has been so successful. This statement is virtually contrary to what I experienced when I became a born-again Christian.
I entered Christian fundamentalism at 16. One of the key things stressed upon my conversion was repentance. I needed to immediately turn away from my sins and turn to God.
And I think this is one of the key things about Christianity that keeps many people away: not only do they not see a need to turn away from their sins, but even if they did, fundamental Christians capitalize on emotional momentum and force them to “make a decision.”
What I like about what Mr. Keller says here is that full repentance—turning away from sin and to God—is a gradual process. Is it a requirement to be sorry for one’s sins and living in disobedience against God upon conversion? Absolutely. But to expect instantaneous change from a new believer is wrong. If instant change happens, that’s nice but no expectation of immediate change should be placed upon the new believer (which is something that happens all too often). The new believer should be discipled and bathed in the words of the Bible to be able to come to an understanding on his or her own of what God requires. Out of that understanding, through God’s love, and the leading of the Holy Spirit, will a new believer be able to gain ground to turn away from sin. While mature believers should counsel younger ones in the faith in love and according to Scripture, no one likes to be told what to do from someone with a smug and judgmental attitude.
Overall, Mr. Keller’s chapter on “The Church is Responsible for So Much Injustice” in The Reason for God gives great insight into why Christians seem to suffer from gross moral failings opposed to their irreligious counterparts. (A trend I’ve noticed but have always wondered about.)
I don’t talk much about my short stint in Independent Fundamental Baptist (IFB) Land but the scars are still there. So much that I feel compelled to write a book (fiction) about it. I don’t know if there’s a Christian publisher out there crazy enough to publish it but I see it as a story that needs to be told. (I like to think Matthew Paul Turner‘s publisher might be a good place to start…)
For the first 16 years of my life, I grew up Roman Catholic. I went to Catholic schools throughout my entire primary and secondary education. I was baptized into the Catholic Church, received communion, and was even confirmed. (My confirmation name was Kateri Tekawitha.)
My uncle and aunt on my dad’s side began attending a church on the border of Queens and Nassau County, Long Island and soon my father began to go to church with them. I later joined my father and was immediately introduced to born-again Christianity. The first time I heard of hellfire and brimstone was the very day that I raised my hand and went forward during the altar call hoping I could avoid eternal damnation. I don’t think I became a “believer” that very day but it was a turning point for me in my Christian spirituality.
As a Catholic, I found that the one thing keeping me from committing suicide was the teaching that if I killed myself, I’d be plunged into an eternal hell. As a born-again Christian, I found the one thing that kept me alive was the teaching that Jesus loved me so much and died in my place to keep me out of hell. Perhaps this is why I gladly left the Roman Catholic Church for a Protestant one. (Although IFB preachers shun the term “Protestant.”)
The main character and protagonist of my novel, Ms. Montez, is based off of me. I’m careful not to make her exactly like me but the similarities are evident and many of the events affecting her and surrounding her are based on my personal experiences.
Ms. Montez is a 16-year-old Hispanic female who suffers from depression and frequently sees suicide as a viable option after struggling with being teased at school, the abandonment of her older brother, and the absence of real-life friends. But just like most people who attempt suicide, Ms. Montez does not want to necessarily die—she wants to be freed from the pain of depression; Ms. Montez is on a quest for inner peace.
When Ms. Montez visits an IFB church that her aunt goes to, she expresses an interest in knowing more about Jesus. She is drawn in and “sold” on born-again Christianity when it sounds as though she is promised freedom from depression, loneliness, and suicide through the cross of Jesus Christ.
There is more to the story but the book goes on to address issues that are common not just in IFB churches but in many Christian churches today: mental health, hypocrisy, greed, gossip, adultery, and legalism. If taken the wrong way, I firmly believe the book could be read as a condemnation on Christian churches, but it is not meant to be so. The book is about a young girl’s struggle to find and maintain a relationship with God in the midst of this messy, broken-down world of sin—the church not excluded. Continue reading “Former IFB still in recovery…”→
I come before You now humbly repenting. I was foolish to think I knew better and that my human ways are wiser than Your divine ways. I echo David’s prayer of Psalm 51:
Be gracious to me, O God, according to Your lovingkindness;
According to the greatness of Your compassion blot out my transgressions.
Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity
And cleanse me from my sin.
For I know my transgressions,
And my sin is ever before me.
Against You, You only, I have sinned
And done what is evil in Your sight,
So that You are justified when You speak
And blameless when You judge.
Behold, I was brought forth in iniquity,
And in sin my mother conceived me.
Behold, You desire truth in the innermost being,
And in the hidden part You will make me know wisdom.
Purify me with hyssop, and I shall be clean;
Wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.
Make me to hear joy and gladness,
Let the bones which You have broken rejoice.
Hide Your face from my sins
And blot out all my iniquities.
Create in me a clean heart, O God,
And renew a steadfast spirit within me.
Do not cast me away from Your presence
And do not take Your Holy Spirit from me.
Restore to me the joy of Your salvation
And sustain me with a willing spirit.
Then I will teach transgressors Your ways,
And sinners will be converted to You.
Deliver me from bloodguiltiness, O God, the God of my salvation;
Then my tongue will joyfully sing of Your righteousness.
O Lord, open my lips,
That my mouth may declare Your praise.
For You do not delight in sacrifice, otherwise I would give it;
You are not pleased with burnt offering.
The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit;
A broken and a contrite heart, O God, You will not despise.
By Your favor do good to Zion;
Build the walls of Jerusalem.
Then You will delight in righteous sacrifices,
In burnt offering and whole burnt offering;
Then young bulls will be offered on Your altar.
Since I wrote an open letter to You, publicly asking questions, again I repent publicly expressing my sorrow and seeing how my limited judgment stilted my view of the work that you’re doing in Haiti.
God, You’ve inspired me. Pastor Mark Driscoll of Mars Hill Church and director of Churches Helping Churches has no idea who I am and probably will never know who I am. But his 32 hours on the ground in Haiti has touched my heart and given me a better perspective. A perspective I should have had but was hasty instead to rush to judgment.
I watched his special sermon to his congregation called 32 Hours: The Church in Haiti and was spiritually brought to my knees. In anger, I accused You of not caring, of not being loving, of not being fair, just, or kind when in fact, You are being more merciful that I could have possibly imagined.
I don’t know how many people watched Driscoll’s sermon; in some ways, I don’t care. But at the beginning of his sermon, he spoke of how he barely knew of Haiti and its people. I then realized that fact was true for many people around the world.
And it is through this tragedy, Lord, that people on a mass scale are FINALLY noticing, caring about, and loving Haiti. It is through this tragedy that You have forced people to come to grips with a country in the Western Hemisphere that is in impoverished in almost every single way. Haiti has received more attention in the past two weeks than it ever has before. I’m still not happy that hundreds of thousands of people had to die but I see now their deaths were not in vain. Though we know not their names, they served a purpose—they gave their lives so others might know about their country. They gave their lives so Brazil, Peru, Spain, France, and China to name a few countries, could lend medical care, provide basic needs, and help rebuild a country that has been broken for too long.
Though they may not all have known You, the hundreds of thousands of people who died gave their lives for Your gospel. Through Driscoll’s video, I realized that churches who overlooked Haiti as a mission field before are now extremely burdened for the souls of those people. Pastors who never knew Haiti existed are now begging their congregations to give generously to a country that can never give back.
And I am forced to say nothing other than “thank You.”
People wiser than I encouraged me to read the Book of Habakkuk and see how Your servant asked You questions then awaited an answer and the judgment to come. You have given me an answer, Lord. And I thank You. Because that answer has shown me what I really knew all along but couldn’t really see—that You are being glorified and magnified.
In a week or so from now, the images of Haiti will fade from most people’s minds, we’ll return to our normal lives, and the burden we feel for the country now may lessen. But you have imprinted Haiti on certain people’s hearts as a result of this and now many people from all sects of Christianity will flood into the country and witness the love of Christ in word and in deed. Some may give their lives as the country is still unstable. But the Haitian people will know of Your love and will know that Your people around the world care for them.
Thank You, Lord, for the forgiveness that You provide through Jesus Christ; thank You that You have been gracious and merciful to me to answer my prayers; and thank You for drawing me closer to You and for reigniting a flame in my heart that was slowly beginning to die and lose hope. Show me how I can be of help to a hurting country and a hurting people. Please, God, never ever let me lose sight of the work that You’ve done in my heart and the work that You’re doing in Haiti.
And, while I’m at it, thanks for making me Haitian.
Merci pour tout bagai ou b’am mwen, bon Dieu.
Love,
Me
I don’t know if this will work but I’ve embedded Pastor Driscoll’s video on Haiti below. If it doesn’t work, feel free to see itEmbedding doesn’t work. See it here. It’s on YouTube now so I’m able to embed it. It’s over an hour long but it’s the best hour I’ve spent in a long time. I’d encourage anyone—Christian or not—to watch it.
A friend I have went to NYC recently and met up with a few friends. She explored the city, took lots of pictures, and seemed to have a blast.
Then I found myself thinking, “Why don’t I still live there, Lord? Why am I not there?”
Of all things, I wasn’t jealous because she was spending time with people she cared about nor was I jealous that she had a good time.
I was upset not because she was in New York but because I wasn’t.
How pathetic is that?
In recent months, I’ve been struggling with the issue of identity:
“Who am I?”
“Yes, I’m a Christian and need to find my identity in Jesus but what does that mean? It sounds so theoretical and abstract.”
“What does it mean to be Black in America?”
“Does race matter?”
I thought I’d let the New York thing go. It was a big struggle when I moved to Kentucky considering how much I hated Kentucky but I’ve been content in Philadelphia. So why do pictures of Manhattan and Brooklyn get me nostalgic for the days of going to NYU and attending my old church in the quaint section of Brooklyn Heights? Why? Would I trade what I have now (a husband who loves and cares for me) for what I had back then (single, depressed, no one)?
I’m a fool so I struggle with this.
I suppose what makes things harder is that the prospect of living in New York ever again is about as likely as the prospect of living in Kentucky again. Zero. I never loved Kentucky, I never grew up in Kentucky, Kentucky was never my home.
Sara Groves talks about “Painting Pictures of Egypt” and “leaving out what it lacked.” Perhaps I’m doing that with New York. When I think of living at NYU, I don’t think of the time I wandered dark alleyways at 2 or 3 am in the morning, hoping I’d get raped or murdered. I don’t think of how I frequently walked the Manhattan streets alone and lonely, eyeing couples and friends with jealousy because I possessed neither of those things. I simply think of the exhilarating feeling I’d get when I walked to class near Washington Square in the winter while flurries dropped just because I lived in New York.
I got high off of living in Manhattan. I love the city. Sure, it smells like pee but it’s a place I loved to call home.
I’m proud to tell people that I was born in Brooklyn and raised there for the first five years of my life.
I have a love for the Yankees that runs deep. No matter how bad they suck, they’re always World Champs in my heart. (On the contrary, I have a hatred for the Red Sox that runs deep.) 😉
My family, namely my mother and grandmother, live in New York and I miss them all so dearly.
I have friends from middle school that I talk to infrequently but still care about and miss spending time with.
If you asked me which city was the best in the world, I’d tell you New York. I just love that place.
However, I feel terrible because my friend was having a wonderful time visiting places and friends and the main emotion I could muster was jealousy. And like the fool I am, I had no words for her other than “I’m jealous.” Those words started out as a figure of speech but then evolved into actual jealousy. She didn’t warrant that. My sin and identity issues shouldn’t be her problem.
So it’s back to the drawing board yet again. For all my nostalgia, I’m putting my primary identity in the wrong thing. My primary identity is not native New Yorker. My primary identity is Christian. And whenever anything or anyone dethrones Christ; it’s wrong and it’s sin. And I need to repent.
“So when people say they don’t believe in hell and they don’t like the word ‘sin,’ my first response is to ask, ‘Have you sat and talked with a family who just found out their child has been molested? Repeatedly? Over a number of years? By a relative?’
“Often the people most concerned about others going to hell when they die seem less concerned with the hells on earth right now, while the people most concerned with the hells on earth right now seem the least concerned about hell after death.” (p. 79)
“I have sat with many Christian leaders over the years who are burned out, washed up, fried, whose marriages are barely hanging on, whose kids are home while the parents are out at church meetings, who haven’t taken a vacation in forever—all because, like the older brother, they have seen themselves as ‘slaving all these years.’ They believe that they believe the right things and so they’re ‘saved,’ but it hasn’t delivered the full life that it was supposed to, and so they’re bitter. Deep down, they believe God has let them down. Which is often something they can’t share with those around them, because they are the leaders who are supposed to have it all together. And so they quietly suffer, thinking this is the good news.
Dollhouse image from cutiebeauty.com, House images from hpadesign.com
A friend I have went to NYC recently and met up with a few friends. She explored the city, took lots of pictures, and seemed to have a blast.
This Journey Is My Own 