Fractured Saints - never beyond mending - a christian blog for the broken ones

Originally posted on my personal blog.

A few weeks ago I mentioned that I try not to talk about politics much because:

1). I’m not educated enough to articulate my views in an intellectual manner, only short sarcastic remarks.

2). I end up getting into shouting matches with the Tea Party folks.

But there is also a third reason why I try not to talk about politics much: too often politics prevail over grace.

In politics it’s not enough to simply explain why your viewpoint and your agenda and your policies are better than the other guy; you have to drag your opponents through the proverbial mud. You have to paint your opponent as not just naive or misguided, but a subscriber to the deadliest ideology since fascism. You have to make people believe a vote for your opponent means a vote to let the bad guys take away your civil rights and human dignity.

And unfortunately, I’ve seen way too many self-described Christians let their politics prevail over speaking words of love and grace. To them, Christianity is no longer about looking after the widows and orphans (James 1:27), but tearing apart liberals, gays, Muslims, etc.

For example, La Shawn Barber. I know I got into some trouble for talking about her before, so I don’t want to say much (plus I’d be a total hypocrite if I tore her apart). But it does disturb me to see some one with such a heart for God use her words not to praise Him and build up others, but to tear apart liberals and anyone else she disagrees with.

Now don’t get me wrong, there are times when we, as Christians, need to speak up against things that go against our values. And there are times when we need to gently correct one another. But the keyword here is gently. As the Bible says, “Preach the Word; be prepared in season and out of season; correct, rebuke and encourage—with great patience and careful instruction.” (2 Timothy 4:2, emphasis mine) It’s so sad that there’s hardly any room for this left in politics.

And, yes, I am just as guilty as Barber. It’s hard for me to say this, but I sometimes use my words to tear people apart instead of building them up. I’ve used my tongue to praise my point of view instead of God. I love being right, even when I’m wrong. And anyone who knows me knows this is an ongoing struggle.

So here’s my question–is there a way to talk about politics in a loving, graceful manner? Can we forget our political affiliations long enough to act like Christians?

I normally don’t like repenting because of two reasons: 1). I hate admitting when I’m wrong, and 2). I have this fear that God will eventually lose His patience.

Even after nearly 10 years of being a Christian, I still don’t have my crap straight. I’ve made progress, of course, but there are still moments when I screw up. And I mean really screw up!

One thing I struggle with is anger. I’m incredibly defensive, so when some one is giving me constructive criticism, that’s when Passive Aggressive Travis comes out. “Well,” I say, “excuse me for not being perfect.” Sometimes I say worse things. Then I realize, “Wait, did I just act like a jerk?”

Not too long ago I was talking with a friend, and he said something I’ve been thinking about ever since: “There’s always room for repentance.” I have trouble believing that because I can’t imagine how God can be that accepting and patient. But then I remember when Jesus told Peter to forgive his brother not seven times, but seventy times seven. So maybe God is always willing to forgive me, no matter how many times I have to repent.

Thank You, Father, for Your mercy and patience.

Jason Boyett recently wrote in his blog that he’s not as religious as he used to be. Don’t worry, he still believes in God, goes to church, and says grace with his family before meals. But the older he gets, the more his doubts increase.

As a kid, I didn’t know to ask a lot of the questions I ask now. As I’ve aged, and as those questions have come up — and not always with satisfactory answers — I’ve seen myself becoming less faithful, less spiritual, less religious.

I hate to admit it, but I know what he means.

When I first became a Christian, I went through the whole “on fire for Jesus” thing. Everything made sense for the first time in my life. I no longer had an excuse to wallow around in my own misery anymore. But as time progressed and questions arouse, I wasn’t as on fire. I still believed in God (and still do, very much), but I suddenly realized that I didn’t have all the answers like I thought I did.

Doubt is a weird thing. Jesus tells us not to doubt, but it’s such a natural reaction that it’s hard not to doubt. If you’re like me, when conflict comes you find yourself asking, “Lord, you’ve been with me up until this time. Where are you now?” Since I started my faith journey as a borderline-charismatic (I say “borderline” because I could never speak in tongues), I was taught that the slightest hint of doubt could ruin me, like when Peter tried to walk on water and almost drowned. Yet elsewhere in the Bible Jesus tells us a mustard seed of faith is enough (and mustard seeds are like specs of dust). So how much faith do I really need?

I once saw a video of highlights from last year’s Christianity 21 conference. During one part they show a clip of Makeesha Fisher saying Christians are “more often than not people of doubt who have beliefs, than people of faith who have moments of doubt.” I’ve been thinking about this a lot, and I think she’s right. We humans have such a limited understanding of everything that it would be arrogant of us to think that we have all the answers. Don’t get me wrong, Truth does exist, and his name is Jesus. But once we start a relationship with Him, we don’t just automatically know everything overnight. Christianity is a journey, full of both smooth spots and potholes just like any other road, but the destination makes it worthwhile.

How do you handle doubt? Do you consider yourself a person of doubt with moments of faith, or a person of faith with moments of doubt?

Last week I finally saw the movie Precious. I thought it was great, even though some parts were really hard to sit through. Mo’nique definitely earned that Oscar!

As I watched Precious, one thought kept going through my head: “I think I know this girl.”

I work at a public library, and some of our patrons are from the “other side of the tracks,” so to speak. I get along well with everyone, but I find myself sometimes silently judging them. “Oh look, another sixteen-year-old with two kids, and neither one have the same father. How stereotypical.” But after watching Precious I wonder if I’ve got it all wrong. What if there’s more going on? What if she’s carrying a dark secret?

Maybe that’s why Jesus says not to judge (Matthew 7:1). I can only see what’s going on on the outside; I don’t know what’s happening behind the scenes (and maybe I don’t want to know).

Do you find yourself silently judging people? Have you every thought there might be more going on than what you see?

I try to avoid discussing eschatology because, to be honest, the subject depresses the heck out of me. It really does. However, with all the earthquakes that have been going on lately, I can’t help but think about Matthew 24:7-8.

Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to be an alarmist. I hate it when Christians run around saying, “OMG, the end is near! Don’t get left behind!” They sound too much like Chicken Little. Having said that, though, there is a chance that the Second Coming will be sooner than we thought, and the Bible does tell us to be prepared. But let me explain what “being prepared” means, based on my understanding of Matthew chapters 24 and 25.

First, I need to stress this point: WE DON’T KNOW WHEN JESUS WILL RETURN. I don’t know why Christians keep trying to calculate the day and time Jesus will return, because He clearly says that only God knows that day and hour. (Matthew 24:36) So please, put your calculators down!

Second, that whole “pre-tribulation rapture” thing? Yeah, I think Tim LaHaye got that wrong:

“For in the days before the flood, people were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, up to the day Noah entered the ark; and they knew nothing about what would happen until the flood came and took them all away. That is how it will be at the coming of the Son of Man. Two men will be in the field; one will be taken and the other left. Two women will be grinding with a hand mill; one will be taken and the other left.” (Verses 38-41)

Correct me if I’m wrong, but it looks like the “two men in the field” part happens after the Son of Man returns.

Third, because we don’t know when Jesus will return, the Bible does tell us to keep watch. (V. 42) If your boss gives you a specific project while s/he is on vacation, and you don’t do it. Do you think the boss will be happy when s/he returns and finds out you didn’t even start the project? I don’t think so.

Which brings me to my fourth point, which is what we should be doing now. In chapter 25 Jesus tells us two parables. The first one, founded in verses 14 through 30, is about a man who gave his servants certain amounts of money before his journey. When he returned and found that the servant with the smallest amount buried the money, he was thrown “into the darkness.”

The second parable is found in verses 31 through 46. In this parable, Jesus describes Judgment Day as separating the goats from the sheep. The sheep are allowed into the Kingdom because they fed the hungry, clothed the naked, visited the prisoner, etc. “What you did for the least of these brothers of mine,” the Lord says, “you did for me.” The goats, on the other had, didn’t do anything, so they are cast off.

So, to wrap it all up, instead of focusing on when it’s going to happen, let’s just continue doing God’s work. I don’t think calculating the end of the world is going to help all the people who are suffering right now.

I originally posted this on my own blog a few weeks ago.

As you know, I am not a big fan of fundamentalism. To me, it’s theological school yard bullying. However, sometimes my hatred of fundamentalism makes me do stupid things, like hurt people.

First, let me start with my definition of fundamentalism. To me, a fundamentalist is some one who thinks that their interpretation of the Bible is the infallible word of God. Folks who believe that they’re always right and if you don’t fit into their cookie-cutter image then you’re a bad person. Those judgmental, holier-than-thou, authoritative, pious, “I’m right, you’re wrong, get used to it” folks. In the words of Barney Frank, trying to have a conversation with them is like arguing with a dining room table. I’d much rather have a conversation, and rethink a lot of the things Christian culture usually takes for granted.

(Of course when I say “a lot of the things Christian culture usually takes for granted,” I am NOT referring to the three biggies that are, to me, the fundamentals and Christianity: the Divinity of Jesus, His atoning death on the Cross, and His resurrection.)

Maybe it’s just my rebellious punk rock nature, but I always like to question things. If I don’t ask questions, how will I know that what I believe is legit? How can I separate what’s really biblical and what’s just a man-made doctrine? With fundamentalism, however, there is no room for questions. Either you accept everything they believe and fit into their little mold, or you’re not a true Christian.

I’m the first to admit that I am not perfect. I know I’m messed up. I know I haven’t gotten it all figured out. I’m still learning, and I’ll always be learning until the day I die. Yeah, I make mistakes along the way, but I keep learning. Don’t make me feel like a piece of crap just because I haven’t gotten it all together.

Having said all that, though, sometimes I falsely accuse people of being fundamentalist nut jobs. Sometimes I get so angry that I say things that are mean, hurtful, and unfair. I’m so defensive that I refuse to let down my guard and really listen to what the other side has to say. Even though I’m always saying both sides should talk to each other, I secretly don’t believe it.

I’ve been hurt by Christians in the past, but that doesn’t make it right for me to attack people. It’s like the bullied becomes the bully, and then the cycle continues. I need to learn how to stop the cycle, listen to the other side, and make peace with others.

Thanks to the so-called “snowpocalypse,” I am once again cooped up inside my house this morning. Last weekend we received about 3 ft. of snow, and today they’re calling up to 18 inches. Usually I love snow, but this is just ridiculous!

But as my mom reminded me this morning, eventually all the snow will melt and it will be spring again. Which is true. I just wish it would arrive sooner.

This reminds me of other storms in my life: emotional storms. Depression storms. Anxiety storms. When these storms come, they never seem to go away. Even when I pray that Jesus would calm these storms, like He did in Matthew 8:26, the storms continue.

Or maybe I’m interpreting things wrong. Maybe instead of ending the storms, Jesus is giving me peace through the storms. Some preachers like to say that all of your troubles will go away once you have Jesus in your life, but that’s not entirely true. Jesus Himself said, “In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” (John 16:33)

Even though the storms seem to last forever, Jesus’ peace reminds us that they won’t.

Monday’s post got me to thinking about my own history with being cynical. I’ll have to admit that when Conan O’Brian said, “Don’t be cynical,” my immediate thought was, “Well, if I can’t be cynical, what am I supposed to do instead?”

For my cynicism is my way of coping with the b.s. of this world. There’s so much craziness going on that if I don’t put up a cynical front I’ll become overwhelmed. Yet after a while, I end up sounding like a crotchety old grump.

So if not cynicism, then what?

I posed this question (partly in just) on Margaret Feinberg’s blog, and in response she wrote this:

What if instead of thinking, “There’s no way he or she will change!”, we began to pray and hope and love and live for something different? What if instead of concluding, “Why bother?”, we began seeing ourselves as the portal to possibility?

I guess it’s like what we talked about with snarkiness: don’t let it be a lifestyle.

Like you, I’ve been keeping up with the latest Haiti relief news. And like you, my heart breaks with each update. As with this writing, it’s estimated that 100,000 may be dead. The natural question to ask is, “What can we do?”

Should we debate why God would allow such a travesty to happen? Don’t get me wrong, it’s normal to wonder why something like this would happen, if God is so loving. But honestly, I don’t think we can fully know God’s will. I think sometimes you just have to admit that stuff happens.

Should we then make fun of Pat Robertson’s claim that the the earthquake happened because they “swore a pact with the devil?” If you follow me on Twitter, you’ll know that I’ve been having a field day poking fun at old Pat. But while people are dying, what good will it do to make fun of some idiot on TV?

So what then? Well, I have a couple of ideas:

1. Give. Mercy Corps, the American Red Cross, and Compassion International, among others, are currently collecting money for disaster relief. I’m sure they will appreciate any amount.

2. Pray. Pray for those who lost their homes and loved ones. Pray for those who are still trapped underneath the rubble. Pray for the relief workers.

In other words, instead of focusing on ourselves, let’s focus on those who are suffering.

Before I begin, from now on I’ll be contributing to Fractured Saints every other week, instead of every week like I have been. So I won’t update next week, but I will the week after that.

I don’t really believe in “New Year’s resolutions.” It’s always some lofty goal that we never meet. For example, a few years ago when I woke up and suddenly realized I was fat, I resolved to lose weight. For the first month I did well; I counted by points like a good Weight Watcher. By April, however, I ditched the point counting and went on a major buffet binge.

That’s not to say that I don’t believe in making goals. I just don’t limit my goals to 12-month periods. Too restricting.

My goals include:

-Lose weight (I try to spin for about 15 minutes every night)
-Write a book (think of it as “Blue Like Jazz” if Donald Miller had mental issues)
-Get married (I’ve been engaged for almost three years, so I think it’s time to get the proverbial ball rolling

But my biggest goal is to, as we Christians say, draw closer to God. If you’re like me, you’re very easily distracted by the things of this world: individualism, materialism, etc. If I’m not careful, I can easily go so wrapped up in that stuff that I nearly forget who I am. So hopefully I can stay focused both this year and every remaining year after that.

So Happy New Year, everyone!