Among the other issues that I have been mulling over in my life, I have spent a lot of emotional energy as of late wrestling with God. I live my life in Love, I try at least, and for the most part it has done me well, giving me a sense of purpose, a sense of worthiness, an understanding of humanity greater than I ever had before I learned to Love. But the fact of the matter is, even with all of this goody-goody stuff, I have felt very, very alone...as if no one else accepts this view of life nor is willing to understand what it is that I am doing, and why. For many, religion is nothing but an excuse to live life the way that they want to...for Christians, this often means 167 hours a week of debauchery and general meanness towards their fellow man traded off in the end by an hour spent in a hard wooden pew on Sunday morning. Other religions offer the same sorts of excuses, I mean, look at history -- from the beginning to 9/11 and beyond. But I don't subscribe to that way of thinking, I once did, but no more. If you Love, if you honestly believe in God, then that Love should flow out of you non-stop, 24/7/365. But it doesn't.
And I don't understand how people cannot see this hypocrisy in them. They are satisfied with glorifying themselves on Sunday morning, praising a God who gave them the gift of life and standing on a pillar declaring themselves better than the rest of humanity. I do not understand how someone can honestly accept the idea that someone was tortured, killed, burried for them and not feel a single ounce of guilt, instead galloping around through life happy that Jesus died. What is that? If someone took a bullet for me, if someone suffered and died for me so that I might live, I would not be happy about it...I would probably be overcome with guilt to the point of being suicidal. But I go to church on Sunday morning and I look around, even on Easter when the smell of death still lingers in the air, and people are smiling smug little smiles while I sit their silently weeping, trying not to draw attention to myself. They laugh at the sermon, they dance while they sing, they smile as they take communion, not even showing any sign of remourse or guilt. Either they do not really believe what it is that they profess to believe or else they are so egomanical as to be able to accpet guilt-free the idea that they are somehow worthy of having another person die on their behalf. And my tearducts open wider.
I watched Saving Private Ryan a week or so again, and again cried at the end when the old man asked his wife if he had lead a good life, because he realized that he was alive only because of the sacrifice made by other people. He did not stand over those soldiers' graves and celebrate the fact that he was alive still because of them, he did not sing praise songs to glorify the generals that sent them into harm's way and their eventual deaths, he cried, guilt-stricken, to the point of falling on his knees and begging for those around him to tell him that the gift that he was given -- life -- was well-earned.
And that is how I feel about God. I don't know what I believe about the nature of Christ, whether he was God incarnate or just a man that was full of God's Love, but in either case I do believe that he was a real person that suffered and died because he believed in humanity, believed in the power of Love, and was not willing to let go of it in an effort to show the rest of us what Love is all about. He died on our behalf, whether figuratively or actually, and I feel guilt for that, I feel that I must do everything in my power to make up for that sacrifice, earning what was given to me. I cannot accept that sort of freebie without justifying it in my heart, and justification is just so hard when life is just so cruel sometimes. But then I think that maybe that cruelty is the price of justification, the thing I have to go through so that I might earn the gift, the suffering that I must sometimes endure in order to fully understand Love and ultimately come to grips with God.
God is Love, and those that abide in Love abide in God, and God abides in them. Love has been perfected among us in this: that we may have boldness on the day of judgement, because as he is, so are we in this world. There is no fear in Love, but perfect Love casts out fear; for fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not reached perfection in Love. We Love because he first Loved us. Those who say "I love God," and hate their brothers and sisters, are liars; for those who do not love a brother or sister whom they have seen, cannot love God whom they have not seen. 1 John 4:16b-20
And I don't understand how people cannot see this hypocrisy in them. They are satisfied with glorifying themselves on Sunday morning, praising a God who gave them the gift of life and standing on a pillar declaring themselves better than the rest of humanity. I do not understand how someone can honestly accept the idea that someone was tortured, killed, burried for them and not feel a single ounce of guilt, instead galloping around through life happy that Jesus died. What is that? If someone took a bullet for me, if someone suffered and died for me so that I might live, I would not be happy about it...I would probably be overcome with guilt to the point of being suicidal. But I go to church on Sunday morning and I look around, even on Easter when the smell of death still lingers in the air, and people are smiling smug little smiles while I sit their silently weeping, trying not to draw attention to myself. They laugh at the sermon, they dance while they sing, they smile as they take communion, not even showing any sign of remourse or guilt. Either they do not really believe what it is that they profess to believe or else they are so egomanical as to be able to accpet guilt-free the idea that they are somehow worthy of having another person die on their behalf. And my tearducts open wider.
I watched Saving Private Ryan a week or so again, and again cried at the end when the old man asked his wife if he had lead a good life, because he realized that he was alive only because of the sacrifice made by other people. He did not stand over those soldiers' graves and celebrate the fact that he was alive still because of them, he did not sing praise songs to glorify the generals that sent them into harm's way and their eventual deaths, he cried, guilt-stricken, to the point of falling on his knees and begging for those around him to tell him that the gift that he was given -- life -- was well-earned.
And that is how I feel about God. I don't know what I believe about the nature of Christ, whether he was God incarnate or just a man that was full of God's Love, but in either case I do believe that he was a real person that suffered and died because he believed in humanity, believed in the power of Love, and was not willing to let go of it in an effort to show the rest of us what Love is all about. He died on our behalf, whether figuratively or actually, and I feel guilt for that, I feel that I must do everything in my power to make up for that sacrifice, earning what was given to me. I cannot accept that sort of freebie without justifying it in my heart, and justification is just so hard when life is just so cruel sometimes. But then I think that maybe that cruelty is the price of justification, the thing I have to go through so that I might earn the gift, the suffering that I must sometimes endure in order to fully understand Love and ultimately come to grips with God.
God is Love, and those that abide in Love abide in God, and God abides in them. Love has been perfected among us in this: that we may have boldness on the day of judgement, because as he is, so are we in this world. There is no fear in Love, but perfect Love casts out fear; for fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not reached perfection in Love. We Love because he first Loved us. Those who say "I love God," and hate their brothers and sisters, are liars; for those who do not love a brother or sister whom they have seen, cannot love God whom they have not seen. 1 John 4:16b-20
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home