Values: Raw Authenticity

Several months ago, I posted part one on my values. The first value I detailed was Kingdom Family. If you missed it, you can read it here. I have delayed in blogging more about my values because I wanted to be sure that I actually am valuing what I say I value.

I finally decided today, after procrastinating on writing this one for months, I will take the brave step to share my second value. Knowing that, while I already live this one out day to day, once I state that it is a value of mine, I am accountable to it. (Scary at times, eh?!)

Raw Authenticity.

Merriam-Webster defines authentic as:

1. Obsolete

2. a. Worthy of acceptance or belief
b. Conforming to an original so as to reproduce essential features
c. Made or done the same way as an original

3. Not false or imitation: Real, Actual

4. True to one's own personality, spirit, or character
Synonym: Genuine

Webster also gives a synonym discussion of Authentic, and I really like what it says.

authentic, genuine, bona fide mean being actually and exactly what is claimed. authentic implies being fully trustworthy as according with fact ; it can also stress painstaking or faithful imitation of an original . genuine implies actual character not counterfeited, imitated, or adulterated ; it also connotes definite origin from a source . bona fide implies good faith and sincerity of intention .

That value, being authentic, in itself is a huge task that requires deep vulnerability and willingness to be transparent. But when you add raw in front of it, things get intense.

Good ol' Webster says this about raw:

a. Being in the natural state: Not processed or purified. Not diluted or blended.
b. unprepared or imperfectly prepared for use
c. Not being in polished, finished or processed form.
d. Having the surface abraded or chafed
e. lacking covering
f. not protected, susceptible to hurt
g. lacking experience or understanding

When I say that I value Raw Authenticity, I am saying that I value being unfinished, rough, unmasked in the realest real of my heart. To be raw means that you have no protective covering to hide flaws. Not trying to imitate what culture, the church, people tell you that you need to be.
In this state, I am very susceptible to being hurt.
Obviously, I am to use wisdom and not throw my pearls to the pigs, but if I am to walk out raw authenticity, it requires great risk.

Authenticity, rawness, realness, all require risk.

There is no one in the world who is like me. I am the only one who looks like me, thinks like me, processes like me, loves like me.

The Creator gifted me with something beautiful that he wants to share with the world. If I am not my truest, rawest, authentic self, I am causing others to miss out on a side of our very good Father. For me to hide from others is to do an injustice to not only them, but me too.
When I am my truest self, I am more alive.
When I let the walls down and allow myself to be vulnerable and raw, I receive a greater gift. I receive friends. I find that there are others who can relate. I find other real human beings.

The more you cook vegetables, the more nutrients (life) drain from them. The more raw, the more alive.

I want to be raw. I want to be full of life.

God is most glorified when man is fully alive. 

Joyous Suffering

Suffering. 
It's a word that you cannot say while smiling.
It's a word that leaves a bad taste in your mouth.
It's a word that you don't often here in America.
It's a word that you hear even less from Christians in America.
Suffering. 
It's what I have been studying lately.
Suffering. 
Is it a reality for New Covenant Believers?
Is it avoidable?
Is it a sign of righteousness?
Is it proof of humility?
Is it a Biblically sound doctrine?
Does it make you a better Christian?
Does it make you love Jesus more?
Is it worth it?

Who the heck knows?!
Because of all of this and some recent circumstances, I have began to tear apart the Word with the Holy Spirit, my Teacher.

I have shared bits and pieces with a couple good friends and have gotten varying opinions on the subject. Each friend's opinions have been encouraging, However, my friends are not the Holy Spirit. My friends are not perfect. My friends, as well versed and experienced as they may be cannot give me absolute truth on the subject. Only the Holy Spirit, the interpreter of the Word, can give me absolute truth. It doesn't matter how convincing someone's argument one way or another might be; if I am not certain that I have heard from the Lord on a matter and have made the truth my own, when things get rocky, I will sway and stumble.

I sit here tonight sorting through what I know to be true about God, life, His voice, my identity. And right smack dab in the middle of it all is this towering thing that seems to be unaffected by good effort or pleasant thoughts. This thing is the cause of much pain and struggle in my life.

Honestly, I was going to share all of the cool things that I have been discovering in the Word relating to this. All the fun Greek and Hebrew words and meanings that I love so much, along with all the cross references that I have gone back and forth, making this beautiful, complex web between. But at this moment, the only thing I feel pressing to say has nothing to do with all I have "learned" about suffering. It has nothing to do with answering any of the above questions. It has nothing to do with comparing "suffering" in the American Christian culture to the suffering (religious, political, and economical) I have observed all around the globe.

The only thing I feel pressed to say is this:

My "suffering", the hurt, ache, longing, situation, as it is, has led me to one thing... it is an experience I will never be able to have again after I die.
Once I am gone from this life, I will never feel the ache of pain or suffering ever again. I will not cry. I will not mourn, I will not be angry with God ever again.

Suffering is an experience we only get to have on this side of eternity as believers. 

I take courage and joy in that fact.

Not joy because there will be no more suffering (while that is something to be joyous about).
I take joy because this is an experience, a emotion, that the Father has created me to be able to experience here and now. Jesus felt it. God feels it. God suffers in deep emotional pain daily as He sees His children live their lives outside of Love.
God created me to be able to experience this deep emotion with Him. If He feels it, I want to feel it too.
I want to sit with the Father in the weeping room.
I want to tarry with Him in the hours of darkness, realizing that even in the darkest dark, He is the brightest light.

If He didn't think suffering was worth it, He wouldn't have created our hearts with the ability to feel this emotion.
There is a part of my suffering that the Father is glorying in. No, He is glorying in my suffering.
And I wear the crown of one who suffers well.

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Dancing Among the Wildflowers: The Beginning

I started writing this a couple months ago. I am now stuck. I do not know how this story ends. I could easily make up a pretty little ending, but truth be told, I have no idea what happens next because I am still in the middle of the story. With my own personal life - I don't know how this story ends. However, I am choosing to vulnerably post the unfinished story, with hopes that I will soon be able to return with an ending. For now, I am content with where I am in this process. There is grace for my process.
Jewel loves wild flowers. She loves picking beautiful bouquets and placing the perfect crown of flowers on her head. Spring fills the fields with her favorite flowers, summer ushers in even more.One day, while Jewel was out picking pretty flowers for her kitchen window, something horrible happened! Under the brush, hiding in the shadows, was a snake. Jewel, not knowing a snake was hiding, reached to pick the prettiest flower she had seen all day and was suddenly bitten by the cruel snake! "OUCH!!" Jewel cried as she dropped all the lovely flowers she was holding and fell back into a thorny rose bush. She cradled her injured hand. The snake hissed and slithered back in to his home under the flower bush. Jewel gathered up the scattered flowers, picked the prickly thorns out of her skin, and sobbed all the way back to her quaint little cabin in the middle of the flower field. Once home, Jewel bandaged her wounded hand. As the night carried on and her little hand continued to hurt badly, Jewel vowed she would never let that happen to her again. She began to build a big, thick wall around her cabin to keep snakes and other harmful things out. She wanted to be certain that she was protected so she never experienced that terrible pain again. So she builds. Before long, her wall became a tower around her little cabin, blocking out all sunlight. Her flowers began to die for lack of sunshine, but Jewel didn't mind because at least she knew she was safe from all snakes and danger. Spring ushers in summer, which soon passes to fall and finally winter. The last bouquet of flowers had long withered and died due to passed time and neglect. Jewel didn't even take time to hang and dry them to preserve their beauty. She instead vowed to never enjoy the fragrance of fresh picked flowers for fear of the venomous, painful bite of snakes. Inside her wall she sat, safely away from the risk of pain that comes with rosebushes and wildflower fields.
How could something she loved and treasured so much hurt her? She was wounded because of her love.
To Jewel, this translated to "love hurts" and "love isn't worth the risk". She continued to hide from love.
Eventually, the seasons turned, the snow and clouds of a harsh winter yielded to the fresh fragrance and lightness of spring and someone came knocking on Jewel's door. The sudden knocking startled jewel. She was unsure what to make of the surprise visit. Timidly and cautiously, she approached the door. The sound of her voice saying, "Who is it?" startled her even more, for she had not heard her own self speak in nearly a year. It's a wonder she even knew how to anymore. The stranger was a traveler passing through. He needed a place to stay for the night and wondered if he could set up camp in her field. Jewel consented to his request, but with a bitter tone, she warned him of the dangers of the field. The stranger didn't seem to be worried. He graciously and genuinely thanked her for her hospitality and assured her he would be of no trouble. The next day, brought about torrential rain showers, so heavy that the traveler decided to not set out on his journey. The sudden downpour caused a tree to fall. It fell right on top of Jewel's wall! Jewel shrieked at the loud crash and shatter of the tree crushing part of her precious wall of safety. She had no idea how she would ever be able to move the tree and rebuild her wall before snakes and thorns took over her safe sanctuary.The stranger, noticing her frantic anxiety, rushed to her side. He assured her that he would stay a few more days before setting out again to help her remove the tree from her wall. "Besides," he added, “The trails are much too wet and muddy for me to begin my journey today anyway." Jewel was relieved, but still fearful. The next morning, the sun broke through the clouds and peaked through her curtains. (This was odd because the sun had so long been shielded from view due to the wall surrounding her cabin.) Jewel sleepily stretched as she climbed out of bed. She heard an unfamiliar noise coming from outside, the sound of an axe chopping away at wood, and she remembered the horrible event of the prior day. She quickly got dressed and went outside to assist the stranger in the daunting chore that lay ahead.
As they worked together to cut up the fallen tree, the stranger made small talk. He commented on the beautiful spring weather, the delightful scents of spring flowers, and the refreshing breeze that blew across their faces. Jewel grew more and more bitter at his joy over spring flowers and nature. She grew quiet and solemn as he chatted away. The stranger didn't seem to notice or mind. He seemed content to carry on joyously detailing his love for spring. Eventually, Jewel couldn't stand it anymore "Enough!" she shouted. "I can't take it anymore!" "Stop with the spring-time celebration! Don't you know that it's not safe or smart to love something so much?”Startled, the stranger stepped back. He apologized for his oblivion to her solemnity over spring and got really quiet himself. In silence, they worked for the next hour. The only sounds to be heard were that of the songbirds and the breeze rustling the leaves in the trees and blowing softly through the grass.
Finally, the stranger worked up the courage to ask the question that was looming in the air. "What caused your disdain for spring and flowers?"
Angrily, Jewel stated, "Not that it’s your business, but if you must know…it's just not smart to love something so much. Thorns hurt. Snakes are good hiders, waiting to strike an innocent passerby."
The stranger gently asked, "Is that what happened to you? Is that why you built this wall?"
Annoyed by his sudden persistent interest in her personal life, Jewel retorted, "Yes."
The two grew quiet again and continued to work on the fallen tree.

Chaotically clean

Today I cleaned my room... my already clean room. My room that, besides a load of laundry that needed to be hung, was already clean. Why would I spend just shy of 8 hours cleaning an already clean room you ask? Who knows. Maybe the Lord knew that I would blog about cleaning my room before I knew I was going to clean my already clean room. I lay here in bed processing what I did today and I laugh at myself. I should have taken pictures. My room went from clean and mostly organized to a hard hat zone in which the floor and the bed could not be seen. I was falling over piles and piles of things (I didn't even know that I could fit so much chaos so neatly away!!) My little puppy, Stella, was having the time of her life climbing mountains of clothes, blankets, boxes, and more. And I got intensely overwhelmed somewhere in the middle. I looked around at all the chaos that once was so neatly organized and out of sight and panicked! I had no idea where to begin in the disaster zone I had created. I had no clue how I would get everything put back neatly. (Kinda like when you are trying to pack to return home after vacation and you aren't sure how everything fit in the first time...)

I sat down on the floor somewhere in the middle of all the chaos being brought back peacefully together and looked around and laughed. "Lord, what are you saying in this?"

My life was neat and clean. Everything was in place. I was the perfect christian. I led Bible studies. I mentored youth. I was at church every time the doors were opened. I didn't drink, cuss, smoke, or sleep around. Everything in my life made sense. Everything looked really, really nice. My room was clean.

Then I moved to the woods. Then I moved to Kansas City. Then I cleaned my room.

Here I am, surrounded by chaos. My life doesn't make sense. There is wreckage everywhere. Broken pieces, mud, dirt, chaos. I don't even know where most of it is coming from- my life was so clean before. I am overwhelmed at the chaos and wish I hadn't even started cleaning, reorganizing, rearranging. I don't know what to do about all the chaos that has exploded everywhere. I cry on a daily basis. Not just a couple tears, but a sobbing on the floor, freak my roommate out and make my puppy fear the worst, cry. Today, my roommate stopped what she was doing and brought her sobbing, snotting, heap on the hardwood floor housemate tissues and English tea. (Hot tea makes everything better.) I am a wreck. I had no idea all this chaos was inside, it was so neatly stacked away. Now it is every where. Being pushed around and tripped over. I've exploded.

But here I lay, almost exactly 12 hours after it all began, and my room is back in order. Did I get rid of anything? A walmart bag full of paper trash (including all the tissues I went through during my breakdown tonight). I didn't throw out old clothes. I didn't discard bad things. Everything that I have is good. I don't have junk in my heart to get rid of. I just rearranged everything. I have more space than I did before. My room makes more sense than it did. Yeah, I'll have to remember that my underwear are in the cabinet on the other side of the room, but it makes more sense. I even hung up some more pictures on my walls.

The Father has me in this season. It hurts like hell at times. Other times I have never had more fun in my life. I am making friends that I actually have fun with. I laughed through coffee with a friend this morning. Did we go deep and talk about real stuff? Oh yes. Wowzers yes. But we laughed the entire time. We had fun. Yes, I cry daily. But I wouldn't want to be anywhere else. The Lord is unraveling me. That's hard. But I have never felt more safe, loved, and beautiful. I am in good hands with Him.

You see, before I wasn't filthy. Jesus took care of that on the cross and I look like Him. But there were some things that were/are just in the wrong place. Right now, it feels like the chaos and unraveling will never end, but I know who is doing the work. I can rest secure in His loving, gentle hands. He knows what He is doing.


One last side note: I found a ring that I have been missing since September. The nail ring was lost, now it is found! Praise Him!!!

Wet kisses

I have many favorite bible passages, but my favorite parable in the entire New Testament is one that we are all familiar with. Pretty much anyone who has spent any time around Christians or the church has at least heard this one twice. It's that familiar. I'm going paraphrase it, I'm sure you will know the one I'm talking about within the first sentence. 

(If not, check out Luke 15) 

There was this really rich guy who had two sons. His younger son approached him one day and said, "Pops, I know you aren't dead yet, but let's pretend you are dead to me and go ahead and give me all my inheritance. I want all my half of what you got." The father, being a good father, obliged and let the teenager have his inheritance early to do with it as he pleased. The boy ran off and spent all the money on alcohol, drugs, sex, and the like. Basically he spent the money on filthy things that his dad probably would never have approved of. Finally, the boy found himself working for another man, doing the nasty work- feeding the pigs and cleaning up after them. He had spent all his money and had no food. He was so hungry that even the slop he fed the pigs looked delicious. The boy finally wises up and realizes that even his dad's hired slaves have it better than he does now. He decides to return home and beg his dad to take him in as a slave. 

The father sees the boy from way down the road, the bible says a long way off, and the father begins to run towards his son. He is sprinting, whooping and hollering from deep wells of joy and pleasure- His son has come home! 

Before the boy can even get a word out of his mouth, the father plants a big, sloppy kiss on his filthy, pig-crap covered cheek, throws a robe and ring (of authority) on him and hollers for someone to kill the prized calf for the biggest block celebration party in history. 

The boy's older brother got pretty ticked off at the father because he was faithful and loyal and did everything right but never got this kind of celebration before. The father reaffirms his love for him and tells him that he's great and has access to all his brother is getting and more simply because he's a son. 

And the party goes on. 

This story is referenced in nearly every altar call in the church. Everyone has been one of the brothers, well, really both of them, at one point or another in their life. It's a sweet story where the boy is forgiven, but I think we sometimes miss the big picture. 

The parable is known as the prodigal son. If you ask someone about it, they will tell you "oh, it's about this kid who wasted everything and then got back on track and his dad threw a party". 

But if I can change the title of this parable, if I can help you see that this parable isn't at all what we have come to accept it to be, please give me that honor. 

This story isn't about the son. 

It's not about the filthy son.

 It's not about the faithful son. 

It's not about throwing really rad parties. 

This story is about the Father. He is the point if the story. 

The story is about the Father's goodness, not about the sons' filth or faithfulness. 

Thank God! Thank God that our Father in heaven is that good Father! Thank God that when we were filthy in sin he ran down the road to plant a big, wet redeeming kiss on our cheek. Thank God that when we pout and complain that it's not fair that we have been so good while others have been so bad he lifts up our chin, and sings songs of delight and extravagant love over us and speaks to our identity as sons and daughters. 

Thank God that he is good-er than we ever imagined!!! 

The son thought he would beg to be a slave, but the Father surprised him big. The Father gave him the authority of his name. The son didn't have to earn the Father's trust back. He didn't have to prove himself. He didn't have to beg and plead. The Father was watching and waiting for the day that the son would carry his name, his identity, and walk in the authority that is his, simply because he is a son. 

So today, where ever we are, whoever we feel we identify most with, forget it. Forget who you feel most like.

Quiet your heart and mind. 

Listen. 

Hear that? 

That sound is the pounding of the Father's feet coming down the dirt road to plant a big kiss on your cheek. 

That's the rhythm of Him singing his pleasure over you. 

He is more good than you ever wished you could imagine. 

Step into your identity as a beloved son or daughter of a really, really, good, glad, kind, loving, dad. You dad is in a really good mood. 

The Real Gospel

I have been thinking the past few days about my life and the message of the cross in my life. I grew up knowing that Jesus loved me and died for my sin so that I could go to heaven. I was taught that day in and day out throughout my childhood.  I know that's true. Even if you don't believe it because the Bible says so, you can look through history and you can see that it is factual. A man named Jesus was crucified as "The King of the Jews". History meets Bible story.
But I think that somewhere the Church has gotten this Bible story wrong. I think they have missed the point. In my experience, the missing of the point created the opposite of what they were striving to do. I'll explain what I mean.

What is the typical Sunday morning gospel or cross message?
1. God is perfect.
2. You are a sinner.
3. God hates your sin and can't be around you because you are filthy.
4. You deserve to go to hell.
5. Jesus died on the cross so that you don't have to go to hell (a frustrated effort to fix your sin problem).
6. Now you can be forgiven and go to heaven because Jesus rose again.

It's been my experience that the Gospel presentation has emphasized my depravity and sin more than God's love.
What this has done is created a sin-consciousness in the lives of Christians.
Christians are all too aware of sin in the lives of other Christians, non-believers, and themselves. This creates really ugly condemnation and judgement. Both are the opposite of what God wants for humanity.
Romans 8 says there is no condemnation
John 3 says God didn't send Jesus to condemn the world, but to save the world because of His great love.

Sidenote: The law condemns (Romans 7), Jesus redeems.

 Romans 7:4 says we have died to the law 

so that we can belong to Jesus in love. 

So many well meaning believers beat themselves and others up with the law that is now powerless because of Christ's death and resurrection. Romans 6:6-11reminds us that we died with Christ- our sinful nature is no more. We are alive with Christ. Free from sin. 2 Corinthians 5:17 calls us a new creation.

Paul shared a really beautiful, truth in Romans- to sum it up, basically it's we do what we don't want to do when we focus on what we don't want to do. 

Example:

When I was younger 10-12ish, I hated saying the number "six" because I was always afraid that I would accidentally say the word "sex" (and that was a super dirty word! :-p ) It never failed though, every time I tried to not say "sex" and make sure I said "six" it always ended up sounding more like "sex" than "six". I did what I did not want to do because I was focusing on not doing rather than doing. 

Another example:

When people are studying to learn how to identify counterfeit money, they study the real thing. They do not study the counterfeit or what to look for in a counterfeit bill. They gaze upon the real thing. The learn the real bill. 

So many believers have gotten so focused on identifying lies they have forgotten to study the truth. 

Yes, Jesus died for my sin. 

But the reason He died was for love. The cross wasn't a frustrated attempt to fix mankind. It was the goal all along. Jesus was crucified before the foundations of the earth. It was His joy to die for us because He loves us so deeply! 

I haven't heard a sin focused gospel message in a good 4 to 5 months. I am not struggling with wanting to sin either. I don't desire sin because I have locked eyes with Love. I'm not saying I am perfect. Somedays, I really struggle with selfishness, which is sin. But I don't desire sin on a regular basis. I can't remember the last time that I had to make myself not sin and force myself to avoid temptation. I don't want the lesser loves when I know Love. 

Friends, don't focus on not doing, not sinning. Focus on the Man Jesus who loves you. Don't focus on the sin He died for. Focus on the look of love in His eyes. 

Behold the man name Love.