Knowledge and Love

I had a bit of a painful wake-up call recently. I was talking to someone (someone who loves me) and they said in an off-handed kind of way, “I know you hate stupid people.”

Ouch.

Do I really hate stupid people? Perhaps I do, and that’s bad enough itself, but of greater concern to me is the implication behind this sentence:  I make people feel stupid.

I don’t want to make people feel stupid, that’s not my heart.

Let me explain. See, I’m a universal sort of geek. It doesn’t really matter what the topic is: coffee or quantum physics; movies or economics, I would love to know everything about it. It has been incredibly difficult to accept that I actually cannot know everything about everything. It sounds like a joke, but it's true. I really would know everything if I could. I am perhaps not as interested in the Korean War or hydraulic engineering as I am in some other things but, if I had the time, I’d learn about them too. 

My preoccupation with knowledge has been no end of frustration to me. While I do believe that knowledge is a very good thing, what about those times when my drive to know and learn shakes my faith? What about those times when my pursuit of knowledge knocks people over?

“If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing.” 1 Corinthians 13:1-2

As I considered the possibility that I “hate stupid people,” I recalled jokes and comments about me: how much I like to talk, how I like to argue, how I like to pick up bits of trivia, and I realized that, when describing me, rather than saying, “Sarah really loves people,” people are more likely to say, “Sarah likes to be right.”


I vividly remember a conversation I had with a friend of mine when he asked me what I wanted my legacy to be, how I wanted to be remembered. I thought about it and I said, “I want people to know that I loved, that I loved them and I loved others.

I can’t tell you how much this saddens me because I really do have a deep love for people in my heart. But the trouble is, if the people in my life do not know how much I love them, if I do not show that in my actions then it really doesn’t mean a whole lot.

“Little children, let us not love in word or talk but in deed and in truth.” 1 John 3:18

"...knowledge puffs up, but love builds up." 1 Corinthians 8:1

“In the multitude of words sin is not lacking, but he who restrains his lips is wise.” Proverbs 10:19

I’ve always referred to these verses in a joking kind of way, I even called Proverbs 10:19, my “life verse” for a while. But, in truth, I kind of hate them. God has given me an inquisitive sort of mind and I have no doubt there is a reason for that, but this is all useless, completely pointless if I do not truly, (madly) deeply love people or build them up.


I like knowledge, I like talking; these are the things I’m good at, my gifts. I can't just turn them off. Meekness and humility are as foreign to me as eating grass or flying; it seems that I’d have to be reborn as a cow or a bird to possess them.


But the secret part of my heart longs for these things because I know they are the better part. I know there is no higher calling than to lift other people up. Maybe the reason I know this is I can see how knowledge can be used to hurt and to tear down.

Have you noticed how often God uses the wrong person for the job?

He used a stuttering murderer to save the Jews from Pharaoh and a Pharisee to preach freedom from the law, why not lift up the down-trodden with an insecure, self-centered girl with an addiction to being right? It fits.

As I’m down here in my little puddle of self-disappointment may I ask you, what do you want your legacy to be? Do you feel like you are living it today? What obstacles are in your way?

I’d love to pray for you as you pray for me. Let’s learn to love together, yes?

An Ogre Layer Cake

"Ogres are like...onions!"  

"They stink?"  

"Yes... No!" 

"Oh, they make you cry?"  

"No!"  

"Oh, you leave 'em out in the sun, they get all brown, start sproutin' little white hairs..."

"NO! Layers. Onions have layers. Ogres have layers. Onions have layers. You get it? We both have layers." 

"Oh, you both have LAYERS. Oh. You know, not everybody like onions. What about cake? Everybody loves cake!"

"I don't care what everyone else likes! Ogres are not like cakes."

"You know what ELSE everybody likes? Parfaits! Have you ever met a person, you say, 'Let's get some parfait,' they say, 'Hell no, I don't like no parfait'? Parfaits are delicious!" 

"NO! You dense, irritating, miniature beast of burden! Ogres are like onions! End of story! Bye-bye! See ya later."  

"Parfait's gotta be the most delicious thing on the whole damn planet!"
-----------

 

This conversation between Shrek and Donkey is one of my favorite moments in animated cinematic history. It always makes me laugh, which is why I allow such a weak transition:

 

Sometimes, I am like an ogre.

 

I have layers, and, I would argue, they are more like an onion than a parfait. Not a nice, caramelized, Walla-Walla sweet onion. No, I am one of the stinky, foul, yellow onions that absolute destroy my mucus membranes. My peeled-back layers stink up my house and make me cry.

 

I am not sure what He is hoping to find at the center of me, but God keeps peeling back my layers. Just when the pain begins to subside, He digs in again, stripping back layers and layers of pride, fear, mistrust, and weakness. Honestly, I would have been fine if He hadn't started on this last layer. I was feeling pretty good: sufficiently humble to know that I wasn't perfect but successful enough to be free of self-doubt and conviction.

And then the peeling.

 

"Growth" is something of a misnomer. It implies methodical progression from juvenile to adult; the process is fairly unidirectional. I feel like what we call "growth" is more like exploration or revelation. I dig into myself, revealing sin and weakness, and sift through the dirt, trying to cull out the impurities. But just when I feel like I have accomplished something, God rolls up in his backhoe and tears up the earth, revealing another layer of filth. I feel like I am excavating my soul.

So about those layers...

 

Lest you think that I exaggerate the naughtiness of my sin-nature, let me share with you a bit of the stinky onion layer currently under His fingernails:

 

I am dishonest.

Not impressively, though. I suppose that's probably a good thing; if I was dishonest about something impressive, like grand theft auto or my loyalties to the Russian Mafia, I might not be so ashamed of it. Instead, I am dishonest about stupid things, things that make me look foolish, ignorant, or naive.

For example:

• I am ashamed to admit that I only recently read Blue Like Jazz, because I know that this puts me about 6 years behind the cool curve.
• I am scared to death that by the time I read Crazy Love, I won't have anyone to talk to about it. "Crazy Love," they'll say, "What is this, 2008? More like 2,000-and-late."
• I am afraid that people will one day find out that my vast and profound knowledge is really just a cleverly disguised knack for googling.
• I'm scared to admit that I have no idea what you're talking about so I just nod along until I can steal a moment alone with my smartphone.
• I'm afraid that, like Mr. Inman in the 12th grade, you'll actually ask me to support my vociferous opinions with facts.
• I'm afraid that you'll look up "vociferous" and discover that I've used it incorrectly.

These are all relatively silly, the really nasty stuff is more insidious because it disguises itself as honesty. I talk about authenticity and even admit that I'm a sinner, but the only sin I confess is that which I have already prepackaged and separated from myself. This is not real honesty because it doesn't cost me anything; there is no vulnerability. I am willing to admit my sinfulness but I'm not willing to feel it. I'm not willing to wear it in the present. 

This is a stubborn layer but I do think it can be torn away. The trouble is that there is stuff in the way.

In carrying with the tradition of the "Walden Weekend," I'd like to start pulling up the weeds that are sucking nutrients from the good things planted in me so that this excavation process is a little easier or to "drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms." See, I keep coming back to this idea that it is possibly to live differently, free from the empty expectations of a Culture of Affluence.

I can't help but think that, maybe, if we, if I, weren't so heavily rooted in the peripheral things, it'd be a whole lot easier to actually do the Christ-ish things, things like being loving, joyful, peaceful, patient, kind, good, gentle, faithful, temperate, and honest. If these "unseen" things are real and eternal and the visible "stuff" is temporary, wouldn't it be a whole lot easier to be "authentic" without so much stuff?

Isn't that something we all want but never seem to actually pursue? It's not just an idea, it is vital and I'm so tired of just talking about it.

Here's to living stuffless.

Elbow Deep Relationships

"Let us consider how to stir up one another to love and good works not neglecting to meet together as is the habit of some but encouraging one another," Hebrews 1-:24-25

I've been part of an amazing small group over this past year, but as relationships deepen and God continues to work on this area of Trust in my life I'm realizing that the concept of fellowship has been cheapened a bit, at least in my experience, to just mean any social event. Really, fellowship is a deeper interaction, an "elbow-deep" relationship. That kind of relationship involves incredibly trust, faithfulness, vulnerability and real selfless love and it has been a difficult challenge for me. 

Believe me, it is well worth it.

This post originally appeared in September, 2010 as Fellowship: Beyond Potlucks

"You have set our iniquities before you, our secret sins in the light of your presence." Psalm 90:8

"But if we walk in the light as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus cleanses us from all sin." 1 John 1:7

"Therefore, confess your sins to one another and pray for one another that you may be healed." James 5:16

There is no place in the body of Christ (the collection of His followers) for sin. To be sure, it exists abundantly because we're all sinners, but wherever sin exists in our fellowship, His Spirit is blocked.

This is where a lot of confusion exists in regard to sin and grace. Obviously Christians are still sinners. It is so obvious, in fact, that those who are not Christians become absolutely incensed when they believe a Christian or group of Christians denies this fact.

Forgiveness allows us to become Christians while we are yet sinners, but grace compels us to not remain in our sin. But forgiveness and grace are only effective on sin when it is exposed or "in His light." This requires the most dreaded of words to Christians and nonchristians alike: "confession."

We Protestant Christians get a little touchy when it comes to confession, "why go through a priest when you can go directly to God? I don't need no priest to tell me I'm absolved!" Well maybe, but without the physical act of confession to another human, will you go to God? Will you be able to hear his voice when you're filled with pride or shame? Are we not to bear each others burdens?

There are no secrets with God (take the book back to Barnes & Noble and ask for your money back). A secret is simply something that remains in darkness and, as we read in 1 John, there is no darkness in Christ. This aversion, this fear of confessing our sins to one another blocks much of the healing that God promises for sin. We may be forgiven in truth but will we truly be able to receive that healing when our sin is still a secret?

Beyond healing, 1 John 1:7 also says that fellowship happens when we walk in the light, His light. I don't see how this is possible without confessing our sins to one another as it says in James 5.

If there is one thing that truly threatens the existence of Christ's church, I believe it is not secular humanism, it is not the theory of evolution, it is not gay marriage, neither is it even sin, it is an inability or outright refusal to confess our sins to one another. Hypocrisy and secret sin are the cancer of His church, a mass of darkness growing secretly deep within the body destroying it from the inside out.

It is not enough that we hang out together on sundays, that we have cookouts, that we have bible studies, thats we pray for our sicknesses, we must walk together in His light, confessing our sins to one another and praying for each other, bearing one another's burdens in Christ. Without this our fellowship is shallow, counterfeit even, and we create a fertile place for hypocrisy.

BUT, if we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive our suns and cleanse us from all unrighteousness!

Confession: My "Maritime" Tendencies

Therefore, put away all filthiness and rampant wickedness and receive with meekness the implanted word which is able to save your souls. James 1:21

Let there be no filthiness nor foolish talk nor crude joking, which are out of place, but instead let there be thanksgiving. Ephesians 5:4

All of my friends already know this, but just so we're all on the same page:

I say "That's what she said,"

(quite a bit, actually)

The funny thing is, I don't even like The Office. Yeah, I have "moral objections" to it (#hypocrite, #wrongsocialmedium)

The thing is, it's just so darn funny! Usually it's halfway out of my mouth before I even think.

(Parenthetically, that's never a good thing.)

The humbug in me wants to say something crusty, like how God is a kill-joy. (Then the rest of me laughs at my use of the word "kill-joy")

But see, I know God loves laughter.

Then our mouth was filled with laughter, and our tongue with shouts of joy... Psalm 126:2

So that excuse doesn't work, plus there are plenty of incredibly funny people in the Christian realm who manage to rise above crudeness (like that Chic-Fil-A guy).

But, even if I convince myself that God has grace to cover my stolen dirty-joke laughter, I don't even try to stop it. And that's not the only thing. Oh no, that's just the slightly-naughty-yet-socially-acceptable tip of the iceberg. Here are a few more for you:

1. I make many other tasteless jokes.
2. I curse. Maybe not like a sailor, but...
3. I watch things I ought not watch.
4. I've read things I ought not read.
5. I listen to that dirty rap music.
6. I've pulled others into it as well.
7. Even if I don't use it, I know what that word (or phrase) means. And if I don't, I'll google it.
8. At one point or the other, I've been proud of these things.

Now, to be clear, I think that, too often, "prudence" is really pretension. Honesty and and truth are sometimes messy and uncomfortable, but they are absolutely vital to our spiritual health. It's important that we can be real with each other and there are times when humor makes that process easier.

But I can be as "real" as I want, but the dirty truth here is that crude joking for it's own sake is simply out of place in the mouth of a Christian. Try as I might to walk in the liberty of God's grace, I just can't find a "but it's funny" loophole here. God isn't a (*giggle*) kill-joy and He is very real, but He's also very serious about His kids loving each other with their words. I may be able to say that my use of Mr. Scott's trademark phrase might "be okay" but it's never edifying. It doesn't shine the light of God on people. It usually brings them down to a lower place.

That's serious business, friends.

I want my words to warm people. I want them to feel loved and accepted. I want them to be lifted up and shown the rich goodness that God has for them. I don't want them to be thinking about how witty, albeit inappropriate my humor is.

I suppose that since I've gone public now, I actually have to do something about it, huh?

Dang.

I guess I'll hafta get one of those naughty word piggy banks or something...

--Sarah Elizabeth

P.S. Seriously, check out that Chic-Fil-A guy out, he's onto something.