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I have a new friend named Glennon.
This week, I’ve been reading her book, Carry On, Warrior. I don’t quite agree with everything she says in it, but I don’t quite agree with all my husband’s convictions either, so it doesn’t bother me much.
She talks an awful lot about truth-telling. She invited anyone who wanted to tell some truth on the internets to link it up with her site, momastery.com, all to coordinate with the release of the paperback of her book. I’ve felt sort of ambiguous about this, because I feel a little bit like Anne Shirley when Rolling’s Reliable takes over her novel, but a big enough part of me wondered if I might just not want to say something too truthy that I’m here.
So, here is my trust fall:
I struggle to believe that God loves me (and I’m a priest).
We live in an accomplishment-oriented society; our culture tells us that we have to achieve to be accepted and loved. Popular interpretations of the parable of the talents don’t help–“If you don’t do your very best with all the ‘talents’ you’ve been given, you’ll be called lazy by God and thrown into the outer darkness!” (Matthew 25) This leads us to despair when we don’t think we’ve done enough, and it leads us to toxic amounts of achievement (perhaps especially at elite institutions *kicking hornets nest* *still wearin’ my duke blue devil horns headband*).
My broken understanding of love often leads me to over-function for others–thinking, hoping, desperate-to-believe that if I do enough for someone, she will give me love. This is a dangerous belief for a priest to have–there’s always plenty to do for your congregation to try to earn their love, and even more so, there’s always more you could do for God. The voice of fear in my head accuses me, “You’re lazy to not stay until the very last parishioner goes home.” “A truly devoted priest would do ALL THE THINGS before leaving for the night.” Of course this tempts me into thinking that everything depends on me (when really, everything depends on GOD).
Earning love isn’t a thing. If we’re motivated to do good deeds or to go to church or to work hard because we think that it will help God will love us if we do them, then we’re missing the whole point of Christianity, and the whole point of love.
Love cannot be earned. Love cannot be lost. Love is a choice.
Doing bad things doesn’t ever make us unlovable (to God). Making “wrong” choices doesn’t set us back on God’s love-o-meter. Because the love that we show each other is always broken and imperfect, our understanding of who we are in God’s eyes can get messed up.
Even when we doubt God, or ridicule him, or turn away from God all together, he doesn’t leave and he doesn’t stop loving.
Today is Maundy Thursday. At the Last Supper with his disciples, Jesus gave his followers a mandate – to love one another (John 13). Tonight, in churches around the globe, people will gather to remember this event again. Throughout the following hours, Jesus showed his disciples, and the whole world, what it means to love.
As people mocked him, 42 “He saved others,” they said, “but he can’t save himself! He’s the king of Israel! Let him come down now from the cross, and we will believe in him. 43 He trusts in God. Let God rescue him now if he wants him, for he said, ‘I am the Son of God.’” (Matthew 27:42-43) Jesus stayed on the cross. Even when his companions abandoned him, he stayed there, bleeding and hanging. Jesus stayed.
Jesus, the Son of God, God himself, stayed with humanity. God came, and God stayed, no matter what people did to him. God still comes, and God still stays with each of us.
My calling as a priest isn’t to be the perfect example of love any more than it is the call of every person to love. We’re all witnesses to God’s love by the very fact and miracle that each of us exists. My calling as a priest is to listen with other curious people, to sit and stay with suffering people, and to offer Jesus as healing for our brokenness.
This essay and I are part of the Messy, Beautiful Warrior Project — To learn more and join us, CLICK HERE! And to learn about the New York Times Bestselling Memoir Carry On Warrior: The Power of Embracing Your Messy, Beautiful Life, just released in paperback, CLICK HERE!
original artwork by Roger Hutchison
Shouldn’t we all live in Berkley, California?
Watching last week’s episode, as the four adult siblings gather to support one of their ranks who’s found herself unexpectedly alone, I felt a twinge–my adult siblings live spread throughout the United States, a sad reality for many modern families (though a happy opportunity for each one of us in our life paths). The many seasons of this television show have always focused around familial support–the kind of love that’s harder to show from far away, since it’s more centered around sitting together in waiting rooms, showing up unannounced with pizza, and struggling through everyday life together.
Though we often do a bad job of it, there’s a reason God calls Jesus Christ his “Son,” and why people are referred to as “co-heirs,” “brothers and sisters,” and “family” throughout Scripture, we all belong to each other (as Glennon Doyle Melton often puts it). So whether or not we were raised in the same house, we’re now continuing to grow together in the same house–God’s–and we’re called to be brothers and sisters to each other because we all belong to God.
The glorious freedom of Christianity is that we aren’t limited to bloodlines or last names; our family is everyone who belongs to God (which is everyone. period). Often, I feel a little sheepish or tentative about reaching out boldly–as a sibling might–to offer love, support, a shoulder, to someone; the only way to change our communities is to change ourselves.
Sometimes all we need is some take out and a bottle of wine.