I’m not exactly sure about how to start this post. I’m at a loss for words. What’s the right way to start a confession? How do you do “transparency” correctly?
There are aspirations–certain ideals–that Christians hold to and attempt to live up to. There are verses that are waved as banners while arriving at some level of spiritual maturity. John gives us one of these verses.
He must increase, but I must decrease.
John 3:30
It all sounds good. It somehow fits into our Christian cookie jars and makes it onto the front of our refrigerators. However, it’s really not that simple. I experienced it once…and it drove me to bitterness.
Shortly after graduating from college, I spent a few years in “full-time” vocational ministry. I floated through a couple of jobs. I was on staff at a church serving as an intern youth minister to middle schoolers, I landed a job at another church within their IT department, and I was a personal trainer at a few gyms. These activities only served a single purpose–to provide income while I shared the Gospel.
During those years, most of my free time was spent on the streets sharing the Gospel, in churches teaching believers how to share their faith, or traveling between FCA camps as a small group (huddle) leader. It didn’t take long to acquire quite a number of stories from my faith-sharing interactions. And, eventually, it seemed that the only thing folks cared about were the stories. Somehow, I found myself fading behind the amazing things God was doing.
Don’t get me wrong. I enjoyed telling others about my various encounters, but on the inside, I was hurting. Though others were encouraged by the stories I shared, an aching grew within my heart. It felt like fellow believers cared more about the stories than they cared about me. Whether this was true or not is immaterial; the hurt was real. In that season, God certainly was in the limelight; I was in the backseat. And, I grew bitter.
“But, why?” you may ask. Why was it so difficult to let God have the glory for the incredible things I had a front-row seat for? There are probably a few reasons. First, simply because some scripture is much easier to pray than live out.
Some scripture is much easier to pray than live out.
Second, there’s a skeleton in my closet, and it’s been there for years. The one thing that made it very easy to talk with and relate to the people under bridges and in the dark alleys was the very thing that haunted me. It’s the desire for acceptance. They felt rejected; it resonated with me and I understood.
After the fall of Adam, humanity has longed to find acceptance. It is an insatiable thirst with which we are all born. Some find it, while others seek it all their lives. While I’ll save you from the boredom of me recounting some of my childhood experiences, suffice to say they widened the gap and deepened the desire. Looking back, I think the only season I experienced a reprieve was during my time in college. There was a momentary calm to this pain. Other than that, the question lingers…Am I accepted?
Perhaps, this question has been the driving force all along. Maybe I just wasn’t quiet enough to hear it echo. Or, perhaps, I simply ignored it. You tell yourself that God loves you and you believe that. However, you hear the words of Rich Mullins, as well, “Big deal. God loves everybody. That doesn’t make you special.”
As God has moved me into a writing and teaching ministry over the past few years, this damning question still rears its head but with a few different faces.
Am I good enough? Am I qualified to write and teach?
If this ministry ever becomes anything, will my pride and desire for acceptance get in the way again? If God receives this glory for any of this, will I once again become bitter?
Maybe I should write with a pseudonym, and then my name wouldn’t be on anything. But yet, my heart would still find a way to take the credit.
Maybe it’s just safer not to write and teach. Just…fade. But then I’m in disobedience, and I’d grow angry for being called to this in the first place. I could even blame God for being in such a predicament.
Yes. The thoughts are real. The fear is real. And religious platitudes are worthless.
God knows how long and how hard I’ve prayed about all of this. I’ve read multiple verses countless times to grow beyond this. I’ve sought healing, but even now I still struggle.
Will I ever overcome this? Will I ever find rest? Is this a “thorn” I must live with for the rest of my life? Is this something that is here to keep me humble? Only God knows. But here I am, messed up and all, with nothing to hide. Just trying to be obedient with one foot in front of the other–one step at a time.
At the end of the day, my only hope in all of this is grace.
