Just Call Me...

Twice recently I was involved in a conversation concerning Christianity.  I guess that should really happen more often if I am doing my “job” but this was more specific than the walking the walk I aspire to daily.  It was more definition style.

I have adopted a new term for myself.  Having grown up Primitive Baptist and now attending Methodist with practically all others in between, I will not use a denominational term.  I prefer the term Christian Hedonist.

John Piper wrote an entire book on this description called Desiring God some 20+ years ago.  I believe he coined the term as a way to describe Christianity that won't conform to a church's specific ideology but tries to mirror that of Jesus and the saints as related in the Bible.  He explains it so well that my attempts seem quite pathetic.  It was published around the time I decided God wouldn’t take someone as unable to carry the burden of regulations as I.  Too bad no one gave me a copy. 

When I realized Jesus died for me and I wanted to live for him, I was filled with an amazing joy.  I was loved that much?  Really?  How could that even be a little bit possible?  I was clumsy, made mistakes, in some ways even considered myself broken.  I saw him holding his arms open to me to envelop me.  He saw past my faults real and perceived, and saw me.

Then I was given the list of dos and don’ts.  A ream of obligations sat on my very young lap.  Added on top of the responsibilities I already had, the very ones I could not quite complete.  I buckled.  I couldn’t dress right let alone follow the rest!  I wanted the love and joy I’d felt not the disapproving looks I received. 

My childhood from many perspectives was quite ideal.  I honestly have no real complaints.  Good parents, involved grandparents, a small town of folks who actually looked out for one another.  Nothing in this world is perfect but it was a mostly wonderful childhood.  I was a very sensitive child.  I have always had the ability to pick up on what others were feeling sometimes before they themselves knew.  I’ve always felt my own emotions passionately.  Outwardly, no one had a clue.  I’ve always played it close to the vest.  Even people who delivered emotional sucker punches would rarely get a hint they’d hurt me.  Only my writings understood how my heart would shatter.

I could only take so much rejection, no matter how subtle, before I was forced to protect myself from the “religion” I had accepted.  God may have been the Creator but apparently he was also an absentee father.  It was more than a dozen years before I realized it was the people and their created rules of propriety that were killing my relationship with my Savior.  Jesus knew my heart.  He knew my wounds.  He only wanted to carry my burdens with me and love me and have me love Him.

I ran away.  I went from one bad choice to another.  Got myself into situations I really couldn’t escape.  In those situations, I learned that the hole in my heart would never be filled by anything on this Earth.  I could numb it.  I could forget it and myself for short periods.  I simply could not live with it.  The temporary fixes were going to end up killing me. 

Music is how I was reached.  I heard songs about relationship not regulations.  Love not lists.  The music and the words reached past the walls I had erected.  I began to read the Bible verses the songs were based upon.  Psalms is packed to explosion with calls to joy.  Joy is not accomplished by those other things.  Even when King David was at death’s door in sorrow, he wrote of the joy he had in God. 

That was it!  That was what I’d felt all that time before!  I was unable to put in to words for anyone who may have asked but I began to actively seek the things that would bring me joy.  Something I’m sure the regulations would have deemed egotistical.  Joy is not something anything on this planet can offer without Christ.  I volunteer at church, not because I am supposed to but because I enjoy it.  I give to charity because it is pleasurable. I ignore the regulations anyone tries to place on me no matter how small.  I wear jeans and t-shirts to church.  The only obligation I have is to love God with all my heart, with all my soul, and with all my strength and my neighbor as myself.  Guess what?  That makes me joyful.  I don’t feel weighed down by the command to love others.  I feel freedom and peace.  I find joy in doing what God wants me to do.  I will not allow the regulations to tie boulders to my soul to drag it away from Him.

My pastor has done a series on worship the last few weeks based on Psalm 95, rejoicing (v1-5) leading to reverence (v6-7a) resulting in response (v7b-11).  He said one of the things that seemed to keep coming to mind was that if God’s greatness is the basis of our joy then our joy is the evidence of God’s greatness.  That He is most glorified in us when we are most satisfied in Him.

I have forgiven those who wronged me although memories can still have the pain attached.  I have managed to mostly forgive myself which can be a much harder, longer process.  The regrets I’d once replayed in my mind wanting a way to change them are becoming lessons to be understood.  I seek joy in all I do because I seek God’s will.  I wish I could claim that I had it down and no longer made the same mistakes.  I still lose focus and end up depressed trying to “fix” my problems on my own.  But understanding that there is a goal and that it is attainable means that I can keep working towards it.  I repent.  I pray.  And, being human, I too often repeat. 

Jesus prayed until sweat poured like drops of blood because he understood what he was supposed to do.  It was not going to be a happy experience.  He had to focus on the joy beyond and cling to it.  The joy of reuniting creation to the Creator through his sacrifice.  Praise God he did or this would all be a moot point.  Sometimes I am not going to be happy go lucky, but that isn’t joy.  If I can retain my focus though, the joy will be there and will be fully experienced.  Jesus is my treasure.  My Savior is my joy. 

May God bless you and keep you until we meet again.