I hate Christian cliches. HATE them. I hate being sent those useless chain emails where you MUST send it on to another 13 people within 7 seconds or else you're not a good friend. I hate the condescending smiles of people who seem so serene and use these little mantras to try and make us all feel better. I hate that Oprah is a goddess to some and hang on her every word. I hate "Jesus is My Co-Pilot" and re-printings of "Footprints" on every conceivable surface.
Getting a vibe here?
The depth with which Jesus operates demands more than bumperstickers or mantras; yet His simplicity is mystifyingly difficult to accept. It is what it is. There you are. Another cliche.
Today I was told "let go, and let God"… by someone who doesn't really claim to have faith in Him. Now, obviously I can't judge one way or the other where her heart is at or how she worships God. It's not like she owes it to me, of all the people on the earth, to share that part of her life with me. But as far as I know, we don't see Jesus Christ in the same way.
She saw in me something that has dogged me since I was born (having been born at a very young age but practically conceived an old soul already… born SERIOUS). And that would be the nagging grief of WORRY. Her relationship with Jesus notwithstanding, it may as well have been Him sitting there telling me what she was saying. It was a slap in the face. One that I needed… but let's be honest: no one likes being slapped. It stings. It hurts.
But I can't.
I love Him too much.
There's too much transformation… too much gratefulness… too much intimacy to yell at Him. I've yelled at Him over other things. But when the Truth is so bold as to literally take a swipe across my mouth, I had better listen. And if that phrase turns into a cliche… I bear no responsibility for it.
So the anger has mutated into a form of nauseating frustration…
Philisophically, I am probably asking the wrong questions. Spiritually, I need to get my head out of my butt. Mentally, my brain just hurts but refuses to shut down. Relationally, I am physically sick over the imminent loss of a dear friendship.
I don't get people. Not always anyway. In fact they can be downright impossible to read. If I don't know what you want, the blasted murkiness may as well chain me as blind me. In an honest effort to relate, I take what isn't mine to take and end up in a pitiful puddle of failure. Being a human being, I find many other fellow human beings in there with me… playing in the mud, just ready to give up. Getting up and cleaning up and "letting God" is like getting a five year old to willingly take a bath after coming in from a hot summer evening spent in the swimming hole. Good luck.
But unless I let God keep transforming this spirit… I'll just keep ending up in the puddle. Wow… even I can't get away from the trite metaphors and cheap cliches. It's contagious… worse than the H1N1. Ugh.
But tonight… aside from being thankful for the slap in the face this person gave me… there is slowly coming that peace that passes all understanding (which is often used as a cliche but when truly experienced, all cliche fades into nothingness). It breaks my heart that I may lose a friendship over this. I'm heartsick tonight… and heartsick isn't something one bounces back from easily. At least I don't. The grief has already begun.