Friday, February 14, 2014

On the Meaning of Love


So, today is Valentine’s Day and with this day comes talk of love and what it means. And it means different things to different people, which really is the crux of all relationships, right? The messiest of break-ups, whether in a friendship or a romantic attachment, comes from the two parties not getting their idea of love met. The struggle or angst comes because each party believes their way is the right way and they can’t understand why the other person isn’t adopting their viewpoint.

Case in point, a few years ago I was strolling through the mall with a guy I really, really liked. As we walked past a jewelry store (in mid-January) on the way to the movie theatre he said this:

“I hope you’re not one of those chicks who expects jewelry every time some holiday comes around. Or flowers or whatever you chicks are told you need to get from guys so you know they like you. And I don’t do Valentine’s Day, so if you’re expecting some grand evening, forget about it. You know I like you and I don’t need to buy you jewelry or anything else, so if you like that kind of stuff, you might as well just break up with me now, cause it ain’t going to happen.”

(And this is pretty much a direct quote, because I recited it to my friends so much, I still remember it after all these years.)

I shrugged my shoulders and said, “Done.” Then turned and walked away. And this I remember too, we were still holding hands, so as I walked he kept holding on, until I had to turn around and flick my eyes at him, then my hand, then back at him again. “Why are you leaving?” he asked. “Cause you’re a douche,” was all I could think of to say.

Of course he called and called and couldn’t believe I was breaking up with him over Valentine’s Day. But the thing was, it had nothing whatsoever to do with Valentine’s Day. It had to do with his very selfish viewpoint. It had to do with the way he thought about relationships and love. It was about him. His viewpoint. His likes or dislikes. It never occurred to him to ask me my thoughts on the subject, he just very douche-ily told me his and expected me to fall in line. Um, no.

Because that is not what love and/or relationships mean to me. To me, love is a verb. It is an action toward others. It is not selfishly motivated. It is about giving, but not giving with the agenda to then receive. To just give.

We’ve all seen what a relationship looks like when it is run by a selfish person; when it is all about them and what they want and what they need and what they perceive to be love. These people crab incessantly about their significant other and what that person is not doing for them, they crab about this person not making them happy, or fulfilled, or whole.

And here’s what I believe; if you are not happy or fulfilled or whole, that is 100% your fault. And shame on you for putting your expectations of happiness, fulfillment, and wholeness on another human being.  

Because looking to someone else to complete you, besides making you a selfish crab, can make you compromise your beliefs or wants to just be in a relationship. I have a dear friend in CA who wants, very much, to get married. She met a guy at church and has compromised her beliefs to stay in the relationship. They are living together and she doesn’t think he’ll ever make the commitment to marriage. And why should he? He’s getting everything he wants, right? She doesn’t see the disrespect this ‘christian’ guy is showing her by asking her to compromise her beliefs. Her witness as a follower of Jesus is tainted and sadly, if they continue in this relationship or do get married, what other compromises is he going to ask of her?

And as much as I have seen (and been in) dysfunctional relationships, I have seen (and been in) wonderful ones where the connections are strong and purposeful.

As I go through this time of singleness, I have great examples of strong relationships, not perfect relationships, but strong relationships. Where you see the love, you see the commitment, you see the other person drive them crazy and you watch them handle it with selflessness and grace.  And yes, sometimes this comes in a box of candy and flowers on February 14th, but mostly it comes in the day to day exchange of what life is made up of. Jobs, kids, worries, health issues. Life.

The Bible tells us repeatedly that our love is for others. Love isn’t love till you give it away, as the old song says, and as I live this life, I see how true it is. Being loved is a wonderful, wonderful thing…and I don’t just mean romantic love, which is so glorious, but the love of a good friend, the love of a good dog, the love of our families. But, when we give our love away, to that romantic love, or that good friend, or that good dog, or that family member, our hearts seem to soar outside our bodies and takes on a life of its own.

Because love IS a verb.

It is an action for others. It is kindness in the grocery store aisle or on the roads of Tucson. It is a smile for the homeless guy who sells you a paper. It is putting the toilet seat down because you know how much she hates it up. It’s watching him put together an old beater car because it is his passion. It’s accepting others who don’t look like you. It is the God of all sending His son out of heaven to earth.

We all long for and look for love. It’s in our DNA. As a Christian, I understand that God is love, a phrase that is said so much that the meaning is all but gone. But, when I stand before Him on Judgment Day, He will say, “she has sinned greatly and deserves death, but I, being perfect, took her sins and already died in her place, I washed her sins away.”

Or in the words of dctalk…and rap this with me now, “Gave up His life so that we may live, how much more love can the son of God give? Here is the example that we ought to be matching, cuz love is a word that requires some ac-tion!”

Be a verb today. Go. Give. Love.


Happy Valentine’s Day!

Sunday, February 9, 2014

On When I Became a Christian


I became a Christian in 1987 and before that I was, um, how would I say this…diabolically opposed to Christians. I made fun of them. Argued with them. Made certain they knew how distasteful I thought they were. Ridiculed them. Heckled them. I once sat at a Christian wedding  (it was my cousin who was getting married) and made fun of the entire ceremony even going so far as to “marry” my friend Brad, who went with me, to show just how ludicrous I thought the whole thing was. Loudly. We were laughing  and repeating sarcastically what the Pastor was saying. We even announced to the happy couple that we too got “married” and proceeded to call each other “husband” and “wife” for the next 10 years of our friendship. We thought it was so funny to introduce each other to anyone we dated this way. And this was one of my milder antics.

When I lived in Manhattan, there was a guy who continually tried to get me to sleep with him. And, yup, he was a Christian. And engaged. I would argue with him all the time asking him how he could be a “Christian” and behave the way he did? I would point out that I was not a Christian but had better morals than he did. He would defend himself by saying that Jesus loved him no matter what, to which I would say that is the stupidest thing I had ever heard. “Do you mean to tell me you can do whatever you want and Jesus just forgives you?!” He would answer that Jesus can forgive anything and I would snort my dissent. “You’re not a very good advertisement for your religion,” I told him. “It’s a relationship, not a religion,” he responded. “Well, you’re not being a very good person in your “relationship” to Him or your girl,” I spat back, doing the air quotes in a mocking way when I said “relationship”. That seemed to hit him hard and I was very proud of myself for showing him what a hypocrite he was and prouder still that I wasn’t stupid enough to fall for this religion.

This is not to say that I had never believed in God. When I was a little girl we went to the Episcopal Church. I had gone through Catechism and the like and talked to God all the time.  The times I felt closest to God was not in church, for goodness sake I used to make up gymnastic routines in my head during the sermon. It was when I was just talking to Him; asking Him things, praying for my family when I felt a closeness with Him. During the sermon, it seemed to me, we just got yelled at and told how horrible we were and who wants to hear that?

But, in my youth, I also mistakenly thought that if I was good and kept close to Him that nothing bad would ever happen to me. And, well, that’s not the case. Within a few years everything that I loved and held dear was taken away and I got mad at God. It wasn’t huge things, in retrospect; my gymnastics career ending because of injury and losing the boy I loved, but for a 16 year old girl, it was the world. So, by the time I was in college, and heard about Jesus from a Christian perspective, I just didn’t want to hear it. Tried that, He’s mean, no thanks.

The way Christians behaved clearly was a hurdle for me.  Jim and Tammy Baker and their huge PTL ministry were big at this time and my nose automatically wrinkled in distaste every time I heard or saw anything about them. They were all about money and hatred, and I just couldn’t align myself with anything so icky. Anybody who had to hide under that mask of make-up was up to no good, I would always say. And, of course, we all know the history. When their world all fell apart, I was right there mouthing off to yet another Christian who happened to be in my life. She smiled at me kindly and said, “You shouldn’t blame God for what people do in His name.”  She explained that God loved me (whatever!) and if I really wanted to know Him, I should learn about Him, not take my cues from people.  She stressed God wasn’t about manipulation or hypocrisy at all, but that yes, some of His followers were.

We ended up having a nice conversation and a week or so later someone on campus handed me a mini Bible that only had the New Testament in it.

For whatever reason, I started to read that mini Bible, but the more I read, the more questions I had about things. And here was my dilemma…how did I ask one of my Christian friends a question without getting preached at? I’d heard the whole “you’re a sinner and going to hell” thing and, let me just say this now, no one has ever wanted to follow Jesus being told this. So, I would try and ask questions in a roundabout way and I quickly found out which Christians were the hell and damnation Christians and which ones just honestly answered my questions. They also steered me toward some incredible books and I did a lot of research.

As I read more and had more questions answered, one of these Christians suggested I go to church with them. It took me a while, but I started to go. At this time I was living with my fiance and he was going on this journey with me. We would talk about the Bible and slowly, we had to start talking about Jesus. He seemed to jump in pretty quickly, but I resisted.

Honestly, Jesus was the hold up for me. All of these Christians I didn’t respect talked about Jesus. Jesus this and Jesus that and He was really more of a caricature to me than anything else. But, the Bible said He was real. Not only real, but God. The God. The Alpha. The I Am.  The Redeemer. The Savior.  And I couldn’t wrap my brain around the thought that He knew me and loved me. Was it pride? Was it arrogance on my part? Or could I just not believe I was deserving? Was it unbelief in Him or myself?

As I continued to go to church, I understood that the next step was to start praying. I read that if I had questions, I could ask Him and He would answer, and well, let’s put that to the test. I would pray about a question and then go to church and low and behold wouldn’t that be what the pastor was talking about that day. I’d look around and try to find out who told him? Who told that pastor I had that question? This would happen over and over again…it still happens to this day, I might add.

Yet, I still resisted. I had all the knowledge, I had all the evidence, but I wasn’t ready to jump. I immersed myself in all things that would help me learn and one was the radio. I would listen to Christian sermons on my way to the U. Now, I was always late and parking was ridiculous. Even if I was on time, I would end up being late because I couldn’t find a parking spot. So, one day I got so mad I started yelling to God…’okay, you’re supposed to be there for me in even the smallest situation? Prove it! Find me a freakin (I didn't say 'freakin') parking spot!’ As soon as the words were out of my mouth, someone pulled out of a primo spot. Did I say ‘thank you’? Nope. In my mind, there had not been enough time for Him to answer; I had just gotten lucky.

And then, every day for a week, that same primo spot would open up just as I pulled in to that lot. Every day. At different times. By the fifth day, I sat there crying in my car, because I knew it could only be God. And several truths hit me; He does love me, He cares about me, He is real. The last one is what brought the tears. He is not a caricature; He died for me. Stupid, sinner me who would demand a parking spot from the Creator of the universe. I’m lucky He takes us where we are, because truly, a bolt of lightning is what I deserved. But, He was gracious and gave me what I needed to understand Him.

My life changed pretty quickly after that. The Bible tells us that when you become a Christian, a veil is pulled back from your eyes; suddenly, the mysteries of the Bible and of God Himself are revealed to you. And that certainly was my experience. Passages or concepts I really couldn’t understand suddenly were clear to me.

I moved out of the apartment I shared with my fiancĂ© and within a few months felt God leading me to break up with him. I heard God’s call on my life and seemed to know instinctively which way to go. I learned a lot about faith and what it meant to lean not on my own understanding. Becoming a Christian gave me a peace and calmness that people noticed. I spoke freely of this change and (surprise!) faced the scorn and biting tongues of people who didn’t believe. My biting tongue was gone, replaced by understanding…I certainly knew where they were coming from.

And, this is how I know God is gracious and forgiving and changes people, because my goodness I was a mouthy little brat! And God used that fact.

A few months after I got saved, my friends and I went to a Billy Idol concert. It was a great show and as we were leaving, we were singing and dancing when we encountered a group of people yelling, “Worship God, not Billy Idol!” They were right in our faces and screaming in anger. And that made me mad. The girl who yelled at me got a big surprise when I stopped. I shook my head, “No, you’re wrong,” I said. “You are making judgments, which Matthew tells us in wrong. You don’t know my heart or anyone else’s heart. It’s wrong for you to assume because we are at a concert that we don’t know the Living God. And enjoying Billy Idol’s music doesn’t mean we are worshiping him…shame on you for your judgments!” She looked startled at my words and as the crowds pushed us away I heard her yell, “God loves you!” to the crowd, which in my mind was much, much better. Because it was truth.

So, this was my beginning to following Jesus. His truths are what hold me together; what has gotten me through the most horrendous of times. He amazes me and His miracles still surprise me.


And, yes, I still sometimes pray for a parking spot when I am late!