It's Not Cool

After hanging out with the Episcopal crowd for a month or so,  I had a realization.  The fear that held me back before  was not of Christian theology; I was afraid of Christians!  I was raised by my Mennonite mother to have faith; I was raised by my Buddhist father to question: to question what others tell me, to question what I read and to question myself.  I know I can find meaning in a good Christian liturgy.  I am an English teacher—I can find metaphor and symbol in many places.  I know I can hold my own in a theological discussion.  What I might lack in education, I will make up for with reason and argument.  I might “lose” but I will certainly enjoy it.  So, why not just jump into a Christian church and see how it goes?  It’s clear my spirit is hungry for a celebration of God’s love in Jesus Christ.  So, why not?

Well, until recently, I was afraid of calling myself a “Christian”.  It has been a long, long, time since I used that word to describe myself.  When my husband and I talked about our beliefs (early on in our relationship), I said, “I think Jesus is OK, but I don’t really believe in original sin.  I certainly don’t believe in the subjugation of women, or that homosexuality and sex outside of marriage is a sin.”  My Roman Catholic husband said, “If you believe in Jesus, you’re a Christian.”  I didn’t buy his definition—it seemed too easy.  It seemed like I couldn’t be a Christian if I didn’t believe those things.  I figured many Christians didn’t believe that stuff either.  But, I thought their churches taught those ideas and the people just held their own views, quietly in their own heart.  I didn’t want to have to keep quiet, or be told I was going to hell.  I didn’t want to hear that I had to be “saved” by some mystical force I didn’t understand.  I could never figure out what was so wrong with me and what would be changed if I was “saved”.

I was afraid to identify as Christian, because I thought that so many Christians were self-righteous, judgmental and sanctimonious.  I had been hurt by those people before.  The people who tell my sister that our father is in hell, no matter how spiritual he was, or how much of a great man   he was.  That he’s in hell just because he wasn’t “saved”.  That’s hurtful.  I’ve had conversations with people about our similar upbringings.  Then those people start talking about how terrible it is that states are now passing laws to allow gay marriage.  I say, “Where did you get the idea I was against gay marriage?.”  Well, you were a Mennonite, weren’t you? (Never mind that I do not recall a single Mennonite EVER saying that homosexuality was a sin.)

Well, I’m OK with sin now.  Rather, I’ve experienced my own sin and the well-meaning sins of others.  I can admit that I’ll continue sinning, no matter how hard I try not to.  And, I’m ecstatic to believe that it doesn’t matter—that God loves all of us sinners, no matter what.  So, I can make confession.  I can even believe some sort of metaphorical story about original sin, because I’ve seen people with the best of intentions break the hearts of all who love them.  I have seen good people do terrible things.  I know people are flawed.  So, agreeing that mankind sins isn’t much of a stretch anymore.  Especially when it comes with this wonderful story of divine forgiveness of ALL sins—period.

I also began to realize recently that the most important thing to being a Christian isn’t accepting the idea of man’s dominion over nature, or that sex outside of marriage is a sin, or that women should be submissive to men.  Many Christians don’t believe it and their churches don’t teach it either.  It’s not just people sitting in pews, filtering the “party line” that comes from the pulpit.  It’s not even that important.

What is important is saying, “Yes”.  Yes, I need God in my life.  Yes, I believe that Jesus is divine and holy and redeemed the world with his sacrifice.  Yes, I believe that God loves me, no matter how badly I hurt or how badly I screw up.  Yes, I believe there is a great mystery to the world and God and the Christian story is part of it.  Yes, I want to surrender to Christ and follow him (oh, that’s the harder part, I think).  That’s what being a Christian means to me at this moment in my life.

A good friend and mentor said to me once, “Being a Christian is embarrassing.”  Maybe cradle-to-grave Christians wouldn’t understand that but it resonated strongly with me.  During my late teens and twenties, I figured I was way too cool to be a Christian; that that old faith about people wandering around in the desert thousands of years ago didn’t have much to do with me.  Paganism was kind of cool, but too unfamiliar and scary for me to try it.  Atheism was cool, but it lacked a spirit and mystery for me.  Buddhism was rational, cool and actually very helpful; but I lacked the discipline to be a very good Buddhist.  Unitarian Universalism is proud that it’s cool because it’s so expansive and tolerant.  (Although I’m not sure how tolerant the UU’s are of Republicans.)  Basically, everything else I’ve tried was quite a bit “cooler” than Christianity; and I thought I was “too cool” to be a Christian.  But in the last year or so, I was surprised to find out that Christianity actually had quite a bit to do with me and even more surprised to find out that I really, really want it.  Still, it is decidedly not cool.

Still, I can’t put a Jesus fish on my car.  I don’t display the Christian books and I only play hymns on my Ipod when it’s just the kids and me in the car.  I talk about church, as something I do, not something I feel.  I will not quote the bible in my facebook status, except as a rebuttal against someone using it to bludgeon others into their way of thinking.  I’m not comfortable with public displays of faith.  Maybe someday I’ll come around to it.

But, I think that being a Christian is supposed to be embarrassing.  The disciples were embarrassed at times, I’m sure.  Jesus made sure to disrupt cultural norms and ask burning questions of the elite.  Peter denied Jesus three times before the cock crowed—remember?  Christianity is supposed to humble us and it’s not cool to be humble.  We’re supposed to admit our weaknesses and surrender to a greater love—that’s not cool, either.  We’re supposed to love our enemies, and to love the Lord our God with all our mind, with all our heart, with all our soul—it’s not cool to care that much about anything. If we can be embarassed daily by God’s overwhelming love for us in Jesus Christ and our undeserving nature, then maybe we’ll get a little closer to God.  Jesus says to give up our lives to follow him; not to make sure we look good doing it.