Belief II

Apparently, some of you weren't impressed by my magic tricks last time.

I have a little saying that I use, particularly when my football teams are losing: "Miracles happen all the time--they just never happen to me." Of course, this isn't entirely true. A lot of miracles have happened to me lately. Perhaps I tend to think of miracles in the same way I think of magic tricks: a fantastic illusion, but always explainable. Maybe it's an explanation I don't have, but magic is always more entertaining when you don't know how it's done. Nobody really "believes" in magic tricks. Maybe I've made the mistake of thinking miracles are the same way.

There's a woman in our church here in Jackson who has cancer. She's been battling it for quite some time now, and our church body has been praying for her extensively. But now she's recently been admitted to hospice. What surprised me is that we seemed to stop praying for her recovery once that happened. Is hospice the end of the line? That's just too much for God? Don't we, the church, believe in miracles? Don't we believe in a God Who can do anything?

Contrast that now with my church in Cedarville. I've seen some pretty dark situations there. I've seen a woman who couldn't walk anymore. I've seen a woman who was in constant pain. I've seen people lose their jobs, their loved ones, their money, or the quality of their lives. I've seen absolutely ruined people come to the alter and beg for miracles. And wouldn't you know--I've seen miracles happen.

I saw a woman able to walk again. I saw a woman pain-free. I saw a man get a new job. I've seen people able to put the pieces of their lives back together. I've seen people come to know Christ, and I've seen people on their knees thanking God for what He has provided.

What's the difference? I think maybe the difference is that my church is Cedarville doesn't stop asking for miracles. Even when things look darkest, we still ask God to do what seems impossible. Tough situations aren't a botched magic trick for Him. If we say we believe that God can do the impossible, then why don't we pray for Him to do the impossible? What are we believing in? Because if you don't believe in miracles, then you don't believe in God.

Phillips Brooks once said, "You cannot think of a prayer so large that God, in answering it, will not wish that you had made it larger. Pray not for crutches, but for wings." Our God makes miracles happen. He wants us to believe that. And when you believe in God's miracles, no situation looks dark. Belief leads to hope. Hope leads to trust. And trusting God teaches us to love Him.

I will choose to put my belief in a God Who can do anything and is willing to do the impossible. I've seen lives turned around because of people who never stopped asking for miracles. That's part of who I want to be.

Because miracles happen all the time. And yeah, they even happen to me.

-Steve

Belief

I have always been fascinated by magic.

If you're wondering about the background noise, that's my parents watching television. So while they're glued to the TV, I'm in my room doing card tricks for myself. It's tough to know who the real winner is in this situation.

You know, the funny thing about magic is that when somebody is about to do a trick for you, you already don't believe it, and nothing will convince you otherwise. You enjoy the trick because it's cool, entertaining, and often humorous, but even though your enjoyment is proportional to how convincing the magician was, you're never actually convinced. You never really believe that he just sawed that girl in half--that's got to be a violation of all kinds of safety laws. You never really believe that I used my mind to turn your card upside down while the deck was still in the box. And you don't really believe that I can make the ace of spades vanish out of my hands, even though I have clear video evidence to the contrary. You don't trust your senses because you don't believe it.

One of the things I keep telling myself in my battle to be the hero is that if I really believed what I was saying, I would be a different person. There would be no question about it. If I really believed that I was on the path to being a villain, I would mend my ways of villainy and the problem would be solved. This stems from a conviction that if you really believe that Bible, if you've really accepted Christ into your heart, it'll change your life. Why hasn't it changed mine?

Two answers to that question. First, it has. Sure there's a weakness I've got, but welcome to humanity. A repeated and, arguably, intentional failure in one area doesn't mean God hasn't changed your life. It just means there's more cleaning up to do before it spreads.

Second, it's not really about belief, anyway.

My issues with God have never been about belief. They never have. I have never for a moment doubted that God is real, that He loves me, that He sent His only Son to die for me, or any of that. I never doubted that. All of my contentions have dealt with trust, not belief.

I'm discovering that you can believe something is true and still not act on it because the alternative is so swaying at the time. Here's an example.

I have the coolest umbrella in the world. It's a huge orange and white Tennessee Volunteers umbrella that I got from my parents as a gift. It is kickin'. Very distinctive, too. My friends at Cedarville have no trouble finding me when it rains. It's works splendidly well when I'm at school. But when I'm home, and it's raining, I don't take it with me. Why? Well, first, the distance between my garage and my vehicle is very slim, and heaven knows I'm not walking anywhere. But the main reason is that it's such a huge hassle to get the incredibly large umbrella into the car when I'm using it. Obviously I can't fit it through the door before I close it up, but if I close it up before I get in the car, I get just as soaked as if I had never had an umbrella. And for those of you thinking "just get in the car and then close the umbrella outside of your door, then pull it in really fast," try it sometime.

So I can see that it's raining. I believe I'm going to get soaked. But I don't act on it. On purpose. Because the alternative is pretty convincing at the time. "I'm going to get soaked anyway...why bother? I can just run fast between my car and the building." And while I always regret my actions, I didn't make my choices because I didn't believe I would get wet; I made my choices because the alternative seemed so good at the time.

So, I'm a moron when it's raining. What does that show?

It shows that belief and action are strongly tied together, but no so strong that we can't be swayed. Maybe I'm going down a path that will lead to terrible consequences; maybe I'm not. But if I struggle, it's not because I'm not believing hard enough. It's because I'm faced with an alternative that looks pretty good.

And that's why my struggles are with trust, not belief.

And while I can't rub my hands together to make struggles disappear, I don't need to. Because someday I'll wake up and start being the hero. Somehow I'll begin to look past the alternatives that look so good. With God's help, I can change my life.

That's something worth believing.

-Steve

To Be a Hero III / Love VI / Alone II

Naturally, I only come here when there's something on my mind (which makes sense--that's why I created this place). But the only things I ever "have on my mind" anymore are always the same things: being a hero, falling in love, and being alone. As of late I've begun to realize that all three of these are intricately tied together. As long as I'm not a hero, I can't know love and will inevitably be alone. Simple concept enough.

It's been beating me up lately, though. Let's be honest about it: I feel cheated. I feel hurt. I feel undesirable. I feel like most people don't really know who I am, and as such they would never be interested in having a serious relationship with me. I don't feel that way when I'm with my friends back home. In high school, I knew exactly who I was, and so did everyone else. I didn't want to go off to college and start things over. I got it right the first time.

I don't think I got it right the second time. Maybe I tried too hard to be entertaining. Maybe I tried too hard to be intellectual. Maybe I tried too hard to be somebody else because I really began to hate the person I saw myself becoming. And now nobody knows who I am. I don't even know who I am. All I know is that when I'm here, when I'm home, the people I'm with see me in the way I wanted to be known--the way I really am. I am myself here. When I'm at school, I'm nobody. I'm nobody interesting. I'm nobody exciting. I'm that guy that "everybody knows" but nobody really wants to know.

I feel like if the women I was interested in really knew who I was, things might have been different. And for each one I've lost, for each one I've been rejected by, I always wonder that same. Maybe she would have known that I would have treated her like the princess she once imagined herself to be. Maybe she would have known that I would have delighed in nothing more than making her happy. Maybe if she would have known that just the idea of her was so powerful to me that my devotion would never have been in question, maybe things would have been different.

But that's not who I am there. And why? Because I never became the hero.

All right, I'm not a villain. I know that. But let's face it--every day that I don't step in the direction of becoming a hero is a day that I step in the direction of becoming the villain. And one day it will catch up to me. And on that day, there will be no doubt that I am meant to be alone for the rest of my life. And rightfully so. For on that day I will have demonstrated that I can be devoted to no one but myself. Such a man is not worthy--no, not capable of love. And on that day, I will have no one to blame but myself.

And now, I don't have anybody to pursue. For possibly the first time in my life (since hormones started making all of my decisions, of course), there's nobody I'm even interested in. Of course I'm dying for a companion, but I don't even know where to begin to look. College? Already screwed that one up. Grad school? Don't kid yourself. People don't have time to find love in grad school. My future job? Yeah right. Throw in the added stipulation that "she's got to be a Christian!" and we're lookin' at "ain't never gonna happen."

Which naturally takes me to a place of compromise. I might actually be at a point now where I don't care if she's a Christian. I just want a companion. Anybody. I just want to know that there's someone on the planet that I'm attracted to who could possibly be attracted to me at the same time. Don't get me wrong, I want her to be a Christian, but that pool is drying up. I know, ... I know that's a bad idea. I know I shouldn't. I know I should care. I know that leads to nothing but disappointment, heart-break, and an uneven yolk, etc etc. But I've got needs that have never ... never ... been met, and the whole bread-for-stones thing is looking pretty good. I never wanted to be desperate, but I guess I've always thought I'd have someone by now. And so naturally, when I think about meeting some random girl in some random situation, I think, "why not?" I may never get another chance like that.

I guess that's what happens when you fail to be the hero.

While listening to Andy Stanley the other day, he gave a very interesting definition that caught my attention. He said that when the Bible talks about the "foolish," it's talking about people who know what the right thing to do is, who know the consequences of doing the wrong thing, but do the wrong thing anyway. That sounds familiar. So what I've been calling a "villain," Andy Stanley calls a fool. Even though I know exactly where I'm heading, I can't stop. I won't stop. I have given up so many times--I have abused the system so many times--I am worthless to the Kingdom.

What would God want to do with me.

If there is any chance that I could be a hero

That I could finally stand up and do the right thing for the right reason

That I could learn how to love God

And what love really means

If there is any chance that I might not be alone

That I might be worthy of love

Capable of love

That I could finally have these emotional needs met after nine years

If there is any chance that I am worth anything to You

That I am capable of contributing to the Kingdom,

God,

You have to show me tonight.

Because I'm getting desperate.

Desperate people listen to desperate ideas.

And I don't want to be that man. I never did.

But I can't hope for something I don't believe I'll find.

So show me that I can still find fulfillment somewhere.

I am a fool

But I will not be a villain.

Make me worth something.

-Steve

Love V / Alone

I have an incredible headache tonight. I took some pain reliever, but it's not really helping. I'm in a somewhat unusual mood that I can't describe, and I can't really explain why I'm in it. Nothing unusual has happened. Nothing's really changed at all.

Maybe that's the problem. Maybe I was hoping things would change.

This is the part where there's a ripple effect, and the scene goes black and white while we flashback to a month ago. I was alone in my dorm. Luke must have been at track practice, and for some reason, I paused in my math homework to call Pastor Steve, one of the associate pastors at my church here at home. At school, I don't see him for months at a time, but he took a vested interest in me for some reason. He took an interest in my struggles, my faith, my purity, and my life.

For the next hour I told him everything. I told him about the irrational fear, the guilt, and course, the fantasies I struggle with (comes with the gender, you might think, but I promise you that women face the same struggle. Many just don't realize that chick-flick-type fantasies damage the way they view men in the same way that sexual fantasies damage the way men see women). I wanted to be free from that. I can't live in fear. I used to kneel by my bed every night and tell God that I wanted to be a hero, that I wanted to be respectable, that I wanted to be a blessing to others. But I didn't end up like that. I didn't end up anything like that. Maybe I'm not the villain, but I'm certainly not the hero. And how can I call myself respectable when I see failure after failure with this struggle? I thought my life changed that day. I thought I had made a step in the right direction. But it didn't last long.

It was like I didn't even give myself the chance to succeed.

Fast forward to where I find myself tonight. Still fighting irrational fear. Still struggling with fantasies that I know will eventually damage my relationships and potentially destroy my life. But I realized something the other night. This irrational fear that I'll miss the rapture--it's a fear for the wrong reason, the wrong thing. I'm not afraid of a severed relationship with God. I'm just afraid of being alone.

I've always been afraid of being alone. For as long as I can remember, that has always been my biggest fear.

I think that's why failure in "love" has haunted me in the way that it does. Because a continued failure will undoubtedly result in me being alone for the rest of my life. I crave intimacy, someone to hold, someone to defend, someone to love with a fury, someone to devote my life to. But over the past six years I've seen nothing that points to anything close to that. There is a barrier in the friendships I have at school. I can't get past a level of formality. I would venture to say that there are fewer than five people there who really know who I am at all. My friends back here, back home, are people who really know me. I can't seem to find that anywhere else.

I've been trying to "come back" to the lesson I thought I learned my Freshman year--trust. I tell God that I trust Him. And I do. But there's something that doesn't fit--something that doesn't make sense. Because I can't trust Him to provide a companion. Why? Well, why should I? Everything I've seen in my life says that I'm meant to be alone. And I've spent the last two years trying to come to terms with that. Why shouldn't I be? Fantasies that damage the way I see people, that I knew would destroy my life. I can't handle love. I can't handle someone else devoting their life to me. I can't even handle my own life without destroying it. The reason God hasn't given me someone to love is because I would destroy it. As Pastor Steve said, God raises up good men for His women. I'm not one of His good men. And so I have no reason to believe that God will provide a companion. His Word promises me salvation, but it never promises me this. It never guarantees a companion. I don't deserve one of His good women. I would be the biggest mistake she ever made.

Which makes the problem cyclical. If I will never have a companion, then all I will ever have is fantasy. It's all I have to hold on to. It's the one thing that is certain. If I will never have what I crave--physically, emotionally, and spiritually--then I have to obtain it somehow. I have to convince myself that I've obtained it in some way. Sure, it's all a lie, but it's a lie that keeps me sane, to a degree. And it's a lie that further damages me and destroys my life, ensuring that I can't be the hero and forfeits my teenage desire to be one of God's good men.

I still believe in God. I believe that He wants to do something with my life (I wish I knew what). I believe that I can trust Him. But this is something else. This is a complicated emotion derived from guilt, desperation, and fear. I can trust Him for anything, but this is something He's shut the door to. This is something that isn't meant for someone like me. This is something that apparently I can't handle. And so I continue to indulge in a psychological opium that produces more guilt and drives me further away from what I wanted to be.

God, what happened to me.

Let's clear a few things up:

• I am not depressed.
• I am not suicidal.
• I am not on drugs or alcohol (that stuff is like drinking gasoline)

I'm just in a state where my relationship with God is hindered by this unique emotion, this guilt, desire, doubt, and longing for the full level of trust I know He's waiting for. I'm not one of His good men. But I never stopped wanting to be.

But I did stop believing I can be the hero. I did stop believing that I'm not meant to be alone. I want to be close to God like I once was, but I don't know how to love Him. Just like I don't know how to love anyone. I don't know what love really is. All I know are fantasies that will never come true.

I hope I'm not a lost cause. And I've never hoped I'm wrong as much as I do tonight. But as far as I can see, my life is what I made it. I wish I'd been more careful. Maybe then I could have known what it really means to love. And maybe I could have known what it really means to be loved.

-Steve

Fear II

Not long ago I began to develop an irrational fear.

I grew up in a Baptist church. A church that believed in justification by faith, predestination, and eternal security, and many other things that over years I've come to believe are true (and some of the finer points of theology I've come to believe are not true). But going to Cedarville has changed my world.

Cedarville is often thought of as a Baptist school because so many of our students are Baptist, but that's really not the platform that it runs on. We have speakers from all different persuasions, all of them Christian, but only some of them Baptist. Chapel has opened my mind to different viewpoints and challenged me to determine for myself what I believe to be true.

My church down at Cedarville isn't Baptist. Westside Community Church is Springfield is an awesome little church with about sixty people total in the church and about twenty-five to thirty people on any given Sunday. It's a Brethren in Christ Church--Christian, but different in many ways from the Baptist beliefs. Of course they believe in justification by faith, sanctification, and all that jazz. But no predestination. And no eternal security.

They believe that nothing can steal you from the hand of God...but you can jump out if you wish. It's called apostasy; you decided that you no longer believe in God or Christianity and make a conscience choice to leave the church. And once you decide that, you are no longer saved.

I wrestled with that idea. I do frequently concern myself with the "finer points of theology," looking through Scripture for what I believe presents the best evidence. Most of the time it's with things like birth control or fighting in war; this was pretty much the first time that biblical battle was something that deeply concerned me. It was the first time that the topic really hit home. For the first time, the issue wasn't just a finer point of theology to me--it was life or death. I had to have an answer.

I heard their arguments from Scripture, and I read books that supported my own argument. But during this time, I developed an irrational fear. I call it irrational because I want it to be irrational; but to me, it's very real.

I began to fear that I would miss the rapture. For the past three or four weeks, I've woken up in the middle of the night and have been unable to escape the fear that everyone else in my hall had vanished. Whenever I would get up to use the bathroom, I would always check and make sure that my roommate was still there. And whenever the light was tricky and it appeared as though he was gone, my heart would pound out of my chest and I would think, "Oh no...this is really it. It really happened this time." It's an irrational fear because it's consumed me. I never had this fear growing up. Not until I heard for the first time that maybe heaven wasn't as secure as I thought it was.

 I get it during the day sometimes, too. Anything that remotely gives the hint that someone I love has vanished into thin air sends my heart and mind into a frenzy. What happened to me? Why do I suddenly live in fear?

Like I said, I've been reading and studying about eternal security, trying to find an answer. Trying to find peace. Because this fear has cost me so much sleep that the lack of sleep is beginning to fuel the fear. Why am I suddenly afraid of the God I devoted my life to? I find myself confessing all of my sins every five minutes just in case. I'm like a little kid who's afraid of the dark. Except when you're afraid of the God of the universe, that carries a little more weight.

The foundation for my fear was the idea of apostasy. What if my pastor at Westside is right? What if I can forfeit salvation by jumping out of the hand of God? Have I done that?

Well, have I?

I've spat in His face so many times. I've purposely sinned, looked for excuses to sin, even cried myself to sleep out of guilt and then sinned the next morning. I'm pathetic. Disgusting. I'm nowhere near the hero I wanted to be when I was sixteen. I'm just a man who says one thing and does another. I'm not the friend of God that I wanted to be. I'm not someone looking to do what is right. If ever there was a Christian who could jump out of the hand of God, it must be me. I've delighted in this sin so many times that I stopped being sorry. I've grown cold to the spirit, and what's still warm is being ignored. Does God still have salvation for me?

It seems like salvation would be tired to sanctification--becoming more like Jesus. Having a relationship with Him. But I feel so distant from Him. I feel so separated from Him. My friend Jesse tells me about a new convert at a church gathering who, within two minutes of knowing God, had asked God a question and gotten a clear response. He had asked God what He wanted to do with his life and told Jesse that God had said, "You'll see." He asked Jesse what that meant.

Let me tell you what it means to me. It means that God is more interested in talking to people He's known for two minutes than the could-have-been-a-hero He met sixteen years ago by a brown chair in a suburban living room. I have never heard the voice of God (except possibly once), and I feel like every time I ask for something big, something miraculous, something that without a doubt would have to be an intervention from God, He won't do it. He won't show up for me.

Now, maybe that's because He thinks I should know better by now. After sixteen years, I shouldn't need to hear His voice like someone who's known Him for two minutes would need that to "vindicate" their faith. Maybe I should be stronger by now and take it on faith. But I do need it right now. I cannot live in fear. And I need to hear something or see something that is real, something that will let me know I have nothing to fear.

I fear that God will forsake me on that day because I have forsaken God. And even though I want to be clean, even though I want to do what is right--before the next morning, I will fall again. With complete knowledge of what I am doing, I will fall again. Does God still want a relationship with that? Does God still offer salvation to that?

And I want to be honest with myself. Because I want peace to my fear, but I know that really there is a part that wants carte blanche to sin without fear of eternal repercussions. But there is another side to the coin. There is a part that wants peace from my fear so that I can learn to love God, not fear Him. I know we should "fear" God in a respectful manner, but that is not what this is. This is terror. This is flat-out terror that I will be forsaken on that day.

And it is literally driving me insane.

How do I get out?

How do I stop flinching at every noise I hear during the night, as if God is going to announce the rapture by playing the bass guitar really loud first?

How do I even begin to move in the direction of learning how to truly love God when I am terrified of Him?

Oh God, I cannot live in fear. Please do not let me live in fear.

Please help me.

Help me escape from this fear.

But there is good news.

The bad news is that I forgot there was good news. See, people think growing up in the church can just result in indoctrination, but that's not it. It's preparation for times like this.

And I had forgotten that the gospel is about good news.

The gospel is about what Jesus did, not my religious games.

Because I will never be good enough for God. Even if I were to conquer this weakness, I'm not sure that it would conquer this fear. Because I will never be good enough. And as long as I'm trying to buy my way into heaven, I will have fear. Because I can never be sure that I've done enough, and God might say, "You lose." But God doesn't sit up in heaven saying, "You've been good enough, I guess I'll let you live." He sent His Son to die in my place--to die in my place--so that I wouldn't have to fear.

It must be a real slap in the face to Him to have me so afraid. But that thought can make things recursive if I'm not careful.

Friends, please pray for me. I still live in fear, even though I try to remember these things. Pray that I would have peace. That God would somehow let me know in a powerful way that I am still a child of His--that He is still interested in me, and that I am still somehow valuable to Him. Pray that I might get rest. Pray that I would no longer fear. I cannot live in fear. No one can.

Father, forgive me for the things that I've done. I am a despicable man. Please do not abandon me. You promised that You would never leave me or forsake me. Help me to want to do what is right. Teach me how to love You, that I might not live in fear. That I might live differently. Passionately. Joyously. That I might live a life that is radically devoted to You. That I might live fully. Completely. Righteously. Honorably.

And yes, fearlessly.

-Steve