Been thinking about this whole Jesus thing.
So many oddities about it. So much that feels ambiguous, unsettling, mysterious. And then once in awhile, something clicks into place.
Lately, there are certain ideas that scare me. Discipline. Rules. Commandments.
Now, I know these are all parts of agreeing to living life under His Kingship, i.e., 'If you love me, you will keep my commandments.' But as a recovering overachiever, these words conjure up feelings of dread. Fear that these moral standards will be forever elusive, always threatening to crush me with guilt and shame. Always heaping on more "shoulds," "oughts," "supposed-tos." So, maybe I'll just stay away from them altogether. Just swim in grace. Great.
But, take the whole Sermon on the Mount. It's Jesus laying out His idea of how to live life. And it doesn't really sound like any of it is optional, for His followers anyway. There's this implicit idea that if you're going to befriend Jesus, you're going to take Him up on His way of being and living. Nothing less.
Shoot.
Love your enemies? Don't worry about money? Don't do good things just so that others see you? Turn the other cheek?
I can't do that. I'm human, darnit.
So, I cringe inside, trying to hide from the reality of how impossible this whole thing actually is.
But maybe it's not like that. At least, it's not about the 'shoulds, the oughts, the supposed-to's.' Lately, I imagine Jesus giving me the Sermon on the Mount less as a moral dictator and more like a counselor, mentor, shepherd, heart-friend.
Maybe if He was on earth today, He'd meet me at Starbucks, buy me a latte, and we'd sit down in comfy chairs by the fire. I'd let out a deep sigh and then tell Him about my life, my struggles with anxiety, relationships, the future. He'd look at me with eyes that see the soul, yet a warmth that transcends my deepest fears of being exposed. And He'd begin engaging me, humbly, compassionately, knowingly.
Giving me those words in Matthew as life to a tired soul. Antidote to broken relationships. Peace to an anxious mind. As an invitation to a life, not easier, but fuller, richer, and more real.
As channels of the Spirit, that's what my best friends do for me.
Only Jesus could be King and Friend.
So many oddities about it. So much that feels ambiguous, unsettling, mysterious. And then once in awhile, something clicks into place.
Lately, there are certain ideas that scare me. Discipline. Rules. Commandments.
Now, I know these are all parts of agreeing to living life under His Kingship, i.e., 'If you love me, you will keep my commandments.' But as a recovering overachiever, these words conjure up feelings of dread. Fear that these moral standards will be forever elusive, always threatening to crush me with guilt and shame. Always heaping on more "shoulds," "oughts," "supposed-tos." So, maybe I'll just stay away from them altogether. Just swim in grace. Great.
But, take the whole Sermon on the Mount. It's Jesus laying out His idea of how to live life. And it doesn't really sound like any of it is optional, for His followers anyway. There's this implicit idea that if you're going to befriend Jesus, you're going to take Him up on His way of being and living. Nothing less.
Shoot.
Love your enemies? Don't worry about money? Don't do good things just so that others see you? Turn the other cheek?
I can't do that. I'm human, darnit.
So, I cringe inside, trying to hide from the reality of how impossible this whole thing actually is.
But maybe it's not like that. At least, it's not about the 'shoulds, the oughts, the supposed-to's.' Lately, I imagine Jesus giving me the Sermon on the Mount less as a moral dictator and more like a counselor, mentor, shepherd, heart-friend.
Maybe if He was on earth today, He'd meet me at Starbucks, buy me a latte, and we'd sit down in comfy chairs by the fire. I'd let out a deep sigh and then tell Him about my life, my struggles with anxiety, relationships, the future. He'd look at me with eyes that see the soul, yet a warmth that transcends my deepest fears of being exposed. And He'd begin engaging me, humbly, compassionately, knowingly.
Giving me those words in Matthew as life to a tired soul. Antidote to broken relationships. Peace to an anxious mind. As an invitation to a life, not easier, but fuller, richer, and more real.
As channels of the Spirit, that's what my best friends do for me.
Only Jesus could be King and Friend.

