Inner tubes

Swimming pools and me... two things that don’t go together. As I lie in the sun, I’m conscious of the sun sizzling my pale, unnaturally white skin. I feel the freckles forming on my face, popping out in the heat like popcorn on a stove. My body just wasn’t made to comfortably withstand heat, so I inevitably end up in the water — even though I’ll have to put on more sunscreen later. Unfortunately, I’m not much of a swimmer, either, so I prefer to lie on top of a raft or inner tube, dangling my feet and hands into the refreshing water but staying safely, for the most part, above it. (The splashing sounds in the pool help drown out the sounds of my skin turning crispy.)

My husband has always been a strong swimmer, and he doesn’t see much of a need for a floatation device. He will hop out of boats in the middle of the ocean to snorkel, diving down to look at the bright colors, coming up occasionally to check on me as I hesitantly float on the surface, life jacket and goggles and all. He dives into pools, swims along the bottom, and feels no fear. Not me.

I’ve been reading a lot lately in Christian publications about how churches fall short, about how “church” and “religion” have gotten in the way of so many people’s relationships with the Lord. Some people are turning away from church and trying to find God on their own. And if that works for them, that’s great. But I think the church is a lot like that inner tube I hold onto for dear life in the pool. Sure, if you’re a great swimmer, maybe you can navigate through life’s stresses on your own and still stay afloat. And for short distances, you might be more efficient and agile on your own. But sometimes, life is not full of sunlight and happiness. Sometimes there are storms. Bitterly cold rains. Churning, turbulent waters. And sometimes you’re not in a friend’s small pool, but in bigger waters — ponds, rivers, oceans. The distance might overwhelm you. You might be in over your head or choke on water or be knocked down by the waves or even find scary predators hiding below the surface. And when those waters get rough, or when your arms get tired, that’s when you need the security of the church. That the point at which an inner tube just might save your life.

Not every church can be everything to every person, and it shouldn’t be. The church cannot create or maintain an intimacy with God for us. But until we get there on our own, or when we can’t do it on our own, we can depend on the church to help hold our heads above water until we find firm footing again. And when we find ourselves lucky enough to be in a sunny swimming pool, we can focus on improving our abilities so that we’re strong, ready to help the next person who feels like he’s going under.

Color-coded Christians

When I was in high school, I hated P.E. in any and all of its variations. Running? No thanks. Archery. Not my thing. Square dancing? Don’t even ask. But the worst segment of all? Swimming. What evil tyrant decided it was a good idea to put developing teens of both sexes in the same room, half-naked and dripping wet? It wasn’t an attraction issue – I don’t remember thinking anyone looked particularly good. All I remember is fretting that I looked really bad. And I’m sure I did. Insecurities run high, especially in women, and particularly in young, hormonal girls — and in any female in a swimsuit. To add insult to injury, my school provided the swimsuits. Color. Coded. By. Size. As if I didn’t feel self-conscious enough, I had to request a red suit – which meant extra large. (To be fair, one of the small sizes was also red, but there was a substantial enough difference that no one would confuse the two.) And to add insult to injury, most of the suits were outrageously stretched out from the other extra large parts most of the bigger girls had. Unfortunately, I did not, so I had to tie the straps together in back with my shoelace to keep the suit from falling off.

Some people dread coming to church as much as I dreaded swimming class, certain that everyone can spot their sins, convinced that the “churchy folk” are pointing at them saying, “She had an affair,” or “He was arrested,” or [fill in the blank]. We have trouble believing that our sins wouldn’t matter. We have trouble seeing ourselves for who we really are because we have accepted the enemy’s lies about us. We say we have faith but perhaps we don’t really believe God forgave us as He said He would. When we allow our self-identities to be defined by what we’ve done wrong, we’re essentially walking into church in color-coded suits. Adulterer? Scarlet. Addict? Green. But that’s not what church is about. As a member of God’s church, we must be careful not to “color code” those who walk in the door. It’s not our place to assign someone a category, to assume we know who they are because we know what they’ve done.

And, more important, it’s not how God functions. He says though our sins are as scarlet they will be white as snow. When we repent, when we truly understand that our behavior is preventing us from being as close to God as we could be, when we are willing to turn away from what is hindering us, then we can be confident when we approach the Lord. We can come together with God’s people, free of judgment, free of condemnation. Knowing we’re clothed in garments of righteousness, assured of our identities as children of the King, and able to stand tall and confident and without shame before Him.

Writing Prompt

In response to the following "Drops of Inspiration" writing prompt posted on Internet Cafe (http://www.internetcafedevotions.com/2009/08/august-drops-of-inspiration-writing.html):

Sometimes your medicine bottle has on it, “shake well before using.” That is what God has to do with some of His people. He has to shake them well before they are ever usable.
-Vance Havner

I think anyone who has come to the Lord as an adult, letting Him into her life, understands the idea of being shaken up. In a sense, we expect that. We are so different on the inside – in our thoughts, feelings, outlook – that once we have “found” God we assume it will have to shake up our lives. If things stayed the same, what would be the point?

But sometimes God shakes up an entire church. That’s when it can become especially painful. We don’t always know the reason, and we can’t always know if He’s the one doing the shaking. But we do know that all things work together for the glory of God. So that’s when we need to remember something that is true of medicine. Medicine is good — if it’s the right medicine, prescribed correctly, and taken in the right amounts. When things happen that threaten the temporary peace, when people’s feelings are hurt and we don’t understand why things are happening, all we can do is trust the Great Physician. And pray that our doctors are properly connected to the source, that they know the right medicine for the specific ailments, and that those who need it take the correct amounts (properly shaken, of course). Sometimes, the medicine tastes bitter. Sometimes it has yucky side effects. But if we continue on the course prescribed for us, in no time at all things start to look better. And soon, we’re back to normal, not really remembering how miserable it was to be sick.

Starving

My son forgets to eat. He does what most of us do not, and only eats when his body tells him he’s hungry. This is great, except for one thing: sometimes he can’t rely on his body. He can skip lunch, no matter what I pack him to eat, and when he comes home from school he still insists he isn’t hungry. The thing is, his behavior indicates otherwise. He’s grumpy, irritable, emotionally volatile. When I notice this behavior, I’ve learned that he needs to eat. Sometimes I have to practically force feed him, but inevitably he calms down, stabilizes, and soon is back to normal.

I have a friend who knows she’s hungry, but who doesn’t eat. She’s not anorexic, and it’s not about a diet. She hungers spiritually to belong to a church, to be fed on a regular basis. The only problem is, she doesn’t go to church. She knows why it’s important to be there; she understands the value of fellowship and corporate praise, but she’s had some bad experiences and doesn’t want to go. The thing is, she’s starving. It’s kind of like a person who got food poisoning, and no matter what, even though there’s nothing else to eat and it’s obvious to everyone else that the food in front of her is safe and edible, she won’t let herself try it. Maybe it’s the fear of going through that again. Maybe it’s simply a case of her body not telling her she’s hungry. Maybe it’s telling her and she won’t listen. But maybe, just maybe, she could realize that what made her sick was a piece of bad chicken and this other church is offering prime rib. It doesn’t have to be the same. It’s possible for the food in front of her to nourish her rather than make her sick. Maybe it will even do more than simply provide her with the nutrients necessary to survive. Perhaps it could renew her energy. Perhaps it could drastically improve her outlook on life.

Just like with my son, sometimes I have to be pushy. So that’s what I’m doing. Reminding her, because I love her and want to see her thrive. Because her spiritual health is suffering. Because maybe she doesn’t see what is obvious to outsiders. She is craving something, and she doesn’t have to deprive herself. Even if her family doesn’t want to eat with her. Whether she feasts or nibbles a tiny bit at a time. Either way, it’s good for her. I have heard that when someone is physically starving, if they go long enough without what they need, their body turns against them. It will reject the very thing necessary for it to survive. I pray that my friend will sit down at the table. At least open the menu. See what’s on it.

Meeting the family

Why is it so terrifying to take someone to meet your family for the first time? We tend to forget how charming our dad can be, or how gracious our mom is, and instead focus on the bad. Sure, Mom’s a great cook, but will they think her spaghetti sauce is just weird? Dad’s funny, but will they get his sense of humor? Will my sister tell the story of why I was called Grace through my teen years? Will my grandmother, an interesting but spunky woman, start spouting harsh opinions of my guest’s weight, religion, moral values, or marital status? What if I turn back into the ugly me, the temperamental one, the one I keep hidden from most everyone else but that my family knows so well how to provoke?

It’s easy to forget that, besides the quirks and flaws and downfalls, there’s a whole lot more someone else could notice. Kindness, funny stories, quirky traditions, a sense of belonging. Unconditional acceptance, and a whole lot of love. We tend not to notice the good traits — they’re easy to overlook when we’re being analytical and trying to see things through a stranger’s eyes — because they’re an inherent part of who we are. We don’t think about the fact that the person we’re inviting to dinner already (presumably) likes us, and therefore will also recognize some of our characteristics in our family. After all, that family is the source, the raw material, which helped form us.

Sometime, when I bring a guest to church, I find myself feeling this way about my church family. Not that I don’t like you all, because I do. In fact, I adore you. All of you. I like our worship, I like our relaxed structure, I like they way Nathan preaches and the way Gran plays the piano and the comfort of hearing people pray aloud all around me and the way we flock to the altar when someone approaches with a need. I feel completely, happily, utterly at home. But when I’m sitting beside someone new, I start to worry. What will they think? Will they decide our worship is weird? Will they jump if someone shouts out a “hallelujah?” Will they see me raise my hands and decide I’m a freak?

God chided me once as I prayed for a friend who was visiting. As I said, “I’ll stop worrying. I give this to you,” He replied, “It’s not yours to give.” He’s right. After all, this is ultimately His house, not mine. I don’t need to defend anyone, just keep on loving them like I always have. The endearing qualities I notice every day are not cancelled out simply because my family might be a tiny bit different than the family they grew up with. I need to relax. My friends will see the good things in my family that I’d like to think they’ve also noticed in me. So I need to sit back and relax. And wait for my Father’s hospitality to make my guest feel right at home.