(no subject)
Way back when I started this job at the church, I started to think about self-disclosure.
Some recent posts in friends' journals have made me think about this, too. About self-disclosure, but also about grace, about hypocrisy, about holiness.
My history, my life's trajectory, is a mess. You want to know the details? Come talk to me; I'll tell you all about it.
And there are times when it has been remarkable to find others willing to self-disclose to me. People who have been there, done that, just like me; histories which are whispered over coffee and histories which are told with quiet boldness in public conversation. It is healing when someone says to me, "This is what I've done and who I've been, and this is what I'm becoming by the grace of God", and I see my own life reflected, the grace of God a slant of light in that reflection that reorients it all. That is one potential benefit of self-disclosure: participating in the healing of others' hearts by the baring of your own.
It does come with a downside. Some people will always remember you by your history. Some people will always look at you and say to themselves, no matter how quietly, "I know you. You had an abortion; you had two abortions; you left your first husband; you committed adultery - maybe more than once; you stole a car and totaled it; you contracted hepatitis by doing IV drugs; you were an alcoholic - maybe you still are; you had bulimia; you overeat with compulsion; you had thirty sex partners before you got married." Some people will always identify you by your past. They will not see their own life reflected in yours; or to their own detriment, they will see their life reflected but without that slant of light to reorient it all, the grace of God.
Some people will always consider you a hypocrite because of your imperfection - your past, present, or future imperfection. Some people will always consider you a hypocrite if you seek after holiness after years of seeking after all the pleasures you can find, wherever you can find them. Some people will always want to place blame, create guilt, stir up shame, hurt your heart, doubt your transformation or your future. Some people will see that slant of light but wish to shade their eyes. We all do this from time to time, even Christians.
I don't know the solution to this. Obviously we all have to be careful what we tell and who we tell it to. People can be so fickle and betray your confidence so quickly and so easily. But that doesn't mean we should all just clam up and never tell anyone anything about the imperfect parts of our lives.
Yesterday I had lunch with a dear friend who discussed, fairly freely but still privately, her abortions. I realized during that conversation that I had been carrying around the weight of some long-forgiven sin, fearing that I was eventually to be punished painfully by God for it, and as we talked, I thought to myself, I do not need to carry this around this way. It was a weight off my shoulders, right there on the patio at Potbelly's.
Days like today - when I'm feeling tired, stressed, ugly at heart, impatient, inwardly and outwardly unattractive - when I'm feeling as if I'll never get there - it's good to hear, from people I know and love, that life is messy and it's okay. I'm glad for that.
I seem to have some phases in my life during which i need to return to the most basic of concepts. This seems to be one of them. Yesterday I wrote as a comment in someone's journal:
The truth is, I know what it's like to be a Christian who has failed again and again - long after becoming a Christian. For what it's worth. And if you've ever met a Christian who said that they never sinned again from minute one, I would maintain that you've actually met a liar.
I came to Christ five years ago this month, seeking redemption - not only of my sins and failures but of my losses and hurts. My deepest need was to see the things that hurt my heart, both of my own doing and not, redeemed. So rather than it being freedom to do anything I please, accepting Christ meant freedom to view the things I had done in a different light - to turn in a new direction.
After that, did I still sin? Probably a dozen times so far today. Maybe once or twice before I even left the house this morning. In the five years I've been a Christian, I've done things wrong, both big and little. But how? Because I had license to do that? Oh, no. I did a lot of bad things knowing I did not have license to do them. I did them because I'd turned from that new direction. Because I'm not perfect. Some Christian doctrines talk about "progressive sanctification" - meaning that we're not instantly perfect, but we can keep turning toward God, even in our failures, and little by little, we become better and better, by grace.
I believe that grace is freedom to, not freedom from - meaning that I see it as freedom to live into who I was really made to be, rather than freedom from the repercussions of my sin. I can't run from my sin just by hiding behind grace. My end of the bargain was to pick up and follow Christ, and to realign myself in a new direction; and when I hit a pothole and start veering off the path again, to realign myself again and keep moving. Sin isn't okay, even in the light of grace. The diference just is that grace changes everything.
The basics indeed. But that's where I am today.