The Unworthy Saint

Around once a week you will find me dancing with Christ in the sanctuary of our church. Usually we’re alone when we dance, though every once in a while someone will come by and take notice. The funny thing about it – no matter who comes in, no one really hears our music and no one really sees our dance. I mean, they hear our music, but they don’t really hear it for what it is. And they see our dance, but they don’t recognize it for what it is.

You see, our dance is the dance of the vacuum cleaner and our music is the hum of it’s engine. We dance all over the floor of the sanctuary with a droning repetition and the hum of the motor drowns out any other sound. The beautiful thing though is not music or the dance itself, but the conversations we have. Jesus tells me of His love, His grace, His beauty – I tell Him the things on my mind, the struggles of this life, the hopes I have, the dreams.

I find myself learning more there in our dance than I do in my bible studies, in my small groups or on Sundays at church. It’s a beautiful, funny thing for me – dancing with Jesus is the only kind of dancing I do half well; the only kind I really enjoy.

I feel completely alone. I don’t feel any connection to humans in this moment, which I kind of don’t mind… I just want Jesus. Please Jesus, I just want you. Please know me, please let me know you.

I have high hopes for my relationship with God but I suspect they aren’t high enough. I so want to love Jesus. I so want to know him more. Like, I want to cry when I think about how much I want more Jesus. And yet I find I never quite get there, I always betray myself and God.

I am unworthy of the title of Christian.

I don’t do well the things that Christ has laid out for me to do. I don’t love others as much as I love myself. I don’t even love myself as much as I should. I don’t feed the poor much, or help orphans and widows much. I confess that I hate stupid drivers sometimes. I am mean to people I love. I don’t talk to my neighbors, nor do I really have any desire to do so. I judge people before I get to know them. Then I judge people after I get to know them. I envy people with money, fame, comfort. I gossip about celebrity lives. I am legalistic, stuck on trying not to do the wrong thing instead of just trying to love God. I don’t talk about Christ in the same light He deserves.

None of that is what Christ lived for, died for, or called me for. He called me to love people as I love myself, which includes loving myself. He called me to feed the poor, take care of the orphans and widows who can’t very well take care of themselves. He called me to love the other drivers on the road, and be kind to the people I care about (which should include everyone in the world). I am called to be kind to my neighbors and not to judge anyone. I’m called to be content with what I have, to understand that he has provided for me, that I shouldn’t envy or talk about “how great” other people’s lives are. I’m called to love God with all my heart, and He tells me just because I love Him, He’ll transform me into a better human being. He asks me to talk about Him to people that I love, so they can get to know Him to – and the hope I have in Him.

But I don’t do those things well. If you aren’t a Christian, and you know me, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for mis-representing God to you. I’m sorry for not loving you in the way that Christ has called me to do. I’m sorry I’ve not treated you in the way I should. Please forgive me and please know that the God I know is a God that’s so much better than my actions convey… that I, as a Christian, am trying, but mess a lot of things up. I just ask you to forgive me for getting in the way of Christ, and I pray you’ll see how He really is in spite of me… That He loves you so much and wants you to get to know Him.

When it comes down to it, as an artist, I am only a magnifying glass. I frame off a certain space and call attention to the subject so others can see the beauty God created.

“You will get as much of Jesus as you surrender of yourself.”
-Matt Chandler

A wolf in sheep’s clothing in nice in appearance but cruel in reality.
A sheep in wolf’s clothing is cruel in appearance but nice in reality.
A wolf in wolf’s clothing is cruel in both appearance and reality.
A sheep in sheep’s clothing is nice in both appearance and reality – and is what we should all aspire to be.

Sarcasm is pessimism you can laugh at… it’s pessimism with a happy-clown face.

Happy Birthday.

Another way of seeing it:

You’re either collecting treasures you’ll enjoy forever, or collecting the very coal you’ll burn by.