I recently reviewed a book of fiction about a young woman who, after losing her brother and facing the possible loss of her mother, realizes that Christ is the only one who can make whole her broken heart. At least, that's what the story claimed to be. As I was reading, I saw teen romance heavily outweigh redemption. But I was assured that the romance was a key part of this story, and that I needed to leave off the assumptions I make because I grew up in a Christian home. It's important to not be preachy.
I suddenly felt something sink. I've heard it all again and again.
My negativity towards "don't be preachy" has grown steadily. At first I thought it harmless, simply a reminder that pulpit-pounding, red-faced delivery is unnecessary and not very friendly. But then I heard more of it. It seems that "don't be preachy" actually means don't preach at all. It goes along with thoughts like these: don't overwhelm people in your blog or you won't have any followers, don't be too negative, don't be too overbearing, throw a verse or two out but don't step on anyone's toes.
Now, I can understand a few things about this. I can understand that if I run up to someone on the street and say "You're a sinner and you're going to hell" then I will most likely get a punch in the face. I can understand the importance of positivity (and that there is a balance between postivity and negativity). But "don't be preachy" seems to me to be a way to play down things that should be played up, to hide things that should be shouted from the rooftops, to conform instead of transform.
I love that the Bible uses the phrase "preach Jesus" (See Acts 5:42, Acts 8:35). In Acts the church began spreading the Good News that the Messiah had come and that the world could be saved. I wonder what the men and women of the first church would have said if someone came to them with the message "don't be preachy." I wonder if they would've have laughed and continued to preach Jesus to the broken and needy.
I'll never stop preaching the truth. I'll never lighten the words of Jesus so that those listening will feel comfortable. Reading Jesus' words, you and I should be uncomfortable. We should acknowledge our wrong and cling to the saving power of Jesus. Then we should go out and preach Jesus to others, so that they can find the same hope that we have found.
"Don't be preachy"? Don't stop preaching.
Luke 19:40
The Difficulty of Letting Go
My hands are getting tired.
They are wrapped around so many things: my Dreams, my Insecurities, my Worries, and my Ultimate Fears.
My Future keeps trying to get away from me, so I tighten my grip.
It's getting harder to hold on. I dig my toes into the dirt, but my hands are still hurting. It's like I'm holding onto a kite, and the wind is turning ferocious. I don't think I'll be able to manage much longer. My knuckles start cracking, and my arms are sore. I want to let go.
"Let me hold on for you," Someone says beside me.
"Are you sure You can handle it?" I ask between clenched teeth.
"Of course I can."
I still hold on. "I don't know," I mutter. "I'm just a little worried that if I give all this to You then things might not turn out."
"What do you mean 'turn out'?"
"I mean..." I'm embarrassed now, but the weight of what I am holding remains. "I mean, what if I don't get what I want? I know...I know that's selfish. But what about these Dreams? What if these things I've been wishing for don't come true? And what if these Fears overtake me? And what if my Future...what if it turns out to be nothing much? Or what if there's no future at all?"
"Well, if all that does happen, then you'll still have Me."
I look over my shoulder at Him and ponder His answer. "So I won't be alone?"
"You'll never be alone," He says. "Here, let me take that for you."
Fear bubbles in my stomach. "Why don't you just hold half of it? Take the Fears and the Insecurities, and I'll handle the rest."
"Do you think you can hold on for that long?"
I look up at the growing mass. "I don't know." The wind whips my hair and pulls harder.
"You see, you have to give it all to me. I can hold onto it. I promise."
I suck in my breath. "Okay...I guess."
He moves towards me and takes my burdens. I fall back and breath a sigh of relief, massaging my hands and flexing my arms. From where I am sitting, I look up to see Him holding onto everything with just one hand.
The wind dies down, and I am free.
1 Peter 5:7
They are wrapped around so many things: my Dreams, my Insecurities, my Worries, and my Ultimate Fears.
My Future keeps trying to get away from me, so I tighten my grip.
It's getting harder to hold on. I dig my toes into the dirt, but my hands are still hurting. It's like I'm holding onto a kite, and the wind is turning ferocious. I don't think I'll be able to manage much longer. My knuckles start cracking, and my arms are sore. I want to let go.
"Let me hold on for you," Someone says beside me.
"Are you sure You can handle it?" I ask between clenched teeth.
"Of course I can."
I still hold on. "I don't know," I mutter. "I'm just a little worried that if I give all this to You then things might not turn out."
"What do you mean 'turn out'?"
"I mean..." I'm embarrassed now, but the weight of what I am holding remains. "I mean, what if I don't get what I want? I know...I know that's selfish. But what about these Dreams? What if these things I've been wishing for don't come true? And what if these Fears overtake me? And what if my Future...what if it turns out to be nothing much? Or what if there's no future at all?"
"Well, if all that does happen, then you'll still have Me."
I look over my shoulder at Him and ponder His answer. "So I won't be alone?"
"You'll never be alone," He says. "Here, let me take that for you."
Fear bubbles in my stomach. "Why don't you just hold half of it? Take the Fears and the Insecurities, and I'll handle the rest."
"Do you think you can hold on for that long?"
I look up at the growing mass. "I don't know." The wind whips my hair and pulls harder.
"You see, you have to give it all to me. I can hold onto it. I promise."
I suck in my breath. "Okay...I guess."
He moves towards me and takes my burdens. I fall back and breath a sigh of relief, massaging my hands and flexing my arms. From where I am sitting, I look up to see Him holding onto everything with just one hand.
The wind dies down, and I am free.
1 Peter 5:7
All I Need
I've read John 4 many, many times, but I never get tired of the story of the woman at the well. I've heard sermons about her, read books about her, and pondered endlessly about her. Maybe I like her so much because I can so often identify with her longing, her thirst.
When Jesus tells the woman that she is the one who should be asking him for a drink, not the other way around, I get chills. The woman's skeptical, of course. What is this living water? What makes Jesus so special that only he can deliver it?
This is a time that I really wish the Bible gushed the details. How did she say that line? Did her voice shake? Did she have tears in her eyes? Did she pause a moment before speaking? Did she rush to speak before he changed his mind?
There are so many things that I've longed for in my life. Some longings seem a bit petty now, but some tend to stay with me, like longings for friendship, for love, for adventure.
The woman at the well obviously faced longings of her own. She'd had a few husbands already: maybe she longed for true love. She went to the well alone: maybe she longed for friendship. So many longings, so many thirsts. Yet each time she quenched one thirst another one seemed to pop up from somewhere inside her.
And then there was this man talking to her about a water that would quench her thirst forever, quench the longing deep in her heart that nothing else could satisfy. With tears rolling down her cheeks and a catch in her voice, she dared to believe Him. She struggled for breath. She spoke the words. And He quenched her thirst.
"Please, my Lord ... please give me this living water so I won't get thirsty anymore."
I can hear the words so clearly. Maybe it's just the echo of my own voice ringing in my ears.
When Jesus tells the woman that she is the one who should be asking him for a drink, not the other way around, I get chills. The woman's skeptical, of course. What is this living water? What makes Jesus so special that only he can deliver it?
Jesus answered, "Everyone who drinks this [well] water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks the water I give him will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life."
The woman said to him, "Sir, give me this water so that I won’t get thirsty and have to keep coming here to draw water." (John 4:13-15)
This is a time that I really wish the Bible gushed the details. How did she say that line? Did her voice shake? Did she have tears in her eyes? Did she pause a moment before speaking? Did she rush to speak before he changed his mind?
There are so many things that I've longed for in my life. Some longings seem a bit petty now, but some tend to stay with me, like longings for friendship, for love, for adventure.
The woman at the well obviously faced longings of her own. She'd had a few husbands already: maybe she longed for true love. She went to the well alone: maybe she longed for friendship. So many longings, so many thirsts. Yet each time she quenched one thirst another one seemed to pop up from somewhere inside her.
And then there was this man talking to her about a water that would quench her thirst forever, quench the longing deep in her heart that nothing else could satisfy. With tears rolling down her cheeks and a catch in her voice, she dared to believe Him. She struggled for breath. She spoke the words. And He quenched her thirst.
"Please, my Lord ... please give me this living water so I won't get thirsty anymore."
I can hear the words so clearly. Maybe it's just the echo of my own voice ringing in my ears.
"I have loved you with an everlasting love;
I have drawn you with unfailing kindness."
Confessions of a Real-Life College Student
Having been a college student for two whole months now, I've made some observations. I don't think I'm too far off in my assumptions, but, if I am, please don't hold it against me. It's interesting to note that a widespread opinion seems to be circling that says arriving at college means arriving at life; as though you haven't lived until you received your college acceptance letter. I can see it in the eyes of my fellow students as I walk down crowded hallways and sit in stuffy classrooms: the heady feeling that life has just begun is thick among the freshman class.
Everyone seems to believe that college is the most magnificent time in a person's life. Television shows display a raving time of it; some even make late night studying look fun. Alumni grin as they recite embellished tales of their youthful college days. Through it all, little by little, the idea that college equals life seeps into young minds.
But with it is the knowledge that college life won't last forever. I can see that in their eyes, too. That's why one girl waits anxiously for a sorority to accept her into their group, why the guy waiting behind me in the Subway line groans about not being able to find a girlfriend. That's why I'm distracted in history class by the fraternity guys joking about cops breaking up their party, or why we're told by the campus health clinic that, yes, the most testing they do is for STDs, but that's okay, because we're college students. It won't last forever seems to be the ultimate message, so live it up now before your life, at least your college life, is over.
And through it all I find it funny in a not so humorous way that parents, professors, and most adults tell us to be responsible and look to the future. They don't even realize that the future, life after college, is the one thing that seems to always be there, lurking in the back of our minds.
Selfless Love
I think it endlessly fascinating that Jesus declared the first and greatest commandment to be "Love the Lord your God" and the second "Love your neighbor as yourself" (see Luke 10:27). The first one definitely make sense to me, but the second one is something I often ponder.
The greatest example of selfless love is Jesus' sacrifice. He took the scorn, the spit, the thorns, and the pain so that we might have life. He took the incredible weight of all the world's sin because He loves us.
Parents often say they would do anything for their children, even if it means giving their lives. Couples in love do the same. But what if the person that you are giving your very life for is someone who hates you and ridicules you? That's exactly what Jesus faced, but He gave His life in love no matter.
It's hard to understand a love like that. Even more confusing, how could we ever love like that?
Maybe I'm just strange, but whenever I'm in a group of people, whether in one of my classes waiting for the prof to show up or a line at the grocery store avoiding the Snickers bars, I look around at all the people. There's so much confusion, pain, and insecurity in their faces. Only then I can begin to see where this selfless love comes into play. I can understand what it means to take Jesus and His selfless love to the world.
If not me, then who? Who will dare to be the one to put aside her (or his) own self -- wants, struggles, and all -- to really love others?
It's hard, yes, but I don't ever recall being promised easy.
The greatest example of selfless love is Jesus' sacrifice. He took the scorn, the spit, the thorns, and the pain so that we might have life. He took the incredible weight of all the world's sin because He loves us.
Parents often say they would do anything for their children, even if it means giving their lives. Couples in love do the same. But what if the person that you are giving your very life for is someone who hates you and ridicules you? That's exactly what Jesus faced, but He gave His life in love no matter.
It's hard to understand a love like that. Even more confusing, how could we ever love like that?
Maybe I'm just strange, but whenever I'm in a group of people, whether in one of my classes waiting for the prof to show up or a line at the grocery store avoiding the Snickers bars, I look around at all the people. There's so much confusion, pain, and insecurity in their faces. Only then I can begin to see where this selfless love comes into play. I can understand what it means to take Jesus and His selfless love to the world.
If not me, then who? Who will dare to be the one to put aside her (or his) own self -- wants, struggles, and all -- to really love others?
It's hard, yes, but I don't ever recall being promised easy.
Meditate on Mondays | From Isaiah
On this mountain the Lord Almighty will prepare
a feast of rich food for all peoples,
a banquet of aged wine—
the best of meats and the finest of wines.
On this mountain he will destroy
the shroud that enfolds all peoples,
the sheet that covers all nations;
he will swallow up death forever.
The Sovereign Lord will wipe away the tears
from all faces;
he will remove his people’s disgrace
from all the earth.
a feast of rich food for all peoples,
a banquet of aged wine—
the best of meats and the finest of wines.
On this mountain he will destroy
the shroud that enfolds all peoples,
the sheet that covers all nations;
he will swallow up death forever.
The Sovereign Lord will wipe away the tears
from all faces;
he will remove his people’s disgrace
from all the earth.
The Lord has spoken.
In that day they will say,
“Surely this is our God;
we trusted in him, and he saved us.
This is the Lord, we trusted in him;
let us rejoice and be glad in his salvation.”
we trusted in him, and he saved us.
This is the Lord, we trusted in him;
let us rejoice and be glad in his salvation.”
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