I have to confess that when I was in
high school, I was not very nice to the church kids. In fact, I would go so far
as to say that I was antagonistic.
I hadn’t been raised in Church, so
while there was respect for God in a general sense—our religion was more
blue-collar work ethic and liberal politics. We really only ever made it to
church when I started wearing weird dark clothes and listening to loud music…
(I guess not a whole lot has changed.)
The fact is that I didn’t like how
cliquish these people were; I didn’t like how they treated other people; and I
especially didn’t like that they seemed just too sacrosanct to have anything to
do with anyone who wasn’t part of their group. I’m sure none of you knows
anyone like that…
Needless to say, then, I wanted about as much
to do with their God as I did with them… So, like I said, I wasn’t very nice.
Well, as all of you have probably
figured out, God has quite a sense of humor. And at some time toward the end of
high school, I found myself going to church and even getting something out of
it.
Before long
Before long, I was accepted by the
church kid group that I had previously antagonized (y’know, I felt guilty). We
were starting Bible studies, and all kinds of different stuff. And while I was
accepted by this group, and I was enjoying being a Christian—the thing that
always bothered me was that I couldn’t understand why no one ever thought to
tell me about God before.
I mean, these were people who were
supposed to have known God very well. They had a personal relationship with
Jesus Christ. Sure they handed me plenty of tracts, but no one really ever told
me anything about God. What’s even more, they never told me why knowing God
even mattered.
To be fair, I suppose any of us might be at a loss for words if we
were asked why God mattered. Especially when the question is more personal—not
just something about how we like God because creation is pretty, or something
like that. Not to say that there is anything wrong with being amazed by
Creation. Certainly our reading from Isaiah offers a sweeping and beautiful
vision of Creation, and God as transcendent above all of it.
But it also understands the more
finite aspects of God and humanity as well. That personal element that St. Paul
infers in his letter to the Corinthians.
He explains
He explains that to those outside the
law, he became as one outside the law. To the weak he became weak. He even goes
so far to say that he became all things to all people. And if we’re to believe
this, that Paul is not disingenuous about being all of these things—then we can
only assume that what he means is that he opened those parts of himself to
others that his message could be communicated.
So, to those under the law, Paul
admitted his legalism. To the weak, Paul shared his own weakness; and for all
other people and types—Paul needed only consider those things in himself and be
honest.
For Paul, I suppose meeting some of
these different types of people was kind of like having a mirror held up to
him. If he was going to offer the transformative message of the gospel, he
needed to know why it mattered—not just to those he was speaking to, but why it
mattered to him.
And I’m willing to bet that when Paul
put himself in that frame of mind (seeing aspects of himself in others), it was
less a matter of becoming like them—it was coming to the realization that he
was one of them.
Simply put
Simply put, he was legalistic, he was
weak, and he was all of those other things that were supposed to be red flags
for religious people. And because he knew the need for transformation in Christ
in himself, he knew how important it was for others to be given the chance to
hear the transformative gospel of Jesus.
Whatever you may think of St. Paul,
what I love about his ministry is that he told people about who he was—where
he’d come from. Sure, he had a keen theological mind, and an amazing grasp of
Roman and Jewish culture. But the power of his preaching was rooted in his
ability to help others connect the dots by sharing the meaning and experiences
he had with God.
So for the people he preached to,
they got a glimpse of who Paul was, and they were able to connect to him and
trust him. This allowed them to accept what he said, not just because he was
slick and charismatic—not because he had all the answers, but because he knew
what it was like to experience the love of God when he really needed it.
It almost sounds too simple, doesn’t
it? I mean, at the risk of sounding a little Evangelical, if sharing the Gospel
of Jesus is as simple as telling people we trust and who trust us why God
matters—then why does it seem like such a hard thing to do?
The truth is
The truth is, the longer I’ve been in
the Church the tougher it gets to share my own faith. This is especially true
since becoming an Episcopalian. You know, faith to us is something that is very
private—it’s kind of like shopping for underwear with your mother. You’re never
really all that comfortable, but you know you gotta do it.
But the thing that draws honest
spiritual connection from me is when I get to know people. It’s when I’m made
aware of my inability to say anything clever, or catchy, and I’m left only able
to tell someone why God matters to me. Often it’s a chance for self-deprecating
fun, but as long as God shines through—I’m completely alright with that. In the
end it’s the honesty and the connection that makes the difference. Besides,
people are getting a skewed enough view of Church and religion. A little
honesty might go a long way.
So why does
God matter to you? What keeps you coming back to participate in the mysteries
of the sacraments? What keeps bringing you back to be with people with whom you
might otherwise have no other connection?
If we can’t answer it for ourselves, how can we answer it for
others?
St. Paul says
St. Paul says that by having the
knowledge and gift of the gospel he has an obligation—a responsibility to share
it. When I think of how messed up I am and how much I really need God; I can
imagine that there are other people just as messed up and just as in need as I
am. I think that alone is obligation enough for me to share with people why God
matters.
That’s not to say that I’m out to
convert people; that’s God’s work. So, if sharing the gospel is about being
honest and connecting to people—maybe it’s not as awkward as shopping for
underwear with mom after all. However it is something we have to do.
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