Category: Grace

Death on a Friday

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Today is known by most Christians as Good Friday. I’m still not sure what’s so good about it. We commemorate Jesus’ death on this day. At this point, we’ve spent the last forty days journeying to the cross. This is the moment towards which we’ve been walking. All this talk about suffering and pain and death leads to this one moment: the death of our God. It seems like the culmination of the last forty days ends in this. It ends with the death of all the Good things we thought were going to come our way. It ends with the death of the One who can bring all Good things into existence, breathe them in our direction, grow new things in the universe. God dying is the most infinite form of death I can imagine. And the most terrifying.

I have put my trust into a God that can be killed by human hands. This God can be tortured and humiliated by people just like me. The love and persistence of a God who bears the symbol of a political death is the God I have chosen to follow. This can seem like a mistake at times, like I have made a mistake by following One so foolish. And yet it will seem foolish in two more days when we celebrate a God who rises from the dead. And we celebrate this on April Fool’s this year. I can think of no better way than to experience my faith. Lead me into the time of Lent with Valentine’s day. How romantic. How dreadfully poetic. And then lead me out of Lent and death with a fool’s day. This might be the best church calendar year ever.

Since today is Good Friday (or rather Bad Friday or Sad Friday), I’ve been thinking about death this week. It’s been particularly easy with all the rain and cloudy days we’ve been having. Go figure that the sun is out today. The weather is not making it easy to participate in the somber nature of today. I’m holding death and life in tension today, trying to make sense of both of them, how they fit together, side by side. But I’m also thinking specifically of death. I’m thinking about Trayvon Martin today. I’m thinking about Sandra Bland. I’m thinking about the seven transgender people killed this year already, about Syrian orphans being denied refugee status, about the death and injustice in the world. And this is where God stands next to us shouting “How long? How long will injustice prevail? How long before we stop killing black and brown bodies? How long will queer people still be rejected and trampled upon? When will refugees be welcomed with open arms? When will the violence and hatred end? When will we see the humanity in each and every individual?”

Today is the day that God says, “Me too.”

And that is something in which I can rest.

This is something I can trust.

This is a God I can follow.

A God who says, “Me too” is a God worth my time, worth my effort, worth my attention. This God is One whom I can wrestle with, stand side by side with, and raise my fist against injustice with.

And for this reason, I will mourn God’s death today. I will mourn it tomorrow. And I will sit in the death and sorrow of these two days, waiting for Easter to come. I will wait for God to wake from the grave and say, “Me too, honey. Me too.” And I will be relieved.

Honoring God

Posted in Faith, Grace, LoveLeave a comment

For Christmas, my sweet husband gave me a box filled with a 30 day writing challenge. He knows me well and knows I love writing, but that I have done very little of it lately. So, for day 3, his note prompted me to look into my name and its various meanings, and then to write a story or description about one of those meanings. I found out some new things concerning my middle and last names, but still chose to write about the main meaning of my first name, Timothy, honoring God.  

If you would have asked me ten years ago what it meant to honor God, I would have made you a laundry list of the dos and don’ts of Christianity. I would have said that honoring God could be achieved through ticking off the dos and avoiding the don’ts. Even though I knew that grace comes in the apostrophes of the don’ts and right before you actually start making the list, I would have made it anyway. Even though I knew that grace had to be grander than a simple list because I was told it covered the sheer amount of sins I felt I had committed at the sweet young age of seventeen, I would have made a list anyway. Even though I knew that grace was not mine to give or withhold from myself, I still believed that it wasn’t enough. I believed that honoring God was the only way to receive grace.

But you see, I had it all wrong. And so does Anne Lamott (although I don’t make a habit of disagreeing with Anne Lamott). One of her famous lines is “Grace bats last.” I understand the sentiment that grace covers all. I have found, however, that grace comes first. Grace shows up to the baseball game before we even knew we were going to play. Grace fills the stadium. Grace pours the pitchers of beer and hands out bags of popcorn like it’s going out of style. Grace shows up with foam fingers and rally caps and is ready for the start of the game long before us.

Grace showed up long before we knew we needed Her, and She said, “I love you. I love you. I love you. You are loved. You are loved. You are loved.” Then we look at Her sideways out of the corner of our eyes and try to walk away without drawing too much attention to the weirdo with her ‘I love you’ foam fingers and her ‘You are loved’ rally caps. It’s when we’re in the bottom of the ninth with two outs, the winning run is on base, and you’ve already struck out twice this game that you look to the stadium to see Grace cheering Her heart out. Everything rests of your shoulders and Grace fully believes you can do it. You remember Her smile, her shining eyes, the way she believed you’d be the best all along and that nothing could ever keep Her from seeing that in you.

This is the way grace met me, in my deepest pain, when I thought all was lost. Grace met me and said, “I love you. I love you. I love you. You are loved. You are loved. You are loved.” And something miraculous happened, I started to believe that grace was real. I started to believe that I was worth a life, that this gay man was actually worth something. Grace gave me legs to stand on, gave me vocabulary to begin the journey of self-love. The only way that I know how to honor Grace, to honor God is to be the most fully myself. The most fully gay. The most fully Christian. The most ginger. The most freckle-y. The most outrageous. The most kind. The most loving. Grace anointed me a long time ago. She told me I was loved and worthy of love. And I believed Her. And She wants desperately to do the same for you.