Okay. Let’s you and me get real for a hot minute here.
On the race, we do something called “Feedback”. On a pretty regular basis, we aim to sit down with one another to give and receive honest feedback: How am I doing? How are you doing? Where do I see you growing, maturing, persevering, and succeeding? Where do I have room for improvement? Have I hurt you, intentionally or not? Does reconciliation, conflict resolution, or a good hashing out need to happen? Alright. Let’s go for it.
And even though we set up these parameters, I find myself and my teammates wincing and bracing ourselves for feedback. We soften the blows, under-emphasize mistakes, defend ourselves, and over-personalize the information we’re told. We are quick to derail the conversation so that we can pretend it doesn’t need to happen, or just stuff it down deep and torture each other with passive aggressiveness instead of speaking up. I can describe each of these so accurately because I have done every one of them. That’s actually pretty telling in itself!
We are so afraid of the opinions of others that we allow our brothers and sisters to be dominated by sin, fearing that saying something might cause them to dislike or reject us. We (or shall I say I?) cling so tightly to our own striving and self-righteousness that we are petrified of someone pointing out an area of immaturity or fault in our own lives. It’s as if we’ve completely forgotten the whole foundation of our faith:
WE DIDN’T GET IT RIGHT. WE CAN’T.
So why are we so afraid of weakness and immaturity? I don’t know. It must mean that we have not been set free from the slavery of fear in our minds. Muscle memory in our hearts tell us again and again: Strive. Perform. Hide. Blame. YOUR WEAKNESS IS NOT SAFE HERE.
All the while, we wear cute sterling silver cross jewelry that screams the exact opposite message. This — the massacre of God himself—is what it took. This—the willing sacrifice of an only child—is what had to happen. This— real blood poured out onto the earth from a god-man—is what could break the curse. This. This is what was required for Love to once again conquer the territory of our hearts.
And here we are, across the world in small groups, churches, and team times, trying to pretend we ever had it all together. Bull. Shit. Trying to soften the blow and put up our shields, unwilling to fully surrender to the depths of our desperation for a savior. Pretending that, maybe, we only need Jesus a little bit.
Guys, we’ve blown it. You have. I have. But that is not the point. If we can’t get past that we’ve blown it, though, to walk into the freedom of being totally loved without ever deserving it, then all the more reason we’d better start being honest with each other. Because until we can get real with ourselves, with our maker, and with each other, we are going to be stuck in the insanity of fear. Fear of our own weaknesses, fear of the opinions of others, fear of rejection. And damn it, we’ll put on a good facade on the outside, when God is just waiting for us to stop with the horse and pony show.
I implore you: Cut. The. Crap.
Let’s start asking God to humble our hearts because–Lord knows–we need it. Let’s start being real with each other. Let’s expect, encourage, and make time for hard conversations. Let’s ask questions like, “Do you feel loved by me?” and “What is an area that I don’t yet look or act like Jesus?” and “Do you feel safe to correct me without fearing I’ll withdraw my love?”. We can all grow in this, and I’m ready for us to start. If we say we want to look like Jesus, let’s start asking God what that really means, and allowing him to answer…even if it hurts.
“A person who claims to be in union with God will conduct his life in the same way that Jesus did”
1 John 2:6
