Someone asked me yesterday why we need to share the gospel -- which is a terrific question, the answer to which was so taken for granted in my church of origin that I had never really considered it and subsequently went a little deer-in-headlights before responding.
Because I really don't like discussing religion with people unless they already agree with me, to be honest. And, okay, I get that the trendy thing not is to be spiritual, not religious, and I sympathize with that impulse, particularly since I feel like Christians are kind of representing ourselves really poorly right now. Often, I talk to people who don't like Christianity and I end up thinking, well, you're right. To a large degree, Christianity has just been subsumed into consumer culture, warping itself into an ugly prosperity gospel about which I don't want to elaborate because I've certainly got enough weaknesses when it comes to managing my finances, but suffice it to say that I really don't think Christ is going to be looking around at New York City, past the mind-boggling, nauseating class disparity, and single out only those whose $12 mimosas are being served up by fabulous model-slash-waiters in Chelsea.
More relevant, and less comfortable, is the reality that I'm not a "good" Christian. I say this not to beat myself up but because I think self-esteem that is built on an unsubstantiated premise is useless. The list of things that I need to pray over, because I get all ugly, sardonic, and unloving whenever they come up, is embarrassingly long, and the degree to which I allow that ugliness to color my behavior and interfere with my accurately reflecting what God does in my life when I can just shut up about TFA for two seconds, is -- to steal a phrase from Anne Lamott -- enough to make Jesus want to drink gin straight out of the cat dish.
I'm a mess, and I always think I'm going to do better and that when I do -- when I can complete a single thought or prayer without being like, really, Bloomburg/North Carolina/ Michelle Rhee? Really? -- then I'll be in a position to share the gospel. In fact, I might even be so awesome that I won't have to, you know, tell people about Jesus and risk alienating them, or revealing myself for the hypocrite that I often feel I am.
And to be honest, I have doubts, like a lot of people probably do, and there are times when I'm like, well, what if I'm just imagining all this, and Christ isn't real, and I devote my life to "sharing" something with people that's not true?
But.
Here's what is real: my life is fundamentally different when I open it to God. Different in the sense that instead of wasting it feeling sorry for myself, sleeping with people I hate because I am angry, starving myself to prove a point no one really understands, or alientating people in an effort to feel in control, I feel like things are okay. I feel cared for, like I have worth, like the things I do have meaning.
I understand that other people find and articulate senses of purpose and self-worth that they don't derive from an experience of God, or Christ. I don't know what's going on with those people and I can't speak to their experience. But I do know my own: apart from God, any efforts to believe the world is okay are just words to me, an extremely well-written seminar paper the thesis of which I never really found convincing myself, or a clever, tightly-constructed personal statement for law school, when I don't want to be a lawyer.
However self-conscious I am using this phrase, my relationship with God is ultimately the most enriching part of my life, even though I often suspect I bring very little to this relationship. It casts a kind of light on the other things that are important to me and coaxes me to loosen the terrified death grip in which I tend to hold them. And while I wish I had better words and a better life to back them up, I do think the grace I have experienced, and the God through whom I received it, is worth articulating.
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