Walking on a Tightrope

Today I was reminded of a life changing conversation I had years ago. At the time  I was 23 and in grad school- rethinking my relationship with God.  I was talking with a Christian friend, more wise that me and he listened intently as I was describing my struggles.  Then he made this observation,  "When I listen to you I get this picture:  I see you walking on a tightrope.  You're in a high wire act at the circus.  That tightrope is your life.  Your job as a Christian is to summon the courage and skill to walk safely across that tightrope from one end to the other.  Sure, God put a safety net under you, but it will still hurt if you fall, even though it won't kill you.  You're way up in the air and everything is up to you."

Sure, I could quote Scriptures that said differently, I had been a Christian for a while.  But what my friend observed was actually what my heart believed.  So- his vision was accurate.  I believed that striving to be good as a Christian was hard.  I was way up in the air and it was scary.  I didn't want to fail and failing was painful- I had done it too many times.  So I learned from my failures that God was not around to help, only forgive.  In the end,   it was all up to me.  I had no sense that God was my companion, just an observer who watched my struggles from beyond earth's horizon.   Yes, I believed that God forgave me, but I still paid a high price for each and every failure.  Being a Christian might be the right way to go, but it was no fun!

When I actually looked at what this meant, I was shocked. I realized that I didn't know the God of the Bible at all. I believed in a different god- one who was demanding, perfectionist, distant and unrelenting.

Immediately I confessed to God that I knew almost nothing of what the Bible teaches about God:  his infinite creativity, his wondrous joy, his tender companionship and his life changing mercy.  Sure I had sat in the lap of the church all my life, but what I learned from the church was not, at all, what the Scriptures taught.  I wanted to know the real God- not the God I had created in my head, not the God that I had been taught to believe.  I asked God to removed this false god from my life, heal my heart and lead me to the "truth that will set you free."  I wanted to know the God who is infinitely creative, imaginative and full of joy.  I want to know the God who stands with me, no matter my faults and whose companionship is eternal.  I want to know the God I see in Jesus.

Since that conversation happened years ago, all of this has happened.  Not that I know all that there is to know about an infinite God.  The more I know, the more I realize I don't know.  I'm standing in a precipice that has no bottom.  I'm staring up into space that is without boundaries.  But I am also coming to experience God's wild embrace that answers the longings of my heart.

I kept noticing the pain in his eyes

Mike and I were sitting across from each other at a table in a busy restaurant.  I wanted the conversation to go at the pace that Mike wanted.  It was his time and he was setting the agenda.  I reached out to Mike because, in a relatively causal conversation, I kept hearing something else in his voice- a testing of the waters;  "Can I trust you?" And I kept noticing the pain in his eyes.  When I suggested lunch,  he eagerly eargerly agreed.

We chatted amicably about easy topics- mostly about food since both of us like cooking for other people.  Our lunch arrived at the table.  He exhaled deeply and gave me this look like, "OK.  I'm ready."  So I asked, "How can I help, Mike?" Then he started with his story.  As I listened, I kept feeling like it was not particularly out of the ordinary- you know, a young guy struggling with porn. So what?  What young man  hasn't?  He saw himself as an occasional addict- every three months or so. "Not too bad," I thought to myself.  He had gone the "accountability" route with very little impact.

Even though he said he knew he was forgiven that didn't seem to matter.  He still felt  condemned and that he felt "seperated from God" when he indulged.  So he tried to push the guilt away and act like it never happened.

The fear in his eyes told me that he was expecting me to get up from the table and walk away.  Instead, I looked straight into his eyes and said, "It doesn't have to be this way."  For me, the real issue was not his occasional indugence in porn, but his incomplete view of God.   He doesn't know that when God forgives the slate is washed clean.  He doesn't know that no how many times he comes to God for forgiveness, God never tires of hearing his cry for help.  He doesn't know that  God accepts him as he is.  He doesn't know that through healing prayer God can heal him of the pain of condemnation.  He doesn't know that God wants to speak truth into his life and help him look at why he needs porn in the first place.  

The church has failed Mike.  Mike grew up in the church but has never really received anything like acceptance and mercy.

I"m no addiction specialist.  I'm just a listening friend.  But maybe this conversation (and those that will follow) might be a starting point.  I doesn't have to be this way, not for Mike or anyone else.