“When I was seventeen my mother said to me ‘don’t stop
imagining; the day that you do is the day that you die’ ”
Those lyrics might.
Rocky Road ice cream was on sale today at Kroger, and it fit
nicely between the tomatoes, spinach wraps, bacon, red grapes, keys, wallet,
and cell phone in my basket. Somewhere between the tomatoes and spinach wraps,
the attractive boy who had been standing in the produce section crossed my
mind, and then somewhere between the Rocky Road and pulling out of the parking
lot, I decided I could be a Jane Austen in marital status and the next J.D. Salinger
in writing status; though, the J.D. Salinger status would be necessary to make
the Jane Austen one tolerable. My point,
you never know what’s going to happen when you put Rocky Road in your shopping
basket.
For all I know, Rocky Road lead to the Youth Lagoon vinyl
purchase at Hastings, the New York Cheesecake frozen yogurt at Chill, the movie
at Carmike Cinemas, and the awesome conversation in the hammock on the back
porch which was lit by strings and strings of hanging lights…
The conversation came to these conclusions:
It’s ok to be mad at God. It’s ok to doubt, to be afraid, to
second guess, to wonder. It’s ok to really find out who He is to you. A relationship with Christ shouldn’t be you
sitting on a pew, hands in lap, head and eyes lowered, mouth sealed tight. It
should be hands and mouth moving, eyes looking, and hell*, if you want to stand
up, stand up.
*I did write “hell.” My conservative background was against
it, but I’ve got Holden Caulfield on mind. I tend to pick up the writing/attitude
of what I’m reading. Plus, if Salinger could dedicate “Catcher in the Rye” and
I quote, “to mother,” with all of its language….well, you get the point.
We’re human, we’re sinners, we make mistakes, and we aren’t
perfect. I don’t want to talk to someone perfect. I want to talk to someone who
understands the sinful nature that I possess. Someone who can look at me, see
my flaws, understand the pain, and offer me comfort through a testimony, a
story, their own heart. I want something
real. We- my friend and I- wanted something real. Isn’t that what Jesus was?
God sent to earth to be broken, made small, and put through humanity’s worst so
that I could know that God knows what it means to be human? So that I could
know Jesus was only Jesus through God, and even so, as part human, his skin broke,
his eyes cried, and he bled. He was angry, happy, lonely, hurt, alone,
abandoned, betrayed…So shouldn’t I feel the same, experience the same, know the
same, nothing more, nothing less? And though He was God, He lowered himself, humbled
himself, and gave of himself? Shouldn’t I do the same, nothing more, nothing
less?
Being a Christian isn’t about believing what your parents believed,
and their parents, and their parents. It’s about discovering who God is to you.
What has he done for you? Who has he made you, is making you, will make you?? I
claim the last name “Ryals” because it was my father’s, but I claim my place as
Christ’s, not because of my father’s faith, but because of my faith. My faith
won’t look like yours or come about like yours because my relationship with
Christ is not yours. It’s mine. It’s His. And we have our own secrets, inside
stories, confessions, and you have yours. I prefer this. I don’t want what we
have to be what you have, if that’s the case, what’s this “relationship” thing
about anyway?? If I wanted something monotonous, I could do something a lot
less challenging, painful, and refining that pursuing Christ.
Being a Christian is challenging, painful, refining, and
sometimes, confusing. Because it’s a daily effort to face human’s demons, grasp
hope and faith, and walk, face set on something beyond yourself.
And if your knees don’t hurt from the falling; you’re back
hurt from carrying; if you’re eyes aren’t crying from seeing the brokenness,
darkness, and hurt; if your heart shows no cracks or signs of duck tape; if your
feet aren’t heavy from the weight of it all; if you don’t know these, you don’t
know me. There’s nothing you can say. There’s nothing you can do. You speak of
Christ, but what has he done? Where are the bandages he gave for your knees,
where are the scars on your heart where he healed it, where are his hand’s
marks on your back and legs from carrying you, and where is the redemption?
I want something real. It doesn’t have to be beautiful,
light, warm, or comfortable, it just has to be real. Your faith means very
little to me if it is anything but, and mine should be the same for you. We are
here to refine one another, teach one another, share with one another, not to
paint on smiles, sugarcoat the uncomfortable, and avoid the hard stuff.
So please, can we just eat some Rocky Road and talk about
who God really is to you? What he is really doing or not doing in your life?
Whether you two are on speaking terms, and how you feel about the whole thing?
Because there are two things that I am known to love, and
that’s ice cream, and long conversations.
