Human-ness

"Why have we institutionalized our feelings and left ourselves to grieve alone behind closed doors....It is almost like we have tried to reverse the incarnation. Jesus, who was fully divine, took on the form of humanity and was not 'out of touch with our reality' (Hebrews 4:15, The Message). We, in our pursuit of the divine, have too often forgotten to be fully human."

"Our cliched words and actions will never bring the soothing and healing virtue of a sensitive human heart, itself touched by the unanswerable questions that surround death and dying."

"Weeping is a doorway to a pathway of healing that no amount of words or advice or sermonizing could ever accomplish."

"We don't do well at grieving in North America. We have so sanitized death and its aftermath that we have forgotten how to 'weep with those who weep.'"

The above quotes are from a book titled, "In Search of the Church," by Douglas Hagey. One of his chapters deals with grieving, death, loss. Through stories of raw pain, he shows how in his experience the church does a poor job of mourning and helping others mourn. I completely agree.

I have not been touched with the loss and pain of death, so I will not pretend to understand. However, I want to expand this emptiness and numbness of our western culture to include more of life than grieving. Our culture is one that prides itself in independence and freedom. But what is the price? Our culture is one that masks and hides in the comfort of our white picket fences, not wanting others to see the reality of the lives we are truly living. We are becoming disconnected from each other. Kind of ironic in a world that is becoming ever more global.

As I was reading and pondering these thoughts, I was sitting on one of the most manicured backyards I have visited. Beautiful colors from all sorts of flowers and bushes made the backyard into a little paradise. Not too much like the "mess" in the garden where the Holy Spirit is working in the modern parable, "The Shack". A wooden fence closes in the backyard, keeping this little paradise hidden from the world beyond. What is in that world? Well immediately a small unkempt clump of trees and brush. Not very aesthetically appealing. But in a strange way it was attractive, real, exposed.

Why do we try to hide what is really happening in our lives? In the inner most? What is so terrifying of letting someone in, past the peripheral, past the everyday, and into our hearts? We find this in the Jewish Scriptures, what I am trying to use to refer to the Christian Old Testament. The Jewish Scriptures tell story after story of real people, naked, vulnerable, real. maybe that is why they have such appeal. Maybe that is why some in the scholarly world are questioning their validity.

The modern followers of God have not continued this tradition. Instead, we have created "unspoken" prayer requests so as to not reveal too much. When we do reveal, it is more in the vain of gossip that in love. We love to get the inside scoop on what is happening with people, don't we. Not to love them and care for them, but merely for curiosity sake. Or for a future opportunity to hold it over them. The very people of God walk around like they have it all together. The very ones that should know better.

What is holding us back from exposing ourselves to others? Do we really enjoy masquerading around hurting and dying inside? Are we really that naive to think the guy sitting next to us has it together? Or are we so full of pride that we want to appear better than they are? We need to wake up and realize that we are all human. All of us. Very little is separating the lawyer from the criminal, the CEO from the sweatshop worker, the slave owner from the slave. We are all human and all have the same fears, the same dreams, the same questions. What keeps one person up all night is the same reason another drinks himself to sleep. When we begin to realize the impact of this, then we can start to open up and disclose what is truly in our hearts.

It is then that we will be able to weep with those that weep and rejoice with those that rejoice.

It is then that we will actually care about the guy walking next to us on the street instead of trying to push them out of our way.

I have always liked the rawness of life. It has gotten me into many an awkward situation. Being real puts people at edge, they don't know how to relate to you. Sometimes, it allows others the freedom to tell their story, sometimes it doesn't. But I wouldn't have it any other way. I love sharing my story of where God has brought me from and where I am now. I am not ashamed, though others are. I do not try to hide or censor God's work in me, for it is His story.

In the same way I enjoy hearing God working in others. I love to talk to people that are transparent and honest about the ugliness inside of them. Maybe that is why I love working and hanging out with those that have been on the bottom of life. Those that have hit the bottom, those that know the horrors that they are capable of are a different sort of breed. They tell it like it is. They don't shy away from sharing their story or digging into yours.

I lost the coherency of this blog a long time ago. But maybe that is why I have kept writing. Letting you see me loose and rambling. I love to read people that ramble. James Alexander Langteaux, Donald Miller, and others are among my favorite authors. They are gut wrenching honest and funny. They shock you with their honesty, yet you walk away comforted and empowered. Like you want to pour out your soul to them too, or to anyone who just happens to walk into the room.

Meeting and conversing with those that are real, and honest, and transparent opens you up to what it means to finally be human. We can retire our masks. We can tear down the walls we have built to keep others out or us in. We can quit playing games to see who is the better person. The answer, the poor Innocent children who die before they have the chance to add their own mess to the world. Those are the ones who are better. Those are the ones who we are trying to impress. But they will never know. So why do we continue in our madness. Are we that insane to think that we have better lives because of all the toys we work so hard to get? Or do we secretly know we are fooling ourselves so we keep accumulating wealth in order to numb ourselves into thinking that we are better? And what are we better than anyway? Really?

The questions go on and on, until the day we expose ourselves and find our self in the engulfing pit of despair called human-ness. It is there that we begin to come alive and free. It is there that we begin to grow and mature into the realm of the real. It there that I want to live and breath. But one can only survive in this place with the help of community. So I invite you into the real. Is it safe? Are you kidding? It is the most dangerous place imaginable. But then again, we can't live in the comfort of the womb forever.

Oh, and it is here that we finally meet God.