Receiving Grace

When I sat down at lunch to discuss the current state of my life-group I didn't anticipate talking much about myself. Upon being asked to give a little summary of my life I found clarity for questions I've been pondering for the last two years. Re-baptism has been on my mind. You see I was baptized while still in elementary school and have recently been wondering if its validity holds in my adult life. Since childhood I've certainly been "working out" my faith. Finally, after years of a riding the waves of spirituality, going up and down, my life constantly in flux I resolved that I would take my spiritual life seriously. Let me back up a bit.

At birth I was loved by two Christian parents, my dad was in seminary and by the time I had two younger sisters I knew we were Christians. So at the ripe age of five I realized that I too needed Jesus. I wore ridiculous shirts with edgy messages of truth to school (i.e. Can't take the heat? Stay outta hell!). When my sister announced she was getting baptized I figured I should too. "Why not?" was really the question. It seemed right; I was following the steps of being a Christian. I was baptized, by my father, at age ten. Then once in junior high I was in a private Christian school. My sixteenth birthday was celebrated on the mission field in Mexico. My life appeared very Christian. But when I finished high school I had already been living on my own for a year and was figuring out who I was as a young adult. One night I found myself making out with a boy from work; I was in shock. "I'm a Christian! How could this happen?"

My confusion led to anger and to more wandering than wondering. As I tried to pursue Jesus, the temptation to go after other men grew increasingly difficult. The years in university proved to be more polarizing than any. Bouncing between church clubs and gay clubs I constantly tried to validate both sides of me, the mystic and cognizant. It never worked. The two were constantly butting heads until I finally surrendered, again and again.

Over the past few years the war within me has subsided and it's easier for my fleshly side to surrender thus giving the spiritual more power. Jesus said a man can't serve two masters and while he was talking about God and money the point remains. As I learn to be a man who is becoming grounded in the word, in prayer, and in action the Lord gives new life and purpose for me. Where I'm at at now isn't a place of nirvana but it's where I've longed to be for so terribly long. Involved in a solid church community, reading the Bible, praying with others, and serving for the growth of God's kingdom on earth. Now that I'm actually living out my convictions the thought to get baptized into this lifestyle almost seems right. However, today I realized that this journey over the past few years is merely a chapter, an extension of what was started long ago.

Before I was born God was working out my story. It was no surprise to him when at five I "accepted Jesus in my heart", when I was baptized, or when I went on my first mission trip. The Lord wasn't waiting for me to do those things. He also knew I would mess up, that I'd hook up with boys and question if his own existence even mattered. God wasn't sitting by hoping I'd believe him; he wasn't dismissing my faith or pursuit of him when I sinned. He was certainly grieved, but he continued to seek me. The fact that God finally got a hold me isn't a testament of my faithfulness, but of his! So getting baptized again wouldn't be the right response, because that would indicate that my salvation was somehow based on my own actions rather than salvation being a gift from God. I'm a work in progress for which God knows the beginning and the end. My ups and downs don't change how he perceives me; they certainly may cloud my own judgment but not his.

The words from Everlasting by Hillsong come to mind:

A thousand times I've failed
Still your mercy remains
And should I stumble again
Still I'm caught in your grace

Urbana

During the advent season leading up to Christmas I heard a sermon on joy. "True joy that comes from the Lord doesn't change based on the current circumstances at hand." At least, that's the idea or goal anyway. For the past few of weeks I've been wrestling with that idea. Firstly, I question what it looks like to be that connected with our God. The God who made the world and everything in it. He brings in the surf, sets the seagulls to soar, and the snow to mingle slowly down to earth. He sends the breeze through the grass and the earth to orbit around the sun. He does it all. The thought alone of being in union with the divine is daunting. Stopping before my mind explodes at the vastness of an infinite and timeless God I have to pause. How do I identify with him amidst such greatness? This doesn't even begin to skim the surface. Simply, God is so much more than I can grasp; that is okay. Secondly, how do I go about receiving joy from this everything-God? For me right now I can say that it's because of God that I have joy; I can choose joyfulness instead of bitterness, instead of anger or irritability. Despite any circumstantial problem I want to be able to see God's goodness in all things, and thus, my response will be joy--maybe even constantly choosing it.  

While at Urbana this past week I experienced something completely unexpected. As I set up my recruiting booth I thought I recognized a friend. So as to not draw attention to myself I stood some distance away studying his face. It had been quite a few years since I had seen him so I neared closer to casually walk by him, hoping to get a glance at his name tag. Yet, before I was close enough to read it I saw his face light up when he saw me. Neither of us knew the other was attending the conference and the sheer joy made me well up with tears as I hugged my brother. Seeing him was not a coincidental run-in. His participation was a testament to his faithfulness in following the Lord, our presence demonstrated God's providence to keep us within his flock. Filled with shouts of joy and laughter our reunion was quickly cut short due to the hectic schedules we both had that day. As it was New Years Eve the celebration reverberated with the praise songs of sixteen-thousand people. Driven to find my buddy again before my flight left the next morning I convinced a security guard to let me down onto the floor. Then as volleyed like a pinball from one guard to another I found my way to his section. Again we embraced, we sang and danced, and finally we prayed. Something very strange happened, I felt compelled to kiss him. As we closed the prayer he beat me to it kissing my cheek; I responded likewise. 

Despite the wonderful opportunities I've had to live abroad I'm still very North American in showing affection, especially when in the USA. Perhaps traveling to India or living in Turkey prepared me to reach a level of comfortability to affirm my deep love for another man in an absolutely healthy way. More than chalking it up to some expat experience I attribute this growth to the work of Christ. As I'm growing up, Jesus is making himself known to me. I'm starting to release the constrains that I had once put on myself, that I had let society label me with, and rest in knowing I am a man cleansed in the death of Christ and living through his life.