Tales from the Creek

As I sit at the coffee shop surrounded by self-loathing hipsters sipping endlessly their fair trade coffee, I realize Charles Darwin’s On the Origin of Species was completely inaccurate (…says the evangelical Christian. But for the sake of attempted wit, bear with me). We didn’t evolve from apes, we evolved from prairie dogs.

I could go on for days about our similarities with Grassland Fido (and believe me, I will), but for now, I’ll stick to what, at least at this very moment, is the most obvious shared trait.

BAM.

…No, really that’s it.

As reported by the prairie dog experts at Wikipedia.com, prairie dogs “raise their heads from burrows in response to disturbances.” Have you ever SEEN a hipster in a coffee shop? They hunker down in the tan, leather comfy chairs (it’s a technical term) and immerse themselves in “intellectually stimulating literature” in the form fully formed blogs based on partially informed opinions. Meanwhile, enter: irony clad hipster chick (disturbing disturbance). Then, badda-bing-badda-boom, as if mocking their Marmotini brethren, they emerge swiftly from their hipster hole, poking their heads up over the screens of their laptops to, ahem, evaluate the disturbance. Then, after what seems like a lifetime of mouth watering and chick ogling, they retreat back into their burrows, shaken, self esteem no longer intact.

The entire cycle takes only minutes to complete, if that, and is likely to occur more than once (often times spurred by only the sound of an opening door). CSPD (coffee shop prairie dogging. Use that in a text message) is not reserved only for male hipsters. No, in fact, CSPD is neither gender, nor social circle specific and can strike during any public gathering. So familiarize yourself with the symptoms and climates in which CSPD may occur, because once you go prairie, you never go……………………………………………………………………………………..

…………………………………………………………………………………………

…. Dairy. Eh, I tried.

Ah, Mardi Gras. The time of year Facebook is atwitter (and Twitter is afacebook) with gold gilded statuses of self sacrifice. Meat, sugar, starch, kumquat; if you can name it, circumstantial Christians across the country are giving it up. But why? Is it self denial in hopes of a closer relationship with God? Or a convenient excuse to “righteously” serve ones’ own interests?

And when you fast, don’t make it obvious, as the hypocrites do… But when you fast, comb your hair and wash your face. Then no one will notice that you are fasting, except your Father, who knows what you do in private. And your Father, who sees everything, will reward you. —Matthew 6:16-18

Ouch. Posting Lenten sacrifices on Facebook is as obvious as it gets. Yeah, yeah it’s absolutely possible for statuses (stati?) of this nature to aid in ministry, but let’s not kid ourselves. That’s not why we post them. We want praise. We want admiration. We want recognition in the form of a “like.” But at the root of the problem is our lack of self-esteem, or God esteem, rather, out of which we yearn for other Christians to feel inferior to us and our godly actions. Don’t get me wrong, there’s a time and place for sharing for the sake of accountability, but if it takes 500+ Facebook friends to keep us in check, then we seriously need to evaluate the conditions of our hearts. So keep your fast to yourself. Don’t let your right molars know what your left molars are doing.

Now, most Lenten sacrifices revolve around food. Extreme circumstances a la My 600lb Life aside, baked goods aren’t keeping you from communion with the Lord. So why are you giving it up? Is it the “shiny” that distracts you from Jesus? Personally, I can say no. Instead of tearing down the biggest walls separating me from Jesus, I made egocentric sacrifices with worldly perks. But I was missing the point. Subtracting food without adding Jesus completely nullifies Lent. So, instead of complaining about how hard your fast is, or finding an alternative for what you’ve sacrificed, re-allot your dependency on food (or anything, for that matter) to Jesus, and he will use your weakened state to draw you nearer to Him.

I guess all I’m really trying to say is examine your motives, and sacrifice the things that keep you from glorifying God. Because the fulfillment you experience from a smaller pair of jeans isn’t even a drop in the bucket compared to the fulfillment you receive from full dependency on Christ.

I live in this odd place where I’m nostalgic for situations I never experienced.

I thrive on anticipation; my entire life revolves around the possibility that someday, somewhere, with someone, something might happen. And that’s all kosher. Until the anticipation begins to outweigh the actuality.

What is, is never as good as what could be. What could be holds infinitely more appeal than what is. And that’s a dangerous place to be. Because it creates and cultivates the insatiable desire for an inexplicable SOMETHING. For this “it” experience that triggers this “it” emotion. And I’m sorry, but that scares the SHIT out of me. Because while my worst fear may be settling, I set myself up to do nothing BUT settle.

All I ever want is to “feel that way again,” when “that way” is just a figment of my imagination; something I cooked up minutes, months, and years after the fact whose sole purpose is to impose an impossible standard on the future.

I wish this post had a resolution, but for that to be the case, my problem would have to have a solution. And, at least for now, I don’t know what that is.

I am chock-full of shortcomings. My hypocrisy knows no bounds. But I HAVE to get this off of my chest. You can only give so much—

I’m sorry, but just because someone is welcomed into the Body of Christ does not mean you stop treating them like a person.

Where is your generosity?!

Where is your exhortation?!

Where is your encouragement?!

These things aren’t bait. They’re not pretty little pictures you use to “lure” people to Jesus. What happens after fish swallow bait? Oh yeah, they get stabbed in the throat by the well camouflaged hook. You are the hook.  

Where is your sincerity?

If you don’t mean it, don’t say it. If you don’t care, don’t pretend you do. 

I am sick and tired of watching you prance around, waving your little Christian flag as you simultaneously spit in the face of anyone who isn’t “serving like a good Christian should.”

When do you start serving?

When do you put yourself on the line?

When do you inconvenience yourself for the good of someone else?

Step up! Grow up! Stop talking about being a Christian and start behaving like one! Because, honestly, if you didn’t tell me (on a daily basis) that you are a servant of Christ, I would have NO idea that you are.

Read and apply before this gets deleted.

There’s a line in one of my favorite Chariot songs that goes something along the lines of, “If no one hears you will you still want to sing?” It got me thinking.

Do you know that person who loves to talk about their good deeds? It’s never in a bragging fashion, of course; over the years they’ve gotten much too good at slipping in their noble accomplishments, effortlessly finding a way to relate their “passions for humanity” to the burnt grilled cheese you made yourself for lunch. But they’re the kind perched high atop the pedestal they built with selfish intentions. The kind that moves through a room full of people, scoping out circles in which they can rob the conversation and reap pity like a summer harvest, all while pumping you and their soon-to-be apostles full of intravenous charm in hopes of anesthetizing you just enough to dull the sensitivity of your B.S. detector and throw you off their trail. They’re the ones skilled at passing themselves off as victims, convincing you the world around them just doesn’t understand and that their friends are too self interested to care (Beware the empathetic guilt trip. They’ll dupe you into feeling sorry for the alleged crimes of others, and coax you into picking up the slack).

Be honest. You know the ones.

So I ask you this: Why can we not help but feed the big, bad ego monster of the shameless attention hoarder? They sing to be heard. They sing to be praised. They sing in hopes inspiring someone else’s song. But if we stop listening, stop praising, and stop singing covers, can’t we stop facilitating their perpetual self interest? Truth is, I don’t know. But I do know being double cast as cover band and audience must get exhausting, so it HAS to be worth a shot.

I’m starting this bad boy because I have opinion induced stage fright and am incapable of accurately converting thoughts into words… So consider this a last ditch effort to cultivate the slightest trace of eloquence. Granted, I’ve yet to kiss the Blarney Stone, but I’ve seen that method fail one too many a time to count it as a probable antidote for my ailment.

I am wholly and unabashedly in love with Jesus Christ. I try my darnedest to live my life to bring Him glory, but if there’s one constant in my life, it’s that I fail at that miserably. Thankfully, I’ve been ransomed by the blood of Christ, and I guess that’s really the only thing worth writing about.

I like a few things, and dislike everything else. There’s grey area for Chuck Norris and Greek yogurt and a few other things whose ability to strike my fancy ebbs and flows on an hourly basis, but on the whole, I’m not one for tepid opinions.

So… Welcome to my cyber soapbox. Let the blogging begin!