"X + Y = Z. If you know the value of one of the letters, you know something. If you know the value of two, you can probably figure out the whole thing. If you don't know the value of any, you don't know much.
Preachers tend to forget this. 'Accept Jesus Christ as your personal Lord and Savior and be saved from your sins,' or something like that, has meaning and power and relevance only if the congregation has some notion of what, humanly speaking, sin is, or being saved is, or who Jesus is, of what accepting him involves.
If preachers make no attempt to flesh out these words in terms of everyday human experience (maybe even their own) but simply repeat with variations the same old formulas week after week, then the congregation might just as well spend Sunday morning at home with the funnies."
About 4 years ago as newlyweds, Justin and I started going to a couples’ small group in hopes of finding a faith community where we could be ourselves. Everyone was really nice, but we struggled to get past the language barrier sometimes. Everything felt familiar, and yet, so bizarre. Déjà vu-ey.
One of the most awkward moments came one day when our group’s leader asked Justin what the purpose of marriage is. Justin’s usually a pretty private dude, so the depth of his answer surprised me. “Um, I think it’s a lot of things: companionship, a support system, encouraging each other’s dreams, love, having grace for each other, growing as an individual as well as together...”
Our leader replied, “Well, I think it’s about Jesus.”
Boom! Things have just gotten spiritual, people! About Jesus. It was clear our leader thought his answer was very different than Justin’s while I thought they were the same.
Another person chimed in with a breezy, “Marriage is for the glorification of God.”
I was curious what they meant, so I asked. I received blank looks in response. It felt like everyone in the room knew what X was, except me. I felt more alienated than ever — maybe I’d have been better off with the funnies.
***
This probably wouldn’t bother me all that much, except that during my church insider days I’m sure I said plenty of X-ish sorts of things without ever thinking much about it. Worse, as a church intern/worship leader, I had a microphone in my hand much of the time.
Ouch.
Even as I’m quick to cringe these days at church-speak, I’m haunted by the painful awareness that at times I reduced the vast mysteries of God’s mercy to some clichéd Christian catch-phrase.
I didn’t do it on purpose — no one does — I did it because it was comfortable. I used the words that everyone else used. Only problem was that none of us knew what they meant anymore, least of all me. The truth behind the words — good words like “grace” and “salvation” and “worship” — remained elusive.
Going beyond X and Y — putting stumbling words to our messy, murky, very human journey of faith and doubt — well, that’s a lot more vulnerable than most of us are willing to get a lot of the time. But if ever something was needed, it’s this kind of grappling with what we mean by these sacred words we use.
Yeah, it’s risky. We sound a lot less sure of ourselves. It doesn’t always make for a nicely-packaged Sunday sermon.
But for the folks who show up to Sunday morning or to small group or to a coffee shop or to a bar to feel comfortable enough to share their own messy words, we have to go there.
For my friends — who have heard an awful lot of X or worse — I have to go there.
My 3-month-old Asher will someday ask me who Jesus is and why he matters. If ever there was a thought that keeps me trying to learn how to talk about faith authentically, that’s it.
Beyond all that, I need to keep striving to know what X means for myself. I may never reach a place where I can use all the right words to explain it, and I’ll probably make a fool out of myself many times over. But the clichés aren’t enough, they never were, and I find these wobbly new conversations infinitely more satisfying.
So . . . what are some of the things you’ve either said, or heard others say, that could use a little fleshing out? Ready, go.
About the Writer:
Stacey Lawlis lives near Seattle with her partner-in-crime Justin and their sweet boy, Asher. During naptime, she moonlights as a copywriter and web designer. She is fascinated by Jesus, true love, motherhood, Wilco, ketchup, and Starbucks — and is happy to have a rambly conversation about any of those things anytime. http://lawlisness.com