Original Source | Thrive 80
Hello, I’m a hypocrite.
I go to church.
I’ve been going since I was a kid. Always loved it. I’m involved in tons of different ministries – I play piano on the worship team, I work with the young men, I’m in a small group Bible study. I dress up too, you know, for God. Well, not really for God. I like to look good, and I think I match shirts and ties pretty well. It’s important to look good on Sunday mornings. If people knew what the week was like, then I’d really have to put up with a lot. They might actually want to know more, and I’m not quite ready to let people in that far. I don’t want them to know that the reason I’m so tired Sunday morning is that I stayed up late looking at porn, or about the lying at work that I feel so guilty about. Or the fact that I’m seriously reconsidering whether I made a good choice marrying my spouse. That stuff… it’s just, you know, too deep. What would they think? I prefer the shallow stuff – I don’t want to let them in on my mess. Sometimes I wonder if I should even go to church at all and run the risk of something deep coming up in conversation. But if I don’t go, people would wonder.
I can hold my own in theological conversations.
Heck, I even bring up theology in social settings. I went to Bible college. I’ve built up a repertoire of phraseology, gestures, analogies, and logical arguments by which I nail my opponents to the floor in any debate about substitutionary atonement. These help me hide my insecurity and fears that I’m not good enough, that I won’t match up to expectations, that people will see what’s really inside me. My knowledge and quick tongue help to soothe my wounded ego when people aren’t paying enough attention to me. They also let people know that I’m firm in my faith. I mean, if they knew the doubts that run circles in my head at night, the fears that maybe I’m not truly saved, the debates in my gut about sin and punishment… Where’s the self-respect in that? How are people going to respect me at all if I’m truthful about my beliefs (or lack thereof)? I don’t know, studying theology just makes me question God more. Which won’t work. I’m a Bible student – people expect me to have answers, not questions.
I raise my hands in worship when the Spirit is moving.
I mean, I kind of wish I knew the difference between the Spirit and some kind of manufactured tingle. But that’s not the biggest issue. I guess I have a tendency to think a lot about the musicians up on stage, and how I could do so much better. I mean, if I was playing the piano up there right now, you’d be hearing much more musical stuff. I was trained in it. I was top in my class. Two-hundred people came to my senior recital. She’s not doing it good enough; in fact, I’m pretty sure God would be glorified so much better if I was playing. And leading. Seriously, who picked that song? Don’t they realize the theological inconsistencies? The chords are so simple a child could play it, and the rhythms are so screwy a Juilliard-trained percussionist couldn’t follow it. Well, the least I can do is fulfill my responsibility to worship even if the musicians stink.
I love my family.
God says to love them, right? The person who doesn’t love his family is worse than a pagan, and I’m definitely not one of those. I get angry sometimes. I yell sometimes. I say mean things. But most of the time I’m cool with them and they’re cool with me. I don’t think too much about it – I mean, I live with them, so they know I love them. Besides, if people knew about the grudges I hold, the demeaning things I say about my wife when I’m out with my buddies (all in jest, of course!), the difficulty I have with my thoughts when I hang out with that girl at work… Well, let’s just say they might try to help me. I don’t want them to know. I can handle it on my own. I want to handle it on my own, at least. It’s… kind of harder that way, I guess, but at least no one knows that I struggle.
I pray and read the Bible.
You know, this part of the Christian life is still a mystery to me. People always say they get so much out of the Bible, that they feel a real connection when they pray. I don’t. The New Testament is so radical sometimes; the Old Testament is just confusing. I usually stick to the Epistles and the Psalms - they make more sense and I feel good about those. I can usually sync those books with my life (takes some wrangling sometimes, but so do the sermons on Sunday morning). And prayer – I must admit, I doubt sometimes that it actually does anything. Not that I do it enough to know. I’m too used to feeling like nothing will get done unless I do it myself.
I live a consistent lie.
I’ve been living in places where it’s not okay to share my deepest fears and struggles because… well, what would people think? My reputation matters to me – and not just because of my pride, but because I really do want to give God a good showing, to not disappoint Him. But maybe even that is because of my pride. I sometimes doubt that God is powerful enough to clean up all the mess I’ve made of my life, but I guess when it comes down to it, I doubt myself even more. That’s why I live a lie. Because I can’t stand myself – I’m not good enough, deep down I know that. All my life I’ve had these expectations of myself, whether impressed on me by others or just buried in the darkest parts of my inner being. And those expectations cripple me so that the ways I present myself become crutches to hold up my reputation in the midst of all those perfect believers out there. All those people who look like they have it good, who never seem to struggle, who never talk about their issues.
Just like me.
But what would happen if we did, huh? Dragging all that mess into the light would be painful, devastating, difficult. My reputation would be ruined, my porn addiction and anger issues and near-infidelity would be exposed for all to see. What about my position in the church? What about my job? What about my life, the way I want it, the way I see it, the way I expect it to happen? No, coming into the light is too hard. If that’s what it takes for Jesus to help me out, I don’t want it. I can fix everything. And then maybe, when it’s all fixed… than maybe I can actually have real relationships. Then maybe I can love people like I really do want to love them. Then maybe I’ll be strong enough. Then maybe I’ll be fulfilled.
If that ever happens.
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