Deceit, by M

I have a confession to make: ever since the news broke of the Colorado movie massacre last week, I have been totally hooked on reading the news articles about it. Like, I think I might need an intervention. I seem to have an unhealthy intrigue about the entire situation.

There is very much that can be said about the tragedy, and especially much that has to do with theology. I doubt I’m the only one who has been increasingly thinking and pondering questions of good and evil over the past few days. That said, I consider myself grossly under-qualified to tackle any of these questions, especially in a forum other than the one inside my own head. So, while my thoughts are swirling with "why?s," "how could he?s" and "what if?s"… I will keep those to myself.

Another question has been brought to light recently, however, and it is this… "Why am I drawn to learn so much about this?" Seriously. Why am I like a moth to this tragedy’s lamp? What does that say about me and my heart?

Upon reflection, I’ve realized that this is not an isolated circumstance, either. I realize that my middle school fascination with the Holocaust falls into the same camp, as does my college-age obsession with reading Caringbridge sites, as does my desire to click on any and all facebook pages that say "Praying for… so and so" or "RIP so and so." It’s like I just need more information. I need to know what exactly happened and, if I can figure it out, why.

Is this all making me sound like a creepy person? Probably. But I know that I’m not the only one who feels this way and reads these things.

So I’m talking to my BF last night, and as he starts to stage the aforementioned intervention, I find myself trying to explain or defend my attraction to this information. I admit that while exposing myself to such details of evil and brokenness surely amps up my daily level of fear… these articles also weirdly allay my fear in the moment. I realize that I gain a feeling of control over my life and my health when I read and process all the details of these tragedies, health crises, and disasters. Something tells me that knowing the details of whatever-it-may-be will somehow help me avoid or prevent it from happening in my own life.

Yet, that is a GIANT lie, isn’t it? More, it is a compilation of lies – that we can control our fate, that we can know when or how we die, that we can remotely attempt to change God’s path for us. This thinking suggests that God can’t be trusted to either protect us from harm or bring us into His glorious kingdom in His perfect timing. Everything about this way of thinking is contrary to what God tells us about ourselves and about Him.

In fact, this lie is the lie. Let’s go back to the Garden for a minute and revisit the story of Adam and Eve. When Eve is tempted by Satan, he tells her of eating the fruit: "For God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil" (Genesis 3:5). In fact, that very fruit tree is now referred to as "The tree of the knowledge of good and evil." And we all know that Adam and Eve took the fruit and ate… causing the fall of man, banishing themselves from the Garden, and inviting evil and sin into the world as we know it.

It’s easy to think of Adam and Eve as being very dumb in that moment. Why forfeit their everlasting life, their eternal communion with God, their peace, joy, and comfort for the knowledge of evil? What a bad trade-off. Yet, that is exactly what I’m doing, isn’t it? With every article I read, I am taking the fruit and listening to the lie that says "learn more of this evil… this knowledge will keep you safe," "take and digest this knowledge, it is good… you need it to live," "use this knowledge to take control over your life and death" … in essence, stop trusting God and start trusting yourself – "be like God."

Yikes. Clearly the great deceiver is still at work. "When he lies, he speaks his native language, for he is a liar and the father of lies." (John 8:44)

In light of this revelation, I have made a commitment to myself: I will not be captivated by evil. I will not indulge the temptation that increased knowledge of evil will somehow protect or save me. For I already have a Savior and He has already rescued me from death and the power of sin. "But they have conquered him [Satan] by the blood of the lamb and by the word of their testimony, for they did not cling to life even in the face of death" (Revelation 12:11).

Amen.

The Fear Factor, by M

I started my dating fast (or, as my brilliant friend Rachel put it, my “guy-atus”) in part because my church is in the middle of a series right now called The New Rules of Love, Sex, and Dating. Twice now, my pastor has mentioned that he suggests that some people need to take a year off from romantic relationships. Now, technically he said this to men who are addicted to porn... but let's be honest, I knew he was probably talking to the likes of me as well. The other reason I'm on a dating fast is because I broke up with Mr. Maturity three weeks ago, and, well... now seems about the best time as any to take a dating fast if I'm going to take a dating fast.

But, you see, there's a little problem that I've encountered with making the year-off commitment that my pastor suggested. Actually there are a few problems... one (which I'm honestly still praying over and trying to work out) is that I'm not quite sure that God is calling me to set a deadline for May 2012. I feel strongly that God is calling me to singleness now, and to a singleness fast for... I guess for however long He tells me to. But I don't want to set a deadline for myself that I'm not sure God is actually calling me to… and then try to call it obedience. Part of me thinks that not setting a deadline and forcing myself to actually be in communion with God about when my fast ends is potentially a better way. The other part of me is grappling with the second problem I've encountered... fear.

Let's be honest, part of this equation is that I'm just downright terrified of committing to singleness for an entire year. I know that this sounds absolutely ridiculous to some of you. However, let's remember that the last time I spent a full year single I was 17... living at home, watching The Real World Back to New York and AIMing under the name MMCheergirl. This was a LONG time ago. Moreover, let's also remember that, in a way, I've never spent a year single... ever. There's a reason why non-twins are called "singletons"... I've never been one of those. It's not lost on me that the likely catalyst for my serial monogamy in the last 7 years is that for 6 of them I've been more or less twin-less. Mal and I stopped living in the same city in 2005 and I've mostly been in a relationship ever since. I am scared of being alone because deep down, I fear that I can't be... I don't know how. I was socialized as a pair and I've spent all but three or four months at a time in various pairings ever since I was born. Heck, before I was born... like when Mal and I were actually one being. What's that called? A zygote? That's weird.

Anyway, back to the issue of fear. I mean, I think my fear is justified. It makes sense why I would have such legit terror over the prospect. (Not to mention that my future bro-in-law T just informed me that I'm hitting my peak at 25... who wants to waste almost all of one's peak year in a dating fast?!) However, I've learned something about fear recently, and it's the thing I keep coming back to as I turn this whole issue over and over in my head...

Sometimes, fear is best utilized to propel you forward… not turn you back.

Okay, now before I lose you here... I will admit that sometimes fear is a useful emotion that you should obey. God gave us fear so that we would have the sense to run from large, wild animals and creepy men in alleys (or bars?!) It is fear that keeps me from wearing my 5th grade, velvet gymnastics scrunchie out in public. It is fear that prompts me to eventually get around to checking my tire pressure. In the right context, fear is useful in and of itself.

However, in my faith journey, I've found that sometimes the opposite is true. Sometimes God gives us fear to move us toward that thing that scares us, and not away from it. Quick translation: when you're scared of something, mayyybe it actually means that you should do it. (Newsflash to men with a fear of commitment!) Seriously, though, here's an illustration:

I recently decided to get full-dunk baptized at my church here in Atlanta. It was a decision accompanied by fear. For those of you who don't know, being baptized at my church means recording a 2-minute video testimony, having it shown on two jumbotrons during the service, and then getting dunked (wet hair! No makeup!) one at a time, also on the jumbotron, before approximately 2,500 people. This is not your average file-into-the-water and save your applause until the end kind of deal. There are two to three people baptized at a service... it is A LOT of attention and A LOT of close-ups of your face. So, I found myself scared: what if my testimony sounds lame? I heard there are no cue cards! What if I get a huge zit the day I record it? What if I stumble over my words? OMG no mascara in front of all those people? I swear I will probably choke on the baptism water. Will people think I'm too thin and judge me when the wet clothes stick to me? Hair up or hair down? Etc.

I eventually decided I needed to do it because the fear served the useful purpose of betraying a host of spiritual issues that I needed to address. My fear revealed that I have insecurity, fear of judgment of man, legalism and performance issues, etc. It turned out that my very fear was one of the biggest reasons I decided to go for it. It forced me to put my issues to the test and choose the better way… the way Jesus calls us and the way I know I'm supposed to live as a Christ follower.

1 John 4:18 says that "perfect love drives out fear." To be honest, that never really made sense to me. I mean, I kind of got it, and tried to figure it out using round-about reasoning, but still had an inkling that maybe John was talking about abusive relationships or something. In my mind, fear and love had very little to do with each other. I never experienced much “fear” in my romantic relationships. Certainly the occasional frustration, hurt, and disappointment, but not really fear, per se. Rarely do we speak of them in the same context. Fear and faith, sure. Faith and love? Sure. Fear and love? Hmmm, not so much.

But now I'm starting to get it... I was experiencing fear over my baptism because I was participating in a love that is not Christ's perfect love. I feared letting two thousand people see me without makeup, because when I admit it, I love people's acceptance and sometimes praise about how I look. I feared messing up in my video, because I love keeping up the impression that I'm good at everything and that I never mess up. I feared being baptized in the first place because I love my parents' acceptance and didn't want to possibly hurt them by being baptized again (W and I were both sprinkle-baptized as infants – for the record, mom and dad were totally supportive).

…My fear was born out of the possibility of losing the very things that I unjustly love. Would I fear this (really, would I fear anything?) if I was truly in love with Christ and Him alone? I doubt it. Does wet hair and no mascara matter to the King of Kings? No. Does others' perception of my wet hair and no mascara matter if I'm delighted in by the King of Kings? Definitely not. So, my fear told me in a BIG way that my love is misplaced. The perfect love story that we have with God our Father leaves no room for fear. It is when we take our love other places (hello Hosea and Gomer!) that we open the door for fear to enter. Thus, in this context, fear tells us to stop being Gomer and start getting on board with Christ… Running towards the fear, and not away from it, is the answer.

And so... I'm working out that equation right now in my heart about the dating fast. Is my fear the result of my putting my love in a place other than Christ? I think probably yes. I do know that I love thinking I have control over my own schedule and time-frame. I know that I love the idea of this imaginary future husband I've created in my mind. Does that mean I should accept singleness for the arbitrary number of 360+ days set out by a fellow man? We'll see.

What it definitely means, however, is that I will be using this fear for a purpose - working on figuring out what imperfect love(s) are driving the fear IN and learning to replace it with the Perfect Love that drives the fear OUT. I have an inkling that the process will be fruitful… whether it lasts 6 months, one year, or forever (gulp).

I’ll keep you updated!