Born Spiritually Breech

That is how Phillip Yancey refers to the spiritual life in his book "Reaching for the Invisible God." I thought it funny at first, but soon after I realized it was more of an accurate depiction than just a humorous antidote.

Being born breech poses a lot of problems for both the mother and the baby. It can be a much more strenuous labor and not to mention it just isn't the "normal" way a baby is supposed to enter the world. So when we compare a natural childbirth with that of a spiritual birth, we must also list all the complications that come with being born spiritually.

There are three complications that effected my being born spiritually.

1. I thought God and Santa Claus were a lot a like...

Until I was 7 I kind of looked at God like Santa. If you're good, you get good things, if you're bad, then bad things happen. I also believed in God like I believed in Santa. I thought Santa was real, but I never saw him. I thought God was real, but I never saw him either. The only difference in Santa and God at this point, was that Santa came down the chimney and stole your cookies, while God just had a bunch of quotes hanging on our walls.

2. My family went to church...

Now most would assume this is something natural and not a complication. However, church, in my case was a social gathering, not a place where we lived out the gospel Jesus preached. In fact, until the time I was 14 all I knew was that Jesus came, died, and rose again. And if I wanted to go to heaven I needed to be a good little girl and Jesus would give me gifts under the Christmas tree so I could add them to my mansion that sat on the streets of gold. There was something in their messages too about forgiveness, sin, and righteousness. I understood very little, and tried for all of 7 years (7 to 14) to do what was right so the God of Wrath didn't annihilate me or my family. So at 14 when I started to question the reason we went to church and what the Bible actually said I wasn't that popular among my friends. It wasn't that they were not interested in knowing God, He just didn't seem to have the same appeal to them as He did to me.

So in order to come out healthy I had to stop listening to what the preacher said and start reading things for myself. It was a painful process. Weeding through truth never is easy.

3. I thought I was awesome.

The number one spiritual killer. Pride. Yep, I had it. Like a bad case of chicken pox. I was always scratching and busting open the wounds that were scabbing over. I think I acquired my pride when I started asking questions and reading things on my own. My knowledge increased and so did my pride. I thought momentarily that I was God's elect and it was my job to tell everyone else how wrong they were for believing certain things about Jesus. And on top of all that, I am certain my pride was a cover up for the insecurity that was walling my heart in.

My spiritual birth wasn't easy. It wasn't incredibly difficult, but there were many times when someone would yell push and I would turn. I don't think it is ever easy to come to Jesus. Nor is it easy to stay with Him. My spiritual birth may be over, but now there is that whole growing up part. And God knows (literally) that has been more difficult than the initial celebratory birth.

Jesus, Gin, and the Cat Dish

And so it seems I am writing again. I haven't given up on writing, I simply moved it to a more comfortable location...my journal.

I've recently craved the often irreverent writings of Anne Lamott. She is funny and fresh. When I read her, I can smell the Bolinas salt water and taste the 3 day old coffee that is sitting in the sink. Every word is alive in all of my senses.

The most recent quote, "I thought such awful thoughts that I cannot even say them out loud because they would make Jesus want to drink gin straight out of the cat dish." Now, I don't know if Jesus would drink gin. He seems more like a bourbon kinda guy (or girl) however you choose to interpret His/Her gender. (Yes, I too read The Shack) While the quote makes me chuckle, I've often wondered how true it is. Not in the sense that Jesus drinks gin, but more so, do I believe that Jesus is taken back by my thoughts? That He stands with His finger pointed at my face shaking his wispy white hair side to side. Sometimes in my head I can hear Jesus say "that rich young ruler had a better chance of getting into heaven than you do."

Obviously this isn't what I "actually" believe, but it is how I often live out my faith. Striving for perfection and stepping so carefully in order to hit each stone that I miss what is around me. And what I miss is often the beauty and mystery of God.

Perhaps I will fill my cat dish up with water tonight.