I am a Christian. Unfortunately, I don’t even know what that word means most of the time. Even while living in a “Christian” community, it is hard for me to understand Christ in myself, especially when that understanding varies so drastically in everyone I meet. There is an obvious and necessary divide between the messiah and his followers, but it is very hard not to be defined by the people who share my faith.
This is not a very new dilemma – it is one we all struggle with, whether we are Christians or not - the question of identity. How can we belong to different stereotypes within our culture (the Christian, the writer, the black dancer, the feminist, the gay male, etc.) without being tied to their connotations (the Christian is Republican and hates gay people, the writer is angsty and dreamy, the black dancer is really good at hip hop, the feminist hates men and never shaves her legs, the gay male loves shopping and tweezering his eyebrows)? And how do you understand your sense of self if you are also the connotation (if you are, for instance, a very doubtful and self-destructive writer, or a feminist who doesn’t shave her legs)?
I do not know the answer – I do not know who I am. And most of the time I don’t know who God is either. I know the sense I have of him there – I know how profound certain moments feel, the something beneath the leaves as they change color – the beauty beneath the beauty, so to speak. Those revelations are beautiful and unguarded, but they can also be rare, and difficult to share with each other.
I want to love God and love people - two very simple things. But they are never simple in reality, are they? And I often find that believing in God often undermines my ability to simply love and be present with the people I'm with. It becomes complicated. Our ideas of God do not always peacefully coexist. Sometimes it is an idea that says loving God means loving in a certain way, means preaching, going to church on Sunday, becoming a missionary in Africa, etc. None of these are necessarily bad things, and I might partake in all of them eventually, but God's beauty is not solely that. It is everyday - not glorious, or dream-like, not necessarily visionary, or even exalted - but simple, and often hard. Hugging your friends. Reading books. Making food for people. Writing. (ha ha...Okay, now I'm just talking about me....). Crying. Doing dishes. Worrying about money. Walking... Talking (ha ha).
You get the idea - you live it too. We are most often blessed with ordinary lives. I'm just trying to figure out how to be myself ( very young and quite idealistic), but also real, and genuine; aware of (and willing to experience) pain, in order to understand God. And become (at least, a little...) less foolish.
How am I both with and apart from you? What is it, in the most mediocre moments (eyes raising on the bus, two knees pressing together, a conversation in the cold), that seems to connect us? I want to believe in something that weaves us together somehow, that destroys the stereotypes, the lack of genuinity – a sincere respect and love that exists within and outside of ourselves, and allows us to truly care for each other. I just don't always know what that looks like. Or even how to believe in it.
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