Skip to main content

the deconstruction of my life and other not-so-fun moments : reckless love

 

 

About ten years ago, I caught on to this revolutionary (to me) idea of radical love. I wanted more than anything to be  Love, the mouthpiece, the hands, the feet of Jesus, the very embodiment of all that love is.

I spoke about love and forgiveness, acceptance and grace. I was the voice.

I helped feed the hungry and clothe the poor. I was the hands.

I went about my life, in my own town, in another country, spreading this newfound love. I was the feet.

The more I swam in the deep of this reckless sea of unadulterated love, the freer I was. It was liberating like no other point of my christian walk had been. I knew authenticity and openness and joy in limitless ways. This love was overflowing and I gave it away freely.

but

The church is not in the free business. It became quite clear that I was being too  free with my approach.

Yes, god gives grace, BUT...

Yes, god forgives, BUT...

Yes, god accepts all, BUT...

Of course god loves all, BUT...

So, I tempered my love, and pieces of me withered and went away, and I'm not sure if they'll ever come back. I'm pissed at the church for their hypocrisy of offering such beautiful gifts that have such ugly strings attached.  

Why? Why couldn't I just love with this overwhelming love?  Because apparently god's love has some pretty hefty strings attached too. But why didn't I ever feel those strings?

And, I became stingy with my grace, and my forgiveness dwindled and went away, and I'm not sure if it will ever surge so mightily again. I'm pissed at myself for being manipulated in this game of heaven and hell.  

Why? Why couldn't I just bestow grace on all indiscriminately?  Because apparently god's grace has some ridiculous rules attached to it.  But why didn't I ever feel the brunt of those rules?

But, at the end of the day, intermixed with these unanswered questions, I also have hope. Hope that somewhere in all of my deconstruction, I will discover that love once more, the one without rules and labels and boxes, that just flows wherever it pleases and not just within the church, those four walls that act as the gatekeeper of a Love that knows no limits. Hope that I will find grace to lavish upon the very ones that refuse to lavish it upon others, that I will forgive because it frees my soul to do so and not because I have to in order to enter some distant paradise on the promises of those who have hurt me most in this life. 

Hope that I can be reckless once more. 



**************************************************************************

you can read my other deconstructing moments here:

    racism  

    forgiveness 

    love others 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

and the honor goes to...part 1

This will be a series of posts in which I honor people who have made an impact in my life, both in my past and in my present. I am blessed to still have some of these people in my life; others have left this life for their next one; others are no longer a part of my close circle, yet still made a difference to me. I want to share them with you. I want to honor them. I want them to know how much I love and respect them. The first one is dedicated to my childhood babysitter, Pat B. Growing up, both of my parents worked. This meant that my sister and I went to a babysitter when we were younger. We had a few, but the one that we spent the most time with, and that I remember the most, lived right up the road from us. We were actually neighbors, but being in the country, that meant a cornfield separated us. I recall being there when I was in kindergarten until I was old enough to stay by myself, probably around 12 or 13. I love to reminisce about my time there. It was my home away from ...

no more hiding

I first published this in May of 2013. A lot has changed in that time. A lot has stayed the same. There are updates at the end of this post. One of my daughters is on a daily SSRI (selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor) or, in layman's terms, an antidepressant. She was diagnosed with the main dish of Anxiety Disorder, with a side of depression. I can joke about it now - and she can too - but it hasn't always been that way. . We first encountered it years ago. At the time we sought church-based counseling but nothing else in the way of help for her. She was so young that I just couldn't imagine putting her on a medication. I had a hard time even accepting that she might have a mental disorder. We got through that time - barely - and went on without it rearing its head again. But when it resurfaced three years ago, it did so with a vengeance. This time, I was better equipped myself to deal with it. There was no hesitation. We immediately saw a doctor, got a prescrip...

the gift of covid-19

" But there never seems to be enough time To do the things you want to do Once you find them..."     ~ Time In A Bottle by Jim Croce Time. How many of us would wish for more time? I would. At the end of many days, I wish that I had just a few more hours, or one more day, or to somehow stop the world from spinning by so quickly so that I could accomplish more, do more, be more. But, it doesn't work that way. We are all given the exact same minutes in a day to decide what is important, who and what holds our attentions, our hearts. If, at the end of today, I am wishing for more time, it is because I chose to mismanage the gift of time that I have already received. I found out Friday that my job would be on a 2 week break due to the corona virus. I am an aide/occasional driver on a school van. It takes less than 4 hours out of my day, but my mind started immediate calculations about how I could spend these extra minutes. I spent wasted time dreaming about sl...