Dirty Faith

I recently (started and) finished reading Rob Bell's "Velvet Elvis" ...

. . . while you would have to read the book yourself to make your own judgements, I found it to be quite real. Quite refreshing. Quite honest. And, well, quite quotable.

I decided to snatch-and-post the following excerpt from the end of his book because it seems (to me, at least) to relate to my 100% Honest post.

"I am like you. I have seen plenty done in the name of God that I'm sure God doesn't want anything to do with. I have lots of reasons for bailing on the whole thing.
I am also like you because I have a choice. To become bitter, cynical, jaded, and hard. Anybody can do that. A lot have. Hatred is a powerful, unifying force. And there is a lot to be repulsed by.

Or, like you, I can choose to reclaim my innocence. We can choose to reclaim our innocence together. We can insist that hope is real and that a group of people who love God and others really can change the world. We can reclaim our idealism and our belief and our confidence in the big ideas that stir us deep in our bones. We can commit all the more to being the kinds of people who are learning how to do what Jesus teaches us.

I am not going to stop dreaming of a new kind of faith for the millions of us who need it. I am not going to stop dreaming of new kinds of communities that put the love of God and the brilliance of Jesus on display in honest, compelling ways. I am not going to stop dreaming of new ways to live lives of faith and creativity and meaning and significance."

I feel like he's looking me in the eyes as he says these words. Because they are for me.

I just have this sense that however my faith develops from this point forward, it will be about honesty; about accepting my questions, stating them point-blank, and diggin' around in the dirt for the answers. And you know what, I'm starting to love that.

I'm starting to love that I don't have to wash up clean and perfect before church; I can just walk in with muddied hands and a muddled understanding of what Christ wants from me... and I can learn and grow right there in that dirty state.

I love messy Christianity. The kind where t-shirts, sweatpants, and bible studies over picnic lunches (or Caribou Caramel High Rises) replace the pleated Easter outfits and prestigious sanctuary-wear.

I'm loving the raw discussions that have transpired in the past few weeks; those unifying discussions where everyone in the room realizes that we are all stuck in this limited, feeble understanding of who God is - none of us better than the other, yet each of us craving more.

I'm starting to love it because it is real. It is life. The world doesn't need more robe-bearing Christians to gallivant the nations proclaiming the exclusive salvation they have received by implementing plans X,Y, and Z. Because the world doesn't respond to that. The world needs people. People with love overflowing from their hearts... people who can selflessly serve... people who will share their struggles and mistakes and questions. People who hold the love of Christ on a pedestal in their paltry hearts and hold him out to strangers in their earth-grazed hands. It's dirty - there's no doubt about that. It's living, shovel-in-hand, with no perfect answers in sight. But it's freeing. It's being discovered and helping others discover themselves.