the new legalism (II)

My greatest dream (barring even paleontology!) is to get married and raise a family, to be the best husband and best father I can be. Thanks to the New Legalism, that isn't good enough, and I've been made to feel bad about it. I can't help but wonder why such a dream, to stay with my wife and raise my kids to love God and to be good human beings, isn't good enough in a world littered with fractured families and neglected children. I can't help but wonder what Paul, who urged the Christians in Thessalonika to "live quietly, mind their own affairs, and work with their hands," would have to say about all this. 

The New Legalism is wrong.

You don't have to do radical things for God.

You don't have to change the world for the kingdom.

You don't have to become a missionary to Africa.

"Fear God and keep his commandments," Ecclesiastes 12 tells us, "for this is the whole duty of man." There it is; we can stop supplementing. God's told us what he requires of us in Micah 6.8: "to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God". How many peoples' lives have been stained with guilt because they weren't doing radical things for God, changing the world for the kingdom, or digging wells and preaching the gospel in sub-saharan Africa? How many of us bible college graduates who went on to work ordinary lives have felt guilt when we hear of our former colleagues baptizing dozens, preaching at church conferences, and recording studio albums? 

Some time ago one of my friends got married. He'd gone to bible college for urban and intercultural ministry. He found a girl, they fell in love, and she didn't want to go to Africa. She wanted to settle down, have kids, be a mother. He decided to marry her, and she got pregnant, and he compromised with God: "I'll get around to Africa someday. Once the kids are grown up and out of the house, maybe then I'll be able to do what you want me to do." He confesses guilt for getting married and settling down; he fears he's strayed from the path God set out for him. How is marriage and raising a family in the faith any less radical, difficult, or exciting than ministry in Africa? How is the ministry of the head of the household sub-par to relief work in Africa? One of the most precious gifts of God--a loving spouse and a family--is charred with guilt and subtle shame. Something to be cherished and enjoyed for all its worth and richness becomes a hindrance to one's spiritual growth and love for God. 

It's bullshit.

Plain and simple bullshit.

And yet it's preached all the time.

I heard it SO OFTEN in college. 

It was practically gospel.

But, unlike the gospel, it's pure bullshit. There's no reason for my friend not to enjoy what God has given him, no reason for him not to embrace what he's been given as a divinely-orchestrated purpose, no reason for him to not dedicate his life to being a husband and a father. Likewise, there's no reason for me to feel like I'm living outside God's favor simply because things my life doesn't look like I thought it would. I thought I'd be married, have a kid or two, and be working at a church by age 26. Instead I'm single, co-running an independent coffee shop and getting paid far less than I should be, and I'm not involved in "church" anymore than once or twice a week. When I went to bible college, I assumed that if I stayed on track with God and what he wanted from me, things would pan out as I wanted: he'd bring me wife, he'd bless me with a family, he'd get me into a church. Because none of that came to pass, it's easy for me to assume that I have indeed gone off track, that I've fallen short of God's will for my life, that I have a lot of work and striving to do before I get where I need to be. When I'm finally pleasing God again, he'll bring all those things to pass. He'll bring me a wife. He'll bless me with a family. He'll get me into professional ministry.

But, again: that's bullshit. Perhaps those years where I was constantly involved in church, stretching myself thin, barely able to breathe but loving every minute of it, perhaps that season has ended and another has begun. This season is different, but it doesn't mean it's any worse. I don't have to keep striving for God's approval, measuring his displeasure against contrasting what I hoped life would look like with what life actually looks like. There's no reason for me to feel like I've "fucked it up," because I haven't. Things just look different than I thought they would. Life has its seasons, and this is one of them. The past, that was another. And the future will have all its own seasons; I can't begin to imagine that I can predict what will happen (I don't have a good track record). 

What is it that God desires of me?

"To do justice, to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God."

God desires that I believe in him and grow in him.

God desires that I become the person he wants me to be.

And that "person" isn't characterized by accomplishments or resumes.

It's about the kind of person I am.

That's God's number one concern.

When I visited C.C.U. before deciding to enroll my freshman year, Mom told me that a wave of peace came over her, that she heard God telling her that this was where he wanted me to go. I was comfortable with it enough, not too excited about the fact that I'd be around people all the time, but it was smaller than Cedarville (and the square-shaped classrooms had lots of corner seats; I checked). I assumed that God's "stamp of approval" meant that he wanted me to go to C.C.U. because it would be there that my life would really get rolling: I'd find "The One," we'd get married and have some babies, and with my degree, I'd become a pastor. None of that happened, and the degree's been worthless so far, so I'm asking, "Why would God want me to go there?" I wonder how things would've been different had I gone to Cedarville, my original plan. But perhaps that wasn't God's point all along: I went to a school where I learned a lot about him, had my carefully-wrapped faith unwrapped and torn apart and turned into something fuller, more beautiful. Most of my friends are fuckshows like me, and I know most of them from college. Maybe God was like, "You're too weird for normal people, and this school has a lot of weirdos, so you'll make lots of great friends." Maybe God knew that there would be some hard years ahead, and he wanted to make sure I didn't go through them alone, so he directed me to C.C.U. where I'd meet and love so many great people who would get me through so much: John, Monica, Caleb, Emily, Jessica, Jessie, the Wisconsinite, just to name a few. Or maybe Mom just wanted me 45 minutes away. Really, I'll never know.

The point of all this being, just because life doesn't look like I thought it would doesn't mean that I've gone "off-track," that I've somehow screwed the pooch (is it weird that I just thought of Clover?). Although I don't always see it, I'm surrounded by blessings. One of the things Mo couldn't believe was the sort of family and friends I have: "You guys really, genuinely love one another. You're like the only group of friends I know who are unconditionally loving and caring towards one another." She couldn't get over my relationship with my sister: "No one else I know is like that, you guys hang out like every day!" Really, I'm immersed in blessings; the evidence of God's love is all around me; and the more I think about it, the more thankful I become, the more I feel praise welling up inside me. 

My greatest dream remains what it's always been.

I can't change that. I've tried, and repeatedly failed.

It's part of who I am, and, I hope, part of who God wants me to be.

But the absence of what I want doesn't indicate that I'm displeasing God.

So long as I'm faithful and growing in Christ, I'm pleasing God.

And, in that, there's both freedom and relief.