A conversation tonight made me realize that though a lot of people (kinda-sorta) know (basically-ish-ugh-kinda-not-really) what I believe, they don't really know why. I recently applied to BWAP which is a Christian organization that does service in SF, and they had this question: "Describe your relationship with Jesus Christ." For my answer I wrote what you'll find below. I was going to put it up earlier, actually right after I wrote it, but it seemed kind of . . . like I didn't want to. Partially because of laziness and partially because . . . I don't know. I think most of it was laziness. Actually, that's a complete lie. Part of it might have been because I know a lot of the people who read this blog disagree with what a believe or don't know parts of my life story that were in my answer to this application question. And I was scared that if they knew all of it, they'd be weirded out or think I was crazy or stupid or something. There's stuff in here that some of my family doesn't know about (and won't like) and other parts that friends don't know about (and will think I'm crazy for). And believe me, there are a lot of things that you're about to read that at one point or another I would have pointed at someone else who was going through it and said they were stupid for it. But I think that's part of the beauty of growing up and living in a non-stagnant world; I get to change my mind and my perception of the world I inhabit. And I think part of what goes along with that is the people in my life have the freedom to change their mind and perception about me. It's only fair, right?
I thought about editing it down to make it "blog appropriate" for all my various readers (which there are surprisingly many of. I'm always thrown off when different people mention different things from my blog that I think only a handful of people read). But I realized that if I edited it down first for what my grandparents don't know, and then for what one group of friends doesn't know, and then for what another group of friends will think I'm crazy for, and then for what will scare my family (don't worry, mom, it's not that bad). . . There would be nothing left.
So I'm about to go open up the document that I wrote a couple weeks ago and haven't looked at since, and copy and paste it onto here. Honestly, I don't remember what I wrote, and I'm not going to reread it until it's up and posted because I don't want to be tempted to edit it down. So here it is, I"m going to post it right now.
Because, hell, why not?
Describe your relationship with Jesus:
Jesus and I are tight. We’ve gone through some rocky times, but I feel like we’ve grown a lot this past year and a half. I grew up in a Christian-ish home (Mom was Christian, Dad wasn’t), and my faith was always a huge part of my life. I feel like there have been a lot of steps where I’ve “made it my own” over and over. I think that’s important. As I enter new phases of my life, I have to reaffirm my life to him at each phase. I know that once he’s in my life, he’s in my life forever. But still, it’s helpful for me to recognize the new stages of my life and realize how my relationship with God has changed at each one. My life isn’t stagnant, and neither is my faith. The first time I made my faith “my own” was when I was five and accepted Jesus into my heart. A year later, my mom got cancer, and I made my faith “my own” when we no longer went to church as a family-ish unit (my dad never went), but instead I had to ask my dad to drive me every time I wanted to go. When my mom got cancer again when I was in sixth grade, I again had to work for my relationship with God, asking my dad to drive me to both church on Sundays and youth group mid-week. Every time I was sick – in sixth grade with pneumonia for two months, in seventh grade for mono for three months – I had to reaffirm my faith in God and his ability to get me well. Through every best friend who abandoned me and decided I wasn’t “cool,” enough, I had to make my faith “my own” again and remember that He will always love me. Junior year when I missed six(?) months of school because of an illness that tens of doctors couldn’t identify, I again made my faith “my own” as I trusted that God would get me better, since nobody else could. Freshmen year at Cal I started treatment for an eating disorder that I had developed in high school, and again God was the only one I could lean on. Sophomore year my world was flipped up side down when I circumnavigated the globe, seeing poverty, hardship, slums, townships, other religions, other cultures . . . My world that had before been drawn in black sharpie on white paper became a blur of colors and confusion, and I was terrified I would lose my faith. At first I didn’t want to tell anyone I was questioning, because I thought questioning meant doubting and doubting meant that I was a “bad Christian.” But I didn’t understand how a loving God could let parts of the world be that horrible, or how whole countries filled with people who practiced different religions would be sent to hell. I didn’t understand how to reconcile the more comfortable idea of “everyone has their own truth and you just need to do what’s right for you” with the idea I had grown up with “Jesus is the only way.” I got a tattoo of a Jesus fish on my head. In Roman times, slaves would get tattoos to show commitment to their masters. I thought that if I committed myself in the form of a tattoo, I would somehow have to stay Christian, because I couldn’t not be Christian and have a Christian symbol on my head. I stopped reading my Bible after a year and a half of reading it everyday. The following summer I took a break from Christianity. I went to South America and didn’t even bring my Bible; this compared to a time when I read my Bible everyday while I was traveling around the whole world. The only two times I went to church in South America, I was almost sexually assaulted. Coming back to Cal, I knew that things had to change for me. I felt like I understood “God.” I knew that there was a God, because there have been so many things that I don’t think could “just happen” and so many beautiful things that I don’t think could just “happen to look that way.” And I knew that God was loving, because I have been so incredibly blessed and have felt so incredibly love by God, that I knew that He loved me. Like one time on a retreat, we had “quiet time,” and I decided that instead of talking to God and praying, I would listen. So I sat there . . . and “listened” . . . and got really bored. Then when it was time to go in, I saw had an acorn and had a really, ridiculously strong impulse to pick it up. I don’t know why, and even my head was like, “What are you going to do with that acorn?” But I pocketed it anyways and went on with my day. When I got home later, I went on facebook bumper stickers, and the first bumper sticker said, “Here’s an acorn. I love you.” with a picture of an acorn. Weird, I know. But it happened. So, like I said, I have felt loved by God, and I don’t think that I’m the only one in the world He loves, so I have to conclude that he is a loving God . . . But then I got to the “Jesus” part, and I got stuck. I didn’t know how to think of Jesus, I didn’t have any “proof” of him. I was stuck. I knew I wanted Him back, and I knew I wanted Him in my life, and I knew what that peace of knowing Jesus felt like. But I was still stuck. So I joined the leadership team at church and started leading a triplet, which seems like a weird step. But I knew that they only way I would get anywhere was if I was in the word about it and in discussion about it, so I had to be committed to something. I was upfront about being in a weird phase of questions, but still knowing that I wanted to know Jesus. So I lead a triplet, was a leader for the triplet leaders, was involved in church, talked a lot to Nick, and prayed a lot. I still know that there are a lot of things I don’t know, and honestly I think if I was back in Jesus-times I would sometimes get really annoyed with Him, but I know I love Him, and I know He loves me, and I know about the graceful sacrifice He made for me. He is teaching me His grace, and He is filling me with His joy. And now as I’m slightly homeless and in the dregs of finals, I can still be graceful to those who have hurt me, and joyful in the face of suckiness. And it’s all because of Him. Like I said, we’re tight.
P.S. For the record, I don't think I've "arrived" at all in my spiritual process, and there are still a lot of questions that I don't have the answer to, but I'm going to be corny for a second and say that life isn't about the destination, it's about the journey, and it's not about getting the "correct" answers, it's about asking the hard questions.
