Long ago, I pretended to understand people who reassuringly said, “Keep your eyes on God (or on Jesus or on The Father).” But when I struggled with problems, I had no idea how I could keep my eyes on Jesus. Yes, I knew he was required to love me (I did not even understand that he WANTS to love me and delights in me), and I knew someday I would die and go to heaven. But back then that phrase was as cold and unloving to me as if someone also said, “Go in peace; keep warm and well fed,” and as the verse of James 2:16 continues, “but does nothing about their physical needs, what good is it?” I had no idea how to “keep my eyes on Jesus,” nor really what that meant. I needed precise guidance about how to let God know I was troubled, and then how to ask him for help, and even how to trust he would care for me.
I was a Christian at the time this phrase confused me. Jesus meant the world to me, but I did not know how much he wanted to love me, nor did I understand that kind of language. I had no experience “keeping my eyes on Jesus.” I needed more specific directions. I was numb, so I also needed to know what was happening in my heart. I grew up in a home where we were shamed for our sorrow and fears. So I pretended to have no sorrow or fear. As a result, I could only pretend to agree with people who told me to look to Jesus. The first step I would have needed would have been to admit I was hurt, badly hurt, by a harsh childhood, and by all the early adult years of denying that pain. I would have been better off if someone had said, “Blessed are those who mourn for they shall be comforted,” (Matt.5:4.) And if someone had told me, “Go ahead and admit to how much sorrow you feel. Look back at what might have caused all that sorrow,” I would have done better.
I know this is not the only “Christian phrase,” that has been meaningless to people who hear it. Sometimes Christians mean well, but they use these phrases without understanding what is actually going on in someone’s life. Because I lead such a dutiful life, faithfully attending church, avoiding all the outward sins, even reading my Bible, people assumed I had a mature understanding of the Bible. But I did not. When I read the Bible, I read it with the legalistic bias I had grown up with. As a result, I held (but denied) intense pain in my heart. And I had a strong sense of obligation to do what was right. So I often did not understand many essential truths of the Christian walk of joy and freedom. People could lie to me and take advantage of me and mock me, and I believed them, because they pretended to be Christians. People also expected me to be more confident, without realizing I had no idea how much Jesus wanted to love me.
Knowing “Jesus loves me and died for me,” is not the same as knowing “Jesus delights in me, adores me and wants me, and is pleased he made me the way he made me; he does not call me a mistake.” I knew the Law, and I even knew a tiny bit about God’s grace, but not enough. But I looked so dutiful that people assumed I understood the depth of God’s love. I did not, and I suffered terribly. I missed out on so much love, acceptance and grace. Yet strangely, I offered so much grace to others, that they assumed I believed God was offering that grace to me too. I did not.
It is essential that we understand where Christians and agnostics are at when we interact with them. I have met others who had these wrong beliefs too. And I sense that other Christians (and agnostics who want to know God) have many other wrong ideas about God. So when we use popular Christian phrases, we may assume these people understand us, but our words may be as painful for them as that phrase was for me. I only felt guilt, because I had no idea how to do anything differently than what I was already doing; and what I was doing was not bringing me any peace.
I am a different person today, but that is because I learned to bring my raw heart, wild emotions, anger, confusion, disgust, all the bad feelings, bad memories, and sorrows to the Lord. I had to bring so much to God. I had to tell him, and at times I needed to talk to other Christians, so I could find grace from them too. And I had to cry, cry, cry over all that pain. I had to cry for months, even a whole year. Some people told me I was crazy when I admitted to all that pain. They liked me better when I denied my pain and pretended to agree to a stoic life that denies all the pain. They were afraid of facing their own pain, and I scared them when I did!
Pretending to be perfect at church was detrimental to my walk of Faith. In essence, I lied as I pretended to agree with phrases I did not understand. I accidentally lied to myself when I thought I had to perform to please God. I also believed the lie that God “puts up with people like me,” and that God had to love me but that he did not much like me—all these lies kept me from falling deeply, wildly in Love with him. These lies kept me from fully understanding and cherishing his wild love for me, the love that causes a dignified father to throw off Jewish tradition, hike up his robe and run to a smelly prodigal child (Luke 15:20.)
I am not alone in what I suffered. Other people also hold back, because they are bound in many lies like I believed. I want to change this tragedy for others. I want to welcome women, girls, and guys, to come to the Lord and say, “I have no idea what all those Christian phrases mean. I don’t know the way, and I don’t know how to reach you, God,” just like Thomas said in John 14:5-6. I love his honesty, because he told Jesus he did not know the way to the Father. Who answered this man’s question? Jesus, himself, did. That is also who I needed to talk to, but I had such a wrong idea of Jesus’ busy schedule, and such a low idea of my worth, that I did not realize I could come to him and tell him how confused I was and how much pain I was in.
And remember, some people liked me better when I remained in that stoic, dishonestly calm-looking position. Some people were very upset with me when I began to ask questions and began to admit to pain from my childhood. Some people in churches do not want messy people. They don’t want sinners who are hurting and confused and who make mistakes and as a result, accidentally keep on sinning. I am not referring to hate-filled sins, but sins like Rahab’s when she lied to the men of Jericho, to protect the Israelite spies (Joshua 2:4-5.) Rahab did not know she should not tell a lie. And God honored her for doing her best by putting her in the lineage of Jesus and by honoring her in Hebrews 11:31 (the Bible hall of fame.) But at some churches, people who make mistakes like that are scolded harshly. They forget to ask, “What about their hearts?”
Oh, we must hear their hearts. As Christians, we need to be the people to whom the confused and hurting can come so they can admit to how us about how they feel, even if they are confused, angry, afraid, and even if they are saying things with harsh language. Perhaps they don’t know they should not cuss (that was not one of my problems, but I have heard others who are baby Christians and cuss.) Even if they keep making stupid mistakes, if they do not understand the right way to live, they will make those mistakes. If they only think Christianity is a “religion” (rules) they will try to act righteously, but their hearts will still ache with their pain. And even if they surrender their hearts to Christ, like I did as a very young child, they may still live many years believing lies and thus not getting close enough to Christ to experience full freedom.
Today I experience that freedom. Today I can boldly say, “I know Christ loves me and wants me.” I could not say that in my earlier adult years, even as a born-again-Christian. I know someone can be saved but not be fully free. This is not Jesus’ fault, but the flaw in our sin nature, and in the way we only receive a portion of the Gospel. My father believed those same lies, and he also struggled. He had a terrible temper, and he could not control it. He was a work-a-holic, and his addiction to work, even as a pastor, caused him to burn out, and he had multiple heart attacks. Some pastors continue to preach long past retirement years. My dad had to retire as soon as he could. It was in his later years that he mellowed and found more joy in Jesus.
I need to close this post, but I also want to share more, because even today, a pastor on the radio explained that, as an eight-year-old, he did not understand some “Christian jargon” in Sunday School. He also needed more explicit training to fully embrace Jesus. If you have suffered from this kind of spiritual starvation, please share with me. I want to encourage you. And I want to write according to what ministers to you. I want to encourage other hurting people to know how much Jesus delights in them. We, Christians, are not a burden but a joy to our Lord. We can bring all of our sorrows to him (Matt. 11:28, “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened and I will give you rest.”) May the Lord bless you this week!