all that’s beautiful is broken.

The day following Christ became difficult wasn’t around the time that I failed my wife or smoked pot or started lifting cigars from the local grocery store.  It actually happened long before that, around the time I started noticing what kind of language the other kids were using.

They got to say words like “damn” and I didn’t.  One time, I innocently came home from school and dropped the F-bomb on my mother.  I was promptly scolded somewhere along the lines “Don’t let me ever hear that word come out of your mouth again.”  Emphasis on ever.

Following Christ then was hard not because I was on the verge of temptation or traumatic life change.  It was hard because I finally saw the delineation between hearing about Jesus and being different because of Jesus.

Since that time, I’ve lived between these notions that Jesus is a guy who says good things and that he’s the way to a new life.  I liked the guy who says good things because he can be followed fairly easy.  Just do steps 1-2-3.  He’s infomercial Jesus.

Following Christ to new life, now that’s another story.  I’m not talking about earning his love.  I’m talking about accepting his love enough to know that I didn’t have to curse like the other kids at school.

Man, I wanted to.  Confessional sidebar: I occasionally do curse but immediately follow it with prayer and feelings of regret. 

I’m a broken guy.  Not like a broken toy whose lost it’s functionality.  I’m not ‘scratched CD broken’. I’m more like ‘antique broken’.   A one-man’s-treasure kind of thing.  Except that one man is Jesus.  I’ve discovered that my brokenness isn’t because I didn’t buy his product or do steps 1-2-3.

Check it out: There’s not a sideline coach screaming “C’mon innate Christianity, don’t fail him now.  You can do it, tiger”.

The day following Christ became hard was when I associated my difference with this world to acting different on my own strength.  Those other kids cuss so I don’t and I don’t because I’m a Christian…right?

Wrong.  I follow Christ because he takes my brokenness and calls it beautiful.  I follow Christ because while I was so incredibly deep in the muck of sin he died for me.  What’s hard about that?  It’s humbling.  I think accepting his love to the degree that it affects my behavior, my thinking, my choices and perceptions…that’s hard.

In some ways I’m still that little kid.  Hoping that I can do and say things differently enough to be loved by my father.  It’s a good thing I have a big brother to look up to.  I think I’ll watch how he and his father love each other.  Talk about beautiful…

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