In the Aftermath of Legalism

I grew up going to church but it wasn't until high school that I truly started to make faith my own, instead of just inheriting all the spoon-fed stuff I heard on Sunday morning. Seriously, what kid wouldn't rather sleep in or go outside and play than go to church? Blah. I just wanted to eat cereal and watch cartoons while dressed in my pajamas. Digression aside, high school is when all those Sunday school classes started to make sense and, hey, they actually had a point to them. That metaphorical light bulb came on as the youth pastor explained in his sermon, "Jesus died on the cross to forgive you of your sins. You just have to trust and believe He did." Oooooh, that's what the cross is for. (Yeah, it was that moment.) 

About a year later I was baptized, and since then I have spent years reading and studying the Bible -- complete with a Theological Studies degree from my alma mater -- and trying to get a grip on what it looks like to love God and love people. 

I'll spare you a lot of details and just say somewhere along the way I learned to clothe myself in legalism. Merriam-Webster defines legalism as, "strict, literal, or excessive conformity to the law or to a religious moral code," and being a vigilant rule-keeping Christian was what I thought I was supposed to be. 

There was a problem with living by all these rules, though: I said I believed Jesus died so my sins would be forgiven, but I lived my faith like my salvation was something I had to earn. If I wasn't trying to earn God's love outright, I made sure my actions proved I was the real deal: I volunteered with homeless ministries, co-led a Bible study for four years geared towards high school students, donated food and money to local food banks, sponsored (and still sponsor) a child through World Vision, and sent monetary contributions to other such organizations. I didn't cuss, drink, smoke, or do drugs; I was careful to avoid the media I thought was too sensual or vulgar for my liking. Bible verses often were my Facebook status of choice. I did all this for the sake of trying to prove to myself, to others, and to God that, dammit, I was a Christian. I lived and acted as if all my good doings wouldn't be enough to get me into heaven, despite my faith claim that Jesus's death and resurrection meant my sins were forgiven and I'd be spending an eternity in heaven with Him. I tried being that poster girl of a good little Christian for years.

So what was missing? I had it all together. I was the "good Christian girl" who ran as far away from any trouble as possible. Here I sit, years later, looking at that mindset in hindsight and now I know I wasn't motivated by love for God; it was all about fear. I also tried living my life in the way a few of my home churches thought appropriate. "Go to church as often as possible." "Volunteer in this ministry and this one and this one . . . We need your talents!" "Lead a Bible study on a weeknight. You have the education and knowledge to be a great leader!" "Oh, and don't forget that Christian women are to be gentle, loving, hospitable, and weather any hardship with a smile while believing that God will deliver her!" 

Ugh. Can I say right now that the reason I'm writing this blog is therapy for my burnt-out faith? That's where I am right now: church-y Christianity burnout. I'm not quite the mess of cynicism and resentment towards God that I was, say, six months ago, but I'm still struggling. The past three years of my life have taught me a lot about accepting God's grace -- probably because I was wrecking my health just to keep up appearances -- and I'm still learning to see God as my loving Father and Redeemer instead of a celestial slave-driver with a whip. 

It's a near outright war trying to give God permission to pull out the painful burrs of anger and rebellion so that my character will look a lot more like Jesus's, but it's a struggle. (Okay, it's a big struggle.) And I have no idea what I'm supposed to do in the meantime; then again, maybe I'm just supposed to let Jesus's unconditional love fight through my anger and bitterness and cynicism. Maybe I just need to sit and be and be reminded that John 3:16-17 applies to the little rule-follower-turned-rebel that is me: "For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him will not perish but have eternal life. For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him" (NIV). Maybe all I need to do is let God love the hell out of me.

"Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light" (Matthew 11:28-30, NIV).