This Beautiful Ache

Love hurts, plain and simply.

If you don't want to take my word for it, then...

try to meet a significant other who is so incredibly perfect for you in every way, and then... move far away so that you never get to consistently see them. Spend your time fighting the urge to grow up just so that you can see them more than once a month (if that). Sit and wait until you feel like your heart is going to burst open if you wait any longer.

If that doesn't work...

Might I suggest leaving various pieces of your heart half-way across the world in two small African communities. Entrust those pieces of your heart to several precious children, knowing that you may or may not ever see them again. Cradle these children in your arms, smile and laugh until you can't breathe anymore, wipe tears from their eyes, sing at the top of your lungs along with them and sing quietly as they sit snugly in your lap, hold their rough hands in yours for hours on end, hug them tightly as if you're afraid to let go, and then...go hop on a plane and fly 19 hours away from them.

Again, love hurts.

Yet despite this hurt, I have reason to be joyful. After all, James 1:2, this blog's namesake, says to count it all joy.

I am joyful because when love hurts, it has reached a different dimension. It has surpassed the days when it came at no cost, the days when it was easy and fun. Love that hurts, that has been dragged through the muddy trenches, that has suffered from separation anxiety of the worst kind, that has bridged cultural boundaries, that has endured the criticism of others, love that has survived, that's the kind of love that I want; that's the love that counts.

Now, it's all well and good to love a boyfriend and African orphans til it hurts, but to piggy-back off of last weeks post, aren't we supposed to love everyone til it hurts? Doesn't God call us to love all fallen humans with the same intensity as we would those close to us?

Jesus loved til it hurt. His love came at the cost of being beat within inches of His life, at the price of a cross and three nails. That love endured atrocious physical pain and still greater emotional pain. His love brought rejection, both earthly and heavenly, and ultimately death. But unlike my meager love in comparison, Jesus' love didn't just survive; it conquered.

So can we wallow in our self-proclaimed heartsickness? Can we dwell in the pain of love that hurts?

No.

We say, "Bring on the pain" because more people need to feel the love that counts, the one that's not afraid of pain and isn't quick to run away when things get hard. Jesus could have climbed right off of that cross, but He saw joy in the pain, the salvation of His precious children.

Abba Father,

Give us the strength and courage to love until it hurts. Bring us people to love by the hundreds, thousands, millions. Thank you for giving us the one true example of perfect, fearless, and matchless love through Jesus' death on the cross.

The Goody-two Shoes Plank Builder

They called me goody-two shoes, teacher's pet, and on one occasion, Ellie the nun. I was "that" kid, the one who eagerly submits complaints in the tattle-tale jar, who is always the first to inform mommy of siblings' misbehavior, who follows the rules to a "t" for fear of getting in trouble.

I used to consider my goody-two shoes title a badge of honor; I was more concerned with accolades from teachers, coaches, and parents than I was with my peers' criticism. When the kids on my swim team said bad words or talked about naughty things, I would proudly declare that I didn't know what they were talking about because I was sheltered; inside, I felt proud that I wasn't bad like those other "sinners". Even now, when I talk to people here at school who drink and party, I continually tell myself that I must be superior to these people who have obviously lost control. I fein pity for those who get wasted on the weekends, but in reality, I like to talk about people who party behind their backs with my friends because it makes me feel better about myself.

Until recently, I didn't really see a problem with this attitude; in fact, I actually thought God would honor me for being more moral that those who have "fallen off the straight and narrow." But then God nailed me smack in the face with the truth; first with a sermon at church, then in a conversation with AJ, THEN again in my devotions the next day. Through these three circumstances, God has really given me a heart check, summarized in the following questions:

How can effectively share my faith, when all I do I stand up on a self-made pulpit, condemning and gossipping about the very people I'm supposed to be showing compassion to? Am I really speaking the truth in love? Do I really care about the lost, or do I just like meeting people who make me feel better about myself? Have I forgotten that I'm just as much a fallen sinner as everyone else in this world? How could I think that my sin is less than that of my partying classmates?

The truth is, I've been focusing on all the specks in my classmate's eyes, while stubbornly ignoring the giant plank in my eye. I've been a Pharisee, concerned only about the "law," forgetting that Jesus actually scorned the Pharisees more than the sinners. To effectively share the gospel, Jesus showed love and compassion to people from all walks of life. For me, that translates to loving partiers, homosexuals, liars, thiefs, murders, etc. not because of some noble compassion I've mustered out of my own strength, but because we're all the same. I am among the chief of sinners.

Here's effective evangelism for ya: I'm just a fellow sinner that has some great news...all the ucky, rebellious sin in my heart and yours has been paid for by Jesus on the cross.

So, if you struggle with judgmental attitudes like me, check out passages like:

Matthew 7:1-5

“Do not judge, or you too will be judged. ² For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.“Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye? ⁴ How can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when all the time there is a plank in your own eye? ⁵ You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother’s eye.

or

Galatians 6:1-6

Brothers and sisters, if someone is caught in a sin, you who live by the Spirit should restore that person gently. But watch yourselves, or you also may be tempted. ² Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ. ³ If anyone thinks they are something when they are not, they deceive themselves. ⁴Each one should test their own actions. Then they can take pride in themselves alone, without comparing themselves to someone else, ⁵ for each one should carry their own load.

Goody-two shoes plank builders are not so good gospel sharers. So get rid of those planks, and start lovin' some fellow sinners, goodness knows this country needs it!

Afflicted by Affluence: Is there a cure?

Privileged, gifted, blessed...that's what they call kids like me, but is what I have really a blessing? What if it leads to a false sense of entitlement; does that make my "privilege" worth it? If my "blessings" incite arrogance and selfishness; are they really blessings?

I am without want. Literally, everything I have ever wanted, splat, has been laid down right in front of me. My needs have always been met, and virtually every one of my wants, too. I didn't have to pay for my car, nor the gas that goes in it. My parents sent me to a private Christian school for much of my primary and secondary education. Now I'm at a private liberal arts college, studying at no cost to myself. Sure, I've had a few jobs, but guess where all that moolah goes? Straight to my pocket to supply the "Things Ellie has worked hard to buy" fund. The funny thing is that compared to the vast majority of the world, I didn't really work that hard. Just look at my friend Juan from the ESL program; he works two jobs, often terrible hours, and what does he do with the majority of his money? He sends it right on over to El Salvador to support his wife, kids, and mother. What do I do with my 40 hr. a week paycheck? I spend it on a new North Face jacket even though I already own a perfectly good one.

The worst part about this affluence is that I did absolutely nothing to deserve it, and yet I think that I'm entitled to nice things. It wasn't by my own effort that I was born into this family, nor were the nice house, car, or clothes purchased with my own hard-earned money. I could just have easily been born in E. Africa, wondering not if I would be able to get a Starbuck's Skinny Vanilla Latte this morning, but whether or not I was going to die due to lack of nourishment.

I'm not only richly "blessed" financially. I've had minimal struggles in this life. God's blessed me with good health. I've never had to deal with the death of anyone close to me. I grew up in a home where my parents always told us they loved us, that they were proud of us. I could have been born into an abusive family, one that never told me they loved me. I could have been born in a third-world country or in the inner-city. I could have been an orphan.

Sometimes I'm disgusted at myself. The petty things I complain about; the pity-parties I throw for myself; how ridiculously angry I get when I have to spend my own money on something I think my parents should buy me; the jealousy I have towards people with more J. Crew clothes than me or a cooler pair of Toms.

It's true: I'm afflicted by affluence. It seeps into my heart and drives out Jesus. When I read Matthew 19:21 "Jesus answered, 'If you want to be perfect, go, sell your possessions and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me." I rationalize it, saying that surely Jesus didn't literally mean for me to sell all I have and give it to the poor. Surely Jesus was only talking about a certain few of super-Christians, but me? No, definitely not me.

But then I look at my life, the arrogance, selfishness, and entitlement this affluence has brought to my heart, and I begin to wonder, what if Jesus really did mean me? I mean, I have so much, and there are so many that have so little...maybe God blessed me with so much, so that I could give it away to so many. Maybe He gave me so much, so that I could join a counter-culture of American affluence, to exemplify to a falsely-entitled generation what a life captivated by Jesus looks like, to take serious God's command to take care of the poor.

I think Jesus offers the perfect cure to my sick heart. I don't think that Jesus told the rich man to sell all he had as some sort of super-Christian action that would get the rich man to Heaven. I think Jesus was merely offering the rich man a cure for his heart-sickness; after all, giving up everything to the poor would surely eliminate affluence. What's more, a heart that can freely give things up to the poor is a heart that reflects a Jesus-transformation.

It makes sense...if affluence makes you greedy, arrogant, selfish, and falsely entitled, what better thing to do than get rid of it? and what better way to get rid of it that to give it to people who actually need it, the one's who will die without it?

Jesus really did mean us; I'm thoroughly convinced. Will I continue to live in sickness, or will I have the courage to take what Jesus said seriously, knowing full well that my "privilege" and "blessings" can really be quite the opposite?