Instead of approaching those with different beliefs and practices from a position of strength – in which we simply engage in the act of agreement or disagreement (which means comparing the other in relation to our own pre-established horizon) – literalistic listening asks us to approach from a position of weakness. It means that we don’t simply look at the other through our own eyes, but we attempt to look at ourselves through the eyes of the other.

The result is that, instead of seeing the other as strange and alien, we actually begin to encounter ourselves as strange and alien; we begin to glimpse how the things that we take to be eternally true are actually constructs with a history. Instead of agreeing or disagreeing with the other, we ask, ‘What do I look like to you?’ In doing this we do not simply filter what they say through our lens but are confronted by the reality of our lens.

— Peter Rollins

Anonymous asked:

So I have discovered that, I’m a hypocrite and a Pharisee. I ended up disappointing my pastor and my spiritual family with my dishonesty. I feel that I have no strength to face Jesus or my church because of my sinfulness. I am honestly confused with my faith and lukewarm in everything that I do. I want to turn and follow Jesus but I feel that I have crossed the line so now I don’t even know if I’m forgiven by God. What I’m asking is does Jesus really meet us where we are? Even Pharisees?

If I could talk to you face to face, I’d give you an awkwardly long hug and start from there. Please, please, please believe: God still loves you and He’s still rooting for you, and so am I.

I’m not just saying that. Your message shows that you’re owning up to what you’ve done. I see no hint of defensive posture or making excuses. Right now, you have more insight and self-awareness about your condition than the majority of churchgoers — and while I don’t mean to compare or keep score, you’re in the right place. God is already doing something in you. Yes, you might lose opportunities in the world — perhaps big ones that you’ll mourn over — but you’ll always have a second chance with God.

I understand what it’s like to disappoint people. I know what it’s like to walk into church unable to look at people in the eye. I know what it’s like to believe you can’t do anything right and to think an entire ministry hates you. I especially know what it’s like to imagine a room full of people who are talking about you, berating you, saying “I always knew he was a little weird,” and maybe saying some truth in there, but filled with their own embellishments.

I beat myself up almost daily over stupid things I have said and for stupid actions that I can hardly explain myself. You know: there’s that late-night twitch when you replay some terrible thing you did, over and over. It’s a loop of self-condemnation, and I’ve been there.

I’m not trying to play the victim-card. We know what we’re responsible for. Sure, our motives might be a hot mess and our actions messier still, but we still know where we got it wrong. People might be rightly upset with you, and you need to let them have that, which it appears like you’re doing.

This is why the moment of defeat matters less than the moment right after. That probably sounds like the Christianese thing to say, but I am so dang serious. You can’t beat yourself up forever. You can’t keep sitting in the back of church with your head down. You can’t revel in your own shame and self-pity as if this is paying your debt. You might think, “I need to show these people I’m really sorry” and I understand that mentality, but there is no end to that, and life goes on, and so must you.

Continue reading “Question: I’m A Screwed Up Hypocritical Pharisee — Is There Grace For Me?” →

I often imagine what other people say about what I’m doing and it’s always the people who don’t really like me. I mentally argue with them until I’ve finally proven I’m not who I used to be.  I’ll spend hours inside my own head explaining my side of the story and why you need to know I’m not a bad guy and that I’m sorry for the person I was before.

Seriously.  Hours.  I can’t seem to do a single good thing without the strangling voice of condemnation cutting into my head.  It squeezes the value of any good I could do.  Even when I win the argument in my angry fantasies, I’m not at peace; I’m more mad than when I started.  It’s terribly exhausting.

When someone aims a harmless joke at me, I repeat that phrase in my head over and over, rotating it like a dirty jewel that has locked up my freedom.  It’s a joke, right?  There’s not truth in every joke, is there? 

It’s worse when it’s actual discouragement. 

Actual things people have said to me:

“You’re just ugly.”

“I’ve lost all respect for you.”

“You’re beyond repair.”

“All this God-stuff can’t change you.”

“I know who you really are.”

“Obviously you hate children.”

“You’re a lazy arrogant self-promoter.”

“You’re just a nobody pastor.  You’ll never make it.”

I imagine a room full of these people laughing at me, shaking their heads saying, “I always knew something was wrong with him.”  It keeps me up at night. I wake up to it in the mirror.  I get a glimpse of how Jesus was humiliated, rejected, abandoned, and cast aside. 

Sometimes I write a secret arrow aimed at the mean people and I hope they feel rebuked and convicted and the next time they see me they’re so, so sorry.  Most likely they’re hardly thinking of me, except when they do, which is less than the loop in my head.

Life can feel like a constant game of compensation and always apologizing for the past and there’s this paranoia that I’m always doing something wrong, that life will pay me back, that others will misinterpret me no matter what I do.

Continue reading “The Voice of Self-Condemnation: Mental Arguments and The Encroaching Chokehold of Small Town Opinions” →

Instead of approaching those with different beliefs and practices from a position of strength – in which we simply engage in the act of agreement or disagreement (which means comparing the other in relation to our own pre-established horizon) – literalistic listening asks us to approach from a position of weakness. It means that we don’t simply look at the other through our own eyes, but we attempt to look at ourselves through the eyes of the other.

The result is that, instead of seeing the other as strange and alien, we actually begin to encounter ourselves as strange and alien; we begin to glimpse how the things that we take to be eternally true are actually constructs with a history. Instead of agreeing or disagreeing with the other, we ask, ‘What do I look like to you?’ In doing this we do not simply filter what they say through our lens but are confronted by the reality of our lens.

— Peter Rollins, The Idolatry of God (2013)

Anonymous asked:

Hello! Do you believe in soul mates? Do we pick and choose who we want or does God have a way of placing a certain someone in our lives?

I say this with as much grace as possible, but my very short answer is 1) sort of and 2) both.

I do believe God has a plan and a blueprint and a vision for your life: but I also believe that if we fall off the tracks, God still has something else in mind.

Mathematically, the idea of a “soulmate” doesn’t work out. If you don’t end up with your soulmate, then they don’t end up with their soulmate, which means their soulmate’s soulmate doesn’t either, and so it goes for infinity.

But more than that, the idea of a soulmate can accidentally lead to a passive laziness as if a knight will bust in the room and rescue you from a tower. It can lead to a paralyzing fear if you target-lock on someone and lose them.  It can make us stop working on anything, thinking that marriage “completes you,” that the chemistry is enough to keep it working, that the person you’re looking for “accepts” you and is not interested in pushing you to your higher self in Christ — and I know none of that is your intention, but I’ve seen it happen so much that it’s worth mentioning.

I find that friendship is already extremely difficult work. I feel like I’ve known my best friends for longer than I have, and certainly there’s a comfort and openness and honesty with them that allows me to be totally screwy around them: but friendship, even the kind that feels like fate, requires hard work. It needs nutrition, sustenance, and caretaking, like everything else. Maybe “soul-mate-ness” brought us together, but it doesn’t keep thriving from it.

Continue reading “Question: So About Soulmates” →

I realize more and more that everyone is broken. We are all broken. We all crave attention from people. We all have issues with gossip. We all struggle with being honest. It surprises me that I’m surprised by this. I’m still surprised when I discover the cracks in people. But when we’re more aligned with God, we’re able to find those cracks and fill them up with love. We can’t ignore them and pretend that they’re not there. We can’t just put a bandage on them and think that it fixed the problem. But all we can do is just fill them up with God’s love.