Arguably the one term that carries more baggage than any other, “Christian” is a label defined in a million different ways. It’s a subculture and religion that defined me as I was growing up and a classification I raged against as it fell out of vogue.
It’s a word that on one hand articulates my deepest longings, and on the other a caricature that I love to make fun of.
I believe that in its truest mystical form, Christianity is a journey – both personal and corporate – marked by allegiance to and apprenticeship under the historical Jesus of Nazareth. Christians confess this Jesus as utterly preeminent, and believe that he is raised from the dead. Truly, that he is the Anointed One spoken of by the ancient prophets and written about in the Holy Bible.
Does it all seem a little too lofty? Too many choir robes and an excessive amount of stained glass? That’s why I write about a Christianity that is For The Rest Of Us…
Let me throw something out there for you to consider:
Christianity, I believe, is a state of being and a way of living that is available to everyone regardless of race, gender, orientation, social standing, or nose-picking technique. I do not, however, believe that it is for everyone. By that I mean that many people (most people?) cultivate a spiritual palate that makes Christianity seem bland at best and nauseating at worst.
There is another group of people, though, that love being Christian. They are proficient and polished. They are the elite that the religious world looks to as the Policy Makers. They are the Gatekeepers. They shed tears of holy water over the sins of the earth, which they define as everyone else.
And then there are the rest of us.
There is very little that we are sure of, and on our own merit even less that we are worthy of. We were the abandoned, discarded and hopeless. And yes, we sin; if something stinks around here, it’s probably because of us.
But I believe with all my heart that hope begins where mushrooms grow.
That is what I write about: Christianity for the Rest of Us.