Thirty Something

An article by Don Quixote    3 Comments

Well the day came and went with little or no fanfare. I worked and no one even knew.

I turned 30.

The world didn’t stop.

I didn’t keel over dead.

Nothing changed.

So, there you have it. Thirty, it ain’t no thing. Welcome to the world of being a responsible adult I guess. Time to start thinking about 401ks, retirement funds, mutual accounts, and all those adult things. Time to put away the comic books and the Spawn toys. Time to grow up and be a real man, well whatever that means.

I’ve spent my time reflecting, I’ve spent my time pondering, poking, proding and it amazes me how different life looks from this vantage point. I was such an ass when I was younger. Man did I know everything, I had all the answers, everything was black in white, everything was cut and dry. For anyone who might read this someday who went to college with me. I appoligze for being a huge ass and not having a clue what life is really all about. Man was a judgemental prick to the entire world. Granted, I never ran around saying that long hair was wrong, non-christian music was wrong, that tatoos were wrong, but I held my share of baggage on what I thought was right and wrong… Boy was I wrong.

Often times in this life we forget the humanity of others, we ignore the humanity in ourselves, and we deny the humanity in Christ. There is no lover for the broken man, only a swift kick in the groin as we pass. There is no hand extended for the man who has fallen, only looks of disgust at his obvious failure. If the man is a Christian, God help him, because I certainly wont and quite honestly, I don’t think God will either.

I recall a time when I was younger, gosh, it must be 6-7 years ago (has it really been that long?) when we’d be in a Youth Ministers meeting and we’d hear about one of our brothers in arms struggling in his life. Did we pray from him? Did we formulate a plan to go and support him, encourage him, and just be his friend? Nope, he became the butt of that weeks jokes. I’d like to believe that I wasn’t one who made them, but I certainly recall laughing at them and not speaking up. And now I am one of those fallen, I’m sure the butt of more than one joke, rumor, gossip and all that goes with it. I am sure that more than once the question, “So whatever happened to that Bob Soulliere guy?” Perhaps not, perhaps as is my hope, no one really cares or remembers anymore. But I’m sure that’s not the case, we still get that subtle pleasure in feeling that we are somehow better than someone who has meesed up or made mistakes (the whole while denying the fact that we ourselves are sinners) and I’m sure that more than one person has taken joy in that fact.

Numberous times my friend Tom has asked if he can link this hap-hazard journal so that others might read it and I constantly put him off. Why would I want to invite dozens of spectators into my life to judge me all over again? That’s were the real rub lies. Fear. I believe that it comes from the book Dune, but there is a line that goes “Fear is the mind killer.” And it is. Why don’t I want Tom to link this? Fear, fear that all those people who turned their back on my many years ago will just turn around and do it again. Why invite rejection again? Why expose people to my sins, my short commings, my struggles? So that I might become the object of gossip, ridicule, and rumor once more?

As Christians (and yes, despite the claims of some, I’m still one), we live so many lies. As “ministers” we live even more. We have to isolate ourselves from those that we try to minister to. We pretend that we do not struggle, we pretend that we do not sin, we pretend that all is right in the world. As a result those in our congregations carry on the same pretending because we are all afraid fo what might happen if people found out who we really are. That our marriages are perfect, that we struggle with drinking, that we lust after the decons wife privately, the the elder’s son is really gay. Oh, we all pretend to have the acceptible sins, “I struggle with gossip, I struggle with doubt, I struggle with reading my Bible on a daily basis, I struggle with trust and other such crap.” I had a minister I worked with who said that yes indeed he too sinned, he had a problem with biting his finger nails. I’m telling you the guy was a child molester and addicted to porn if you want my opinion, the guy had some skeleton’s in his closted that he didn’t want known. But you know what? It doesn’t make him any different than I am (though I am sure he would argue with that), he’s a sinner same as me, mine is just more public I guess.

See, when your face down in the mud, you get a new perspective on the world. You begin to see that people who you thought were so different really aren’t so different after all. It’s tough to judge a man for being dirty when you’re covered in the same shit he is. Then this change comes over you, suddenly you see people as the same, lost scared, hurt and looking for support. You’re more willing to reach out your hand and help someone out. There is no judgment any more, only acceptance. You remember what it means to be forgiven. You remember what love really means. You are filled with compassion because you know what it feels like to have your head stepped on and the taste of dirt in your mouth.

So here I stand, covered in mud. Deal with it. I have and I believe I am the better for it. We are so quick to cast aside people in the church because of sin. We are so quick to drive ministers away who stumble and fall, I mean after all, what could a sinner possibly have to teach us about God? We who are perfect (well, almost, we do have a few minor issues), need someone who is even more perfect to lead us. What would a man who’s failed at so many things in his life have to teach us about love, and forgiveness and reaching a lost world? He’s usless to the kingdom of God now. That one mistake has cost him everything. I had a fellow minister tell me years ago when all my crap went around, that I had ruined the life that God had planned for me, and that I would have to spend the rest of my life praying just to have the hope of finding my salvation again. It’s a wonder why so many “fallen” ministers turn their back on God and the church.

I’m tired of hiding, I’m tired of pretending, I’m tired of hurting. So here I am. Love me, hate me, slander me, mocke me, whatever the hell you have to do to make yourself feel better. But I’m still here, and I’m not going anywhere. And when I’m sitting across from you at the table in heaven, I’m still going to smile and ask if you’d like me to pass you the salt. I know that God loves me, I know that I’ve made mistakes, and will until the day I die continue to make them. Some will be minor, some will be major, but I understand now that all those things are part of real life. And that this real life is filled with real people. So you play church with all the perfect people, I’ll stand down here in the mud and help the rest of mankind.