5 Ways I'm the Worst at Following Jesus 29DEZ14

I am a sinner and a saint, all people of faith are. And so some judge me as a real sinner and hypocrite and I confess they are right and I am. But I also ask why they are judging me, is it out of love, or self-righteousness or an attempt to justify their decision not to believe? And I also have to ask, do you only see my faults and failings? Don't you ever see my attempts to be good, to practice my faith as God, as Jesus commands? I will try to do better. This from +Sojourners .....

5 Ways I'm the Worst at Following Jesus

by Christian Piatt 12-29-2014 | 4:05pm

As you may know by now, I’m starting a new project in which I try for a year to really, seriously understand what it means to follow Jesus in western, post-industrial 21st century society. What does that look like? Do any of us actually do it? And to what degree, seriously, are we supposed to actually be like Jesus, as opposed to finding our own way to walk a more Christ-like path on our current context?

Wind-up shoes walking. Image courtesy zimmytws/shutterstock.com

My biggest concern at the moment is that though a lot of us claim to “be Christians,” or even to follow Jesus, a lot of us don’t spend much intentional time trying to figure out what that means and what it looks like in daily life. We try not to be too crappy to other people, try not to kill, steal, adulterate (is that even a word?) or worship graven images. We try to love, and to accept love — though we still hurt each other. A lot. The world is messed up and so far from realizing the fully kingdom-inspired image of wholeness and reconciliation to which God invites us.

And at least in my theological world, that’s on us, not God. I believe, with all of my being, that the audacious vision of God’s kingdom, here and now, isn’t something we sit around and pray for God to make real for us. Like Jesus said, we can (and should) collectively do greater things than even he did. When people experienced healing in his presence, he never said, “Hey, I did that!” Rather, he always told them that it was their own faith that made them well.

That’s pretty amazing to consider. And inspiring. And terrifying.

So here I am, not so much trying to be Jesus, but trying to at least follow his life, teaching, and example better. And in taking my own personal inventory, I can see that I pretty much suck at it. That doesn’t mean I’m giving up, but it’s clear I have plenty of work to do. Here are five examples:

I like stuff. I was raised in culture in which the very economy depended on my affinity for stuff. I mean, what did George W. Bush tell us to do to help us heal from 9/11? Go shopping, of course! I try to break the habit, but dammit if stuff isn’t awesome, shiny, fun, and freaking everywhere. Maybe I need to work the twelve steps for my stuff addiction. Maybe we all do.

I want people to like me. Especially in the public sphere, my career more or less depends on it. I post a new article and watch with either a sense of self-satisfaction or dread as the page-views roll in or stall out at a trickle. I get the sales reports form my publishers and see my own self worth in the midst of the numbers. My ego is so wrapped up in my identity — more specifically, what I do — that it’s hard for me to talk about who I am without jumping to my work.

I’m critical of others. I’m a real pro at finding fault in other people. Some psychologists suggests (and yes, I dropped out of my PhD in psych, thank you) that such a critical view of the outside world is simply an obfuscation to keep us from dealing with our own lingering sense of a lack of worth. But the thing is, I’m onto the fact that, lots of days, I can be a real asshole. Maybe for me, it’s more about assuring myself that everyone else is nearly the same degree of asshole as I am. The thing is, when I lean on this kind of justification, nothing changes. If our sense of worth hinges on comparisons, we’re all screwed.

I let fear dictate my actions. It’s funny to me when people write to me about my writing being vulnerable, brave, or the like, because to me, it’s proof positive that so much of my life is simply about trying to reconcile fear and keep it in some sort of healthy context. By naming it, my hope is that it loses some of its power. But it keeps coming back, and more often than not, it weaves its way into my consciousness like some kind of virus, infecting my judgment and my perspective. If, as Paul notes, we availed ourself to a more perfect love, there would be no room for fear. Clearly got to keep that one on my to-do list.

I’m willful. One of Jesus’ most powerful phrases ever uttered, at least for me, was, “Not my will, but yours, God, be done.” It’s one thing to submit your own will to something bigger than yourself under normal circumstances — it’s entirely another to do it when you’re facing death. It’s not that I think that we’re all called to be martyrs for our faith. Hardly. But if we can’t let go of control and place our own agenda and idea of how things should be in the back seat on the basic, day-to-day stuff, how can we possibly do it when things get really serious? It’s a little trickier for me, since I’m not sure I’m on the “God has a consciousness and will like human beings” train, but I do know, when I take time to contemplate, what is for the Greater Good. And more often than not, I want to get there, but only if I can filter it through my own personal agenda first.

If I achieve nothing more than working intently on these five things in the coming year, I’m pretty sure I’ll be a great deal closer to the Jesus path I’m talking about than I am now. Of course, considering this all is being documented here on a public blog, on our podcast, and ultimately in a book, it may be a bit of a set-up.

Dammit, there I go, putting things through my own personal agenda-filter again. Starting again, again…

Christian Piatt is the creator and editor of BANNED QUESTIONS ABOUT THE BIBLE and BANNED QUESTIONS ABOUT JESUS. He co-created and co-edits the “WTF: Where’s the Faith?” young adult series with Chalice Press, and he has a memoir on faith, family and parenting called PREGMANCY: A Dad, a Little Dude and a Due Date.