I have a face that prompts the question, “Are you okay?” quite a bit. I just have a stern look about me. Some might call it by another name, but to keep my internet presence pure (el-oh-el), we’ll just keep it at “stern.”
One time my dear friend yelled at me from across the church lobby, “Fix your face!!” Which was very helpful.
My face can give off the vibe that things aren’t always good with me.
I’m not here to talk about my face though. I’m here to talk about guilt.
I was once asked in a group setting, “What’s something you’re struggling with right now?” And instead of being honest and answering, “Nothing! I’m actually doing really well at the moment,” I spouted out some nonsense that I pulled out of nowhere because everyone else that answered before me was struggling with one thing or another.
It felt weird to be the only one who wasn’t.
As if, because I wasn’t struggling with anything, I probably wasn’t assessing my life properly. There probably was some hidden sin, or lack of discipline, or root of bitterness I was hiding in my heart.
I felt guilty for not feeling guilty.
I felt bad about feeling good.
My faith was formed during the young, restless, reformed years of church culture. Intense preaching from men that demanded perfection, lack of vulnerability from the pulpit, and a consistent focus on how terrible we are as humans led a lot of us in my generation to believe that if any minute of our day wavered from a focus on God, we were doomed. I spent so much time trying to find all that was wrong with me as a sinner that I missed the abundant love Christ has to offer to me.
That might be a little strong. But also, it’s not. YouTube sermons and podcasts that popped off in my college years were hyper focused on the wretched, sinful state of humanity. And don’t get me wrong. We are sinful. But we are also glorious ruins.
Dan Allender writes in his book Leading With A Limp: “To be like Jesus means that we must enter the complexity of both dignity and depravity. We are made in the image of God-glorious. We have taken on Adam and Eve’s hiding and blame-ruin. We are glorious ruins, bent glory. And it shows up in every moment of our existence until we one day see Jesus as he is and become as pure as he is pure.
We are both awful and awesome at the same time.“
Awful and awesome.
We are good.
And.
We sin.
We are glorious in our ruin because of Jesus.
And yet…I still feel bad about feeling good.
We don’t have a good theology of celebration. We have nailed our theology of sin and rebellion, and we know that we need a Redeemer. But what do we do with that redemption in the here and now? How do we live in our glory, given by Christ? I mean, we are his co-heirs, are we not?
On one side, it’s like we (I) need to keep our ‘pride’ in check – don’t feel too good and forget how sinful you are.
One the other side, we (I) like to play the game of “who has it worst” – the classic one-upper of how terrible our circumstances or current struggles are. Because it sometimes feels like pity from another is the easiest place to form connection. In reality, pity is where obligation grows, not love or relationship.
I think vulnerability is where connection, relationship, and love begins to grow. And not gross vulnerability that tries to hot-wire intimacy with another. Authentic, honest, this-is-where-I’m-at vulnerability.
And sometimes this-is-where-I’m-at is a good place.
“I actually feel really connected to God right now and it’s so sweet.”
“I had a great conversation with a coworker that was so encouraging.”
“Everything is really ordinary and normal right now and I know Jesus is near. That’s it. That’s the tweet.”
And it can be just as vulnerable to admit that you are in a good spot with Jesus as it is to admit the thing you’re keeping secret from everyone.
And it can be even more vulnerable to admit the deep joy you feel in a certain season of life because what if it ends? What if the season shifts? What if the other shoe drops?
So we self-protect and never celebrate. We feel bad about feeling good.
BUT.
If the joy of the Lord is our strength, we (I) need to start feeling good about feeling good. I need to strengthen myself and those around me with the love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, faithfulness, and self-control that the Lord gifts to me. I need to share the faith, hope, and love that is growing deep roots in my heart – because someone might need to borrow from me for a little bit.
And when things aren’t good, I need you to share the love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, faithfulness, and self-control that the Lord gifts to YOU. I’ll need to borrow your faith, hope, and love.
And instead of feeling bad about feeling good, we (I) need to feel great about being in a position to be seen, known, and loved for all the bad and good that we (I) bring to the table. Not only by God, but by those He has placed in the world around me.
So the next time I’m in a group setting and someone asks, “What’s something you’re struggling with right now?” if I’m not struggling, I’m going to answer honestly and say, “I’m struggling to come up with an answer for that because I feel held by my Beloved and it is really sweet.”
And I won’t feel bad about it.
Kayla Smith 