Messy Spirituality
Allow me to introduce you to Michael (aka Muppet). I can’t recall the reason for his nickname…suffice it to say he was a teen, he was “the schiz”, and really could have been called anything he wanted to be. He was just that cool.
I met Muppet when he was 16 years old at a church camp where my husband and I were counselors for its Senior High Week. He had wit, charm, a Donny Osmond smile and despite his lean and lanky frame, he had a commanding presence. Standing at 6′3” and having a Type A personality, he towered about his peers. They all immediately looked up to him, both literally and figuratively.
Muppet had never stepped foot inside a church and was quick to tell you he had “his own thang goin’ on”. Not in so many words, mind you.
But, he was Gothic and screamed it at the top of his lungs through his image. Dressed in black from head to toe, his wardrobe consisted of black, baggy, wide-leg jeans complete with hanging chains, black combat boots and a variety of black, death metal T’s. A black studded dog collar finished his look. Never mind that it was 90 plus degrees…in August…with air conditioning only in the cafeteria. He wanted to make a statement. And he did exactly that.
God saw to it that Muppet ended up in my “family group” for the week. Little did I know, it wasn’t because of what I might teach Muppet, but rather what he would teach me. I remember thinking…’if God ever gets a hold of this kid, big things are gonna happen.’ He had a brilliant mind, was an outstanding musician, and underneath his mop of dyed black hair, his eyes were genuine. I prayed for his heart to be open.
Long story short…Muppet accepted Christ that week and was baptized in the camp’s pool. His parents made the one hour drive to be there. And then, the coolness began to happen. Before the week was out, he had composed a humorous worship song for the talent show entitled “Satan is a Turd”. Oh, what I would give to have those lyrics and guitar chords today. Hilarious. With a contagious zeal, he planned and talked about all he wanted to do with his talents to serve God. He planned on forming a Goths for God group, leading worship for VBS, joining a worship team at his home church, etc., etc., etc. His excitement was contagious. Everyone was inspired. We celebrated, we laughed and we cried and when the week was over, we said our good-byes. Then, the not-so-coolness began to happen.
What do God loving, church going, mature Christians do about a Gothic teen with a tender heart and zeal for God?
Why, they teach him the error of his ways, of course. Linkin Park? Oh, no, son, here is an Amy Grant CD to listen to, I’m sure you’ll find it inspirational. Death Metal T-shirts? Oh, no, my dear, we can’t have you wearing that in front of our wee ones at VBS…maybe leading worship just isn’t your thing quite, yet. You know, until you’ve matured in Christ. Goths for God? The church was filling up with them. But, oh, my! You really need to think about changing your friends, afterall, we are to be in the world, not of it.
Trying to stuff Muppet’s spirituality into a nice little box was like taking the proverbial square peg…a beautifully, wonderfully, divinely made peg…and cramming it with all your might into a round hole. It wasn’t designed to fit. Oh sure, try hard enough…break off a few corners…splinter some wood…chisel it down just so and presto! You have yourself a fit. But at what cost? For Muppet that cost was too great. He found himself like a fish on dry land in a place that preached about healing water. A stinking, unwelcome fish at that. Eventually, the Church succeeded in crushing his spirit, and with it, all his hopes and dreams for serving this awesome God who loved him all the while, just as he was…just as he was created to be. Can’t you just hear the whispers of fellow believers as they “helped him to the door”? “Poor soul, I guess his faith just wasn’t strong enough.” Or my personal favorite…”He must not have ever been saved in the first place.” Maddening!
We’ve long since moved and eventually lost touch with Muppet. Last I heard he was living on and off the streets and had progressed from cigarettes, to weed, to hard drugs. I often find myself thinking of him and asking God to protect him. I wish I was able to tell him then what I know to be true today. That spirituality doesn’t often come in a pretty little box with a pretty little bow. Religiosity often does. That God is all about meeting us where we are and transforming us in his time from the inside out, not the outside in. That if you want to find Jesus, you’ll most likely find him in the midst of burned-out believers, moral misfits, religious incompetents…men and women whose lives are, well, messy. I would quote Michael Yaconelli from his book Messy Spirituality when he said…
What landed Jesus on the cross was the preposterous idea that common, ordinary, broken, screwed-up people could be godly!…
…What drove Jesus’ enemies crazy were his criticisms of the “perfect” religious people and his acceptance of the imperfect nonreligious people. The shocking implication of Jesus’ ministry is that anyone can be spiritual. Scandalous? Maybe. Maybe truth is scandalous. Maybe the scandal is that all of us are in some condition of not-togetherness, even those of us who are trying to be godly. Maybe we’re all a mess, not only sinful messy but inconsistent messy, up-and-down messy, in-and-out messy, now-I-believe-now-I-don’t messy, I-get-it-now-I-don’t messy, I-understand-uh-now-I-don’t-understand messy…[and perhaps] messiness is the workshop of authentic spirituality, the greenhouse of faith, the place where the real Jesus meets the real us.”
I would tell him, “You’re loved and loveable just as you are. And oh, by the way, Muppet…cool shirt.”
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