God's Not Dead ... Prove It

First off (and I know I’m going to get flack for this) I haven’t seen God’s Not Dead. But really, I didn’t need to. I just read a plot summary online. I wasn’t impressed.

Now, it’s been clear to me ever since I heard the Newsboys were involved that this is propaganda. The revamped band (that really should have disbanded when Peter Furler decided to step down) is the major backer of the movie, the title comes from a line in one of their songs, and the climax of the movie revolves around a Newsboys concert. I don’t know about you, but that smells of propaganda to me.

But it’s more frustrating than that; (and this is where I’m really going to take off) it feeds into a stereotype that Christians have of the Big Bad Secular College, and the world can be won to Christ through philosophical arguments.

First off, Kevin Sorbo’s character would have been fired for making his students sign a statement that God is dead. It clearly infringes on the basic right of religious freedom. Last I checked, that was part of the Constitution. If we want to be taken seriously in the modern world, I suggest we make sure our Christian movies are a little more factual, instead of (in my maybe-not-so-humble opinion) stupid.

Second, arguing philosophy doesn’t change hearts. Love does. The Early Church fathers knew this: “If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge … I am nothing.” (1 Corinthians 13:1-2 NIV 1984)

Yet here we are, and “the Number 1 Christian Movie in America” espouses knowledge, not love.

I think if we look back at the Bible, Jesus got in very few philosophical arguments, and the main people he argued with were the Pharisees. And he had some choice words. His cousin, John the Baptist, called them a brood of vipers (as did Jesus in Matthew 23). In fact, in Matthew 23, you see all sorts of colorful epithets for the Pharisees. They cared more for the law and words and philosophical arguments than they did about loving the people of God. And Jesus called them out for that.

Jesus said his disciples would be known by their love (John 13:34-35). So where is it?

Because personally, I am sick of words. I am sick of arguments.


I grew up in the Church and have gone to multiple Christian schools. I’ve heard every single argument. And I found that those arguments don’t change people.

Love changes people.

God is Love. So, why aren’t we being loving? Why do we not visit those in prison, serve food to the homeless, give shelter to those who need it? Heck, why don’t we tithe regularly? (Pastors have to live of a portion of your tithe, by the way. Just think about that.)

If we are the hands and feet of Jesus, then why are so many of us still, leaving the work of many to but a few?

If we are little Christs (which is what “Christian” means), why do we throw verbal and emotional stones those we deem living in sin?

My mother pounded this truth into my brain: People don’t care what you know until they know that you care. (Cheesy, I know. But true nonetheless.)

If God is not dead, which I know with all my heart, then we must prove it. Not through arguments. But by being Him to the world.

 

Looking for Love and Finding Family

YAY! It's Valentine's Day! Or as I used to call it, "Singles' Awareness Day (S.A.D.)"

Usually I celebrate today by going out and buying a big bottle (or 4) of my favorite soda (Vanilla Coca-Cola), finding some movie, preferably sans romance, and despising almost all the couples who dared enter my sight.

  
[And counting down the days until my birthday (5 more days!).]

As wonderful and productive as that sounds, I think I need to find a new way to celebrate the day dedicated to love. Sadly, as I have no girlfriend, likely never will, I am rather limited in finding ways to celebrate.

Lately I read an article by Eve Tushnet, called "Coming Out Christian," where I found this funny little reminder: "In the Gospel of Mark, Jesus promises that those who lose their homes or families for His sake will receive new homes and families, 'a hundred times more now.'" She goes on to talk about how people like me have been able to find other families among friends. I, as a recent graduate, couldn't help but think of my own "new family." My family made of friends.

After all, love isn't just about romance. Love can be found anywhere from anyone. It can be from a "special someone," a sibling, or a dear friend. So why should Valentine's Day be limited to just celebrating romantic love? Why can we not celebrate all loves?

I have never found my "twoo wuv," but I have found people who love me as friends, who became my "other family" while I was 1,000 miles and two timezones away from my home. And I want to celebrate them today.

Pictured to the left is my "big brother" with his wife. Ironically enough, I don't even remember meeting him the first time! It was within the first 48 hours of being dropped off at college and I was essentially stoned. No drugs, yet I have extreme few memories of "Welcome Weekend."  He's told me that we met at the "Hoedown" that happens every year for the matriculating freshman class. But you'd have to ask him. He says I looked shell-shocked and I'll be the first to say I was at the time.

It was the second time I met him that I remember, mostly because I knew that I should know his name, but I didn't, and decided to ask him what it was again. And from such auspicious beginnings, I found someone I'd always wanted: a big brother. This guy is so much like me, it's scary. Except he's married (EXTREMELY happily so), much wiser, and older than me. He has been a mentor, a brother, and a true friend. And I even served as a groomsman at his wedding!

Me and my First Friend drinking Wodfamchocsods.

And there's my crazy "first friend," as I call him, who invited me to share his wonderful and loving family, and who was the first guy to welcome me during a campus visit to Taylor. I don't think he knew what he was getting into by offering me friendship. Then again, I didn't know what it was like to have a friend. Thankfully, he's been willing to help me learn. Not that I've made it easy on him. No, sir! But he's given me plenty of grief over the years too. Usually in the form of deadpan sarcasm masquerading as complete sobriety and seriousness.

But I know that I wouldn't be the man I am today with his and my big brother's support. They were first people I "came out" to. They helped me through the struggles and the tears, and celebrated all the joys and victories.

Then there's my first "other family," the first group of people to accept me as their own. This group of crazy cats who came together because of our love of a kids' radio program: Adventures in Odyssey.

Here's a picture of what we called "The Adventures In Odyssey Club," the people who comprised my first real friends. We went to Colorado for a Spring Berak Trip, raised money making Wodfamchocsods (A.K.A. World-Famous Chocolate Sodas), brought Katie Leigh, a famous voice actress to Taylor, and got into all sorts of crazy shenanigans. (Word to the wise: don't poke, jab, tickle, or otherwise maliciously touch a guy who wrestled in high school. Brawling tends to ensue and you will lose.)

And I cannot forget this guy, usually known as "The Beard!" This picture doesn't even begin to do his facial hair justice. But, it does accurately describe our friendship.

But, while he does enjoy finding creative ways to kill me, like a bazooka to the face, the Jawa Jihad, and the Oxford Book of DEATH (!), among other things, he is a stalwart, steady friend. His support helped me come out of my shell, gave me shelter during more than one college break where I got kicked off campus (along with everyone else, mind you!), and invited me to share in his world, an honor I know I didn't deserve. But, friendship and love isn't about deserving, now is it?

Finally, there's my special girl friend (notice the crucial space there, all you romantic types!). She and I visited the same campus the same day. Both of us had no clue what we were doing or what was going on. And I'm certain that we'd both readily admit that we were scared out of our minds that day. Because of that, we formed a special bond. We've been friends ever since that crazy day and supported each other. And, because we hang out so much, we got teased and asked if we were dating. (Oh, the mischief we got into!) Our friendship is unique. As, really all my true friendships are. We have been each other's confidante, ally, editor (because we're both writers), and support. And I can't express how glad I am to have her in my life.

These pictures and descriptions don't begin to describe the family I found. There's The Beard's Left Hand Man, who befriended me of his own free will, along with all of The Beard's so-called "Minions." And who hounded me much of J-Term, a refreshing change. Usually, I'm the hound, so having someone daily prod me into spending time with him was one of the coolest things I've experienced. It was nice to be wanted.

There's all the fun, mildly weird people in my major who accepted me and talk with me on a regular basis. There's my sisters in Christ who pray for me and support me whenever I'm in need. And (I can't forget) there's the brothers I found living on a near-fraternity which used to scare my introverted self beyond all reason. (Love The Brotherhood!)

Family doesn't have to be related through genetics. All it takes is the willingness to love another person. To invite them into your life and be willing to remain a part of theirs as long as you can. Family is made in love.

No, there is no romantic heartthrob in my life at the moment. But I can still celebrate a holiday dedicated to love. I can celebrate my family.

A Letter to My Freshman Self

I'm a senior, about to graduate college, about to step into the real world. I'm taking what will be my last class of my undergraduate career (I hope). It's strange and I've been reflecting on all the things I've learned. One of the questions my professor asked the class is what we might say to a new writer who's not sure if they're cut out for writing. I started thinking about who I was as a freshman and a new writer and what I wish people had told me. So, I decided to write a letter saying what I would tell myself if I could.

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Dear Nathan,

I know you are just starting on your college journey, whereas mine is almost finished. I know all the hopes, fears, joys, and wonders you will experience. And I know exactly what you're feeling right now.

"Oh. Crap. What have I gotten myself into?"

You see all the kids around you, all the peers, the upperclassmen, the future novelists. You see all their work, all their abilities, and just like that, you feel woefully inadequate. You feel like a fraud. You don't write 15,000 words a day. You don't have 50 novels bouncing around your head. You don't even have a single novel written yet!

Guess what: that's okay.

You don't have to be them. You don't have to be a star child for your major. You don't have to be anything except yourself. And I need you to listen to me now because, while I am about to pull the "God card," it's still what you need to hear.

God didn't create you to be anyone but yourself.

He didn't create you to be your parents, who seem so smart that you feel like an idiot around them, depending on the subject. Yes, Mom was in the Talented and Gifted program and read the dictionary twice because she was bored. Yes, Dad started his first business when he was twelve and created bikes from scrap metal at the same time. But you're not them. You were never meant to be.

He didn't create you to be your peers, who scare the crap out of you with their well-thought-out political views and novels they write in their spare time, while you feel like a horrible writer who doesn't belong looking up at them. Look at them again. They are not you. You are not them, and you aren't meant to be.

He didn't create you to be your unborn twin, Thomas. I know you like to live in the land of "What If," especially in your darker moments, fantasizing about what a truly wonderful life he would have had if he'd been born instead, and how much better than you he'd be. Hear me when I say this: He. Is not. You.

You weren't created to be all the people you compare yourself to. You were meant to be who God created you to be. You were created with a special purpose in mind. Not your mom's purpose. Not your big brother's purpose. Your own purpose.

I can't tell you what that is. I'm still figuring it out for myself. But God made you for a reason. He created you wacky, a guy designed to fit in a very special part of his plan. Don't try to be someone else. You weren't made to be anyone other than you. And you will change and evolve. That's okay. But remember, at your core, you are designed for a reason. No one else can fill the role you're supposed to play.

So be you, and no one else.

Best wishes,
Nathan

Where have all the people gone?

As some of you may know, I've been dealing with some personal issues. My grandmother is in extremely poor health and is expected to die soon. I've been trying to deal with the emotions and thoughts of this, and will write about it soon. But, instead of giving you guys a bad blog post that wasn't thought through, I'll give you something worth reading. Here's an article (with a few edits) I wrote for my college's newspaper, The Echo. Enjoy!

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I’m not sure why I have this problem.

Maybe it’s my own fault because I like to engage in controversial topics. Maybe it’s because I read the surprisingly still-active “Taylor Confessions” page on Facebook. Maybe it’s because I know people who have been affected by it, and that has colored my views. Maybe it’s because I value people far above logic and arguing, and I realize life is messier than we think.

All I know is that I am getting sick and tired of the intellectual games and arguments surrounding homosexuality in the Church.

First we have our right-wing conservatives who often proclaim how wrong homosexuality is, sometimes with grace, but more often with judgment and anger, especially in public forums (*cough* Facebook *cough*). Yes, I know this happens because I used to act that way myself.

Then we have those who identify themselves in the LGTBQ (Lesbian/Gay/Bi/Transsexual/Queer) community. And they respond in anger at the judgment they feel and argue about how it’s not wrong to be gay.

Black and White. Good and Bad. Right and Wrong. Both sides claiming to have the correct view.

And it goes back and forth, argument after argument, until it descends into name-calling, buffoonery, and all caps with excessive punctuation. It’s all rhetoric and childish idiocy.

No one convinces the other with their arguments. Nothing changes. We just hurt each other.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I used to be that way (on the right-wing side). I knew all the arguments (still do) about why homosexuality’s bad. I knew what the Bible said. I thought I knew everything. And then I met someone who is gay.

Now, when I say “gay,” I mean “someone who experiences a strong sexual attraction/preference for members of the same sex.” Homosexuality is a spectrum of experiences and responses. Some people actively pursue same-sex relationships. Some decide to become celibate. But all these people have stories. Stories go far beyond black-and-white.

There are the blood-reds of rejection and pain. There are the deep-sea-blues of loneliness, depression and fervently desired love and acceptance. There are the bright, vibrant greens of finding people who show care, love and support.

Life is messy. It doesn’t offer easy answers. And it angers me when life stories are reduced to arguments where someone has to be right. When pain is reduced to rhetoric.

I know how preferable it is to stay inside our own little boxes where we have all the answers to life, the universe and homosexuality. But we aren’t meant to live inside boxes. And having all the answers won’t bring us fulfillment. Just look at Paul in 1 Corinthians 13. The Bible calls us to love. We can’t do that until we get to know each other’s stories.

No, it’s not comfortable. And yes, you might have to wrestle with some tough questions. You might have to realize that (gasp!) you don’t have all the answers. That’s okay.

Stop the rhetoric games. Start listening to the stories.