Crazy Love

I spent a large part of my life believing that if you weren't suffering, then you were doing it wrong.

I'm talking about Christianity, of course.

Our Sunday school class is doing a study of the book Crazy Love by Frances Chan. Chapter four of the book is about lukewarm Christianity, and it left me a little perplexed.

The chapter is meant to be very convicting, and many people in our group undoubtedly felt that conviction. I, however, just got a little perturbed. I remarked that  "I'm just over-analytical of books in general," but I admit that I may feel a little twinge of jealousy for those who got more out of the chapter than I. In fact, I found the author arrogant and manipulative, which is probably what closed my mind to the message he was trying to get across.

Statements like these fueled my fire:

• "According to the account in Luke chapter eight, when a crowd started following Him, Jesus started speaking in parables -- 'so that' those who weren't genuinely listening wouldn't hear it. The fact is, He just wasn't interested in those who fake it" (66).
• My thought: So Jesus only wanted to talk to those who wanted to hear?  How does this resolve itself with the Great Commission?  This statement implies that Jesus was being tricky to weed out the "unchosen." I read the scripture, and I'm having a hard time reconciling it to the Jesus who reaches out to those who need him most desperately. This feels like a predestination conversation, and I'm not up for that right now. I should definitely study this further. 

• "I think most American churchgoers are the soil that chokes the seed because of all the thorns" (67). 
• My thought: This is a gross overgeneralization. I don't know this man, and I'm reasonably certain that he's never been to College Station, Texas, Rice, Texas, or any other number of places in America.  It's simply not possible for him to have the realm of experience to decide that "most American churchgoers" are anything. To determine that the people of the church are the hindrance that keeps others from growing in Christ is ludicrous.  At least that's what I think.

• "Lukewarm people are thankful for their luxuries and comforts, and rarely consider trying to give as much as possible to the poor. They are quick to point out, 'Jesus never said money is the root of all evil, only that the love of money is.' Untold numbers of lukewarm people feel 'called' to minister to the rich; very few feel 'called' to minister to the poor" (75).
• My thought: Are we just not supposed to notice the "love of" part?  Is it okay to notice it as long as we don't point it out?  What exactly are these rich people ministries he speaks of?  Are rich people immune to the need for ministry simply because they have wealth? 

As you can see, I was so wrapped up in my vehement disagreement with these statements and others that I found it impossible to search for the positives. I've read the chapter again, and I did find redeeming qualities -- the fact that I don't always (I'll go so far as to say "often") put Christ first and the idea that I don't save up love for those who have wronged me (or my family) again and again. There is one person in particular whom I have deliberately shut out from my life because I find him to be "not worth it." It's sad, but it's true, and I freely admit it. I suppose there is an element of conviction there.

But what is conviction? This author gives me the impression that it's finding reasons to feel really terrible about yourself, and I have a hard time with that. It goes back to what I spent a big part of my life believing -- that if I wasn't suffering, then I wasn't being a good Christian.

Scriptures like "The joy of the Lord is your strength" (from Nehemiah 8) and "delight yourself in the Lord and He will give you the desires of your heart" (from Psalm 37) teach me that going around in a funk all the time is no way to be. Radical Christianity is not necessarily living in poverty, weeping constantly at the terrible ills of the world.

I believe my best witness is to be positive and glorify God in all things, giving Him credit out loud for all of my blessings. I know I'm not worthy of any of the gifts I've received in my life, large or small, and the fact that I serve a God of grace is reason to rejoice rather than a reason to lament. Does that mean I am successful 100% of the time? Absolutely not! But I find little value in rolling around in my imperfections and great value in finding new ways to glorify God in my life.

All of this feels a little like "blah blah blah...I thought the book was stupid." That's not the case at all. I'm glad that the book has made a positive impact on many people, even many of the people I know. I'm looking forward to the next chapter that is titled "Serving Leftovers to a Holy God." I won't be in class for the discussion because I'll be at a baseball tournament. Should I feel more guilty about that than I do?

After this reading, discussion, and lengthy post, I've come to realize one thing.  That I am enough for God. I don't have to clean myself up and do a better job at Christianity to earn his love and grace. He gives that to me freely, whether this book offers me a great conviction or not. Do I want to do a better job serving my Father God every day? Definitely. Do I feel humbled and unworthy in the presence of my Savior?  Every day. Do I think the author of this text went a little overboard in his arrogant attempt to humble believers?  Yes, I do.

But I'll finish the book and maybe my opinion will change.

This post isn't funny or witty, but it's an exercise in what I tell students - sometimes writing about a subject is the best way to figure out how you feel about it.  Don't misconstrue my musings as me considering myself a Biblical scholar who has it all figured out because there's probably nothing farther from the truth.

Please don't decide to hate the book because of my one-sided, out of context excerpts because that's just not fair to Mr. Chan. You can visit his web site at http://www.crazylovebook.com/.  If you read or have read the book, let me know what you think. If nothing else, it's been very thought-provoking for me.