This past weekend I was honoured to go to an Afrikaans modeling competition, it was fun. Now before I am judged by everyone who reads this, please note that I have always been someone who struggles to bring forth sarcasm in a written sentence. The first sentence was supposed to be laced in it.
Anyway, as like any show you go to, one must buy a ticket to get in, so we bought them and then as we walked in, we had our tickets torn in half and our hands stamped to show that we could come and go as we pleased. The show then went forth, and time seemed to stagnate. After the show we headed home and I noticed the word “processed” had been inked onto to the top of my right hand. It didn’t quite feel to nice, but I wasn’t quite sure why.
The next day the words will still on my hand ( I promise I do shower ) but I just couldn’t shake this uncomfortable feeling. So the day progressed and this word kept resounding in my head. “processed” I didn’t like it, I didn’t like the fact that I could be processed, or was processed, just another person, just another R50 coming in ( Yes I did pay to watch the show )
I have always been repulsed by being just another human, just wasting oxygen, because I believe our God has created us for far more than just breathing air and getting from weekend to weekend or one big event to another event. It made me think about strangely enough, about cheese, and how you get different qualities of cheese. Now, I love cheese, I could eat cheese any time of the day, in fact sometimes when there is an all nighter on the cards, I always end up cutting myself a big slice to chew on. I love it. Now in my love for cheese, my mother decided to try save costs back when I still stayed at home, and bought processed cheese, ah the disgust, now I know there are some that love it, but I cant stand the of this fake cheese. It felt like it was missing something, even though it came wrapped in a nice shiny container. This was no laughing matter. I rebuked my mother and told her never to befoul my mouth with processed cheese again
Now I believe that Christianity is similar to cheese in way, you get mature Christians, and new Christians, and Christians that are kinda in the middle, but you also get processed Christians. And sometimes I think we all fall in to processed Christianity, tamed, understandable, boring. The mentality of: Let’s get as many people into a church service and get them out as quickly as possible, hoping that they will leave content, which yes is good, but something I have realized is that God, cant be processed. He is raw, and so powerful, sometimes we want God to work in the constraints of our own boxes, but all he is wanting is our souls, not a few pieces of our shattered souls, but all of it. I speak for myself here to, because it is hard to let go of the things we try so desperately hold onto.
I wondered do I go to church and yearn just for a touch of God, then leave content with what I have received, and God is sitting there super frustrated cause he just wants to use me and take me to places that were beyond even my dreams. This past week at church I remember being frustrated with God because I felt so so distant, and said, “God I just want to feel you, I am tired of just KNOWING you are God” and then God answered in way that still doesn’t make sense, but I was then as the service went on I felt so compelled to minister to a friend in need. But I wrestled my with my own desires to be close to God. Called to minister out of my desert, out my dryness. After we had finished ministering to our friend, I left the room, in absolute awe of our God. And while I was writing this I realized why God chose me to minster out of my desert, because then I know I have no room to boast, and HAVE to acknowledge God was fully in control.
Anyway, what I wanted to tell you, and I feel I may have done it in a long winded way, is that we cant live a processed Christianity. We are called to live an exciting lifestyle that brings people life and by our then by our lifestyles people are compelled to find out about this ridiculous God, that is crazily head of heels for them.