Confession of a Christian- a summary of 5 minutes of my stream of conscientiousness

Disclaimer: if you read this and feel the need to provide some uplifting words of encouragement or become worried about me- please do not feel that way as, if you do, you are likely not the intended audience for this post- this is simply meant to be an honest portrayal of a brief series of thoughts of mine and what I think a lot of us can find ourselves thinking from time to time, but don't say aloud


There are a lot of posts today about Jesus dying for our sins and that people feel grateful for it. I know these are sincere and I'm so glad that people feel this way but I have a confession to make: they do nothing for me. I look at them and read the words that I've heard over and over and it's like a spiritual platitude. Just a bunch of words that don't mean anything that have been overused. Ok, Jesus died today. Maybe I should feel something. But I don't. I should feel grateful that Jesus took away my sins so that now I can be free. But free from what and what did I do? I just don't feel it. Maybe there's something wrong with me. So I feel guilty or wrong in doubtful instead. I ponder that while I make my coffee, spill it all over the place, make a giant mess of my kitchen, get pissed, swear a lot, make my fiance uncomfortable, think about how this must mean that I'm an angry person. Then I think, "maybe I'm too angry to get married. Maybe I'll make my fiance's life hell." Then I remember the paper that I needed to start earlier that I didn't start and now I'm going to inconvenience people because I was irresponsible which gets me more upset so I swear some more and storm into the other room, making said fiance feel crappier about something that isn't his fault. Then I feel hopeless and feel like I ruin everything I touch and that I can't stop ruining things because I'm too insecure and mad now and so everything is doomed to fall into a cycle of destruction that I can't fix. I think about how I'm too overwhelmed by the mistakes I keep making continually in life and all the ones I will make in the future, my sins, and insecurities and try to find solutions. There aren't any. The best one is just for everything to stop- if I stop doing anything that would cause any problem, just stop interacting with people or doing any activity whatsoever then I'd be doing less damage. But then I'd be miserable and alone. So the only way to proceed is to stop life all together. But I'm not in a space to commit suicide, besides, then I'd just make people close to me feel like crap again, I don't want them to have to deal with that and I'd be back to the issue that I started with, that "no matter what I do, I mess things up," even in my attempts to stop doing things- there must be some solution- something better than this. But it seems like there is nothing in my power that I can do to remedy or prevent my mistakes or feel free from them. And so we find ourselves at the beginning, and simultaneously the exit, of this vicious cirlce. Jesus died to forgive and free me from the things I can't- in some great and mysterious way that I can't always fully comprehend and connect but that I feel and can undoubtedly know in the depths of my hopelessness and then, in the release of the broken hopelessness that threatens to flood my being.

Jesus had a Mommy

Did  you know Jesus had a mommy? Because I didn’t. I mean, I knew his mother’s name was Mary and that he was conceived in her through the holy spirit and was born in a manger because there was no room in the inn, yadda yadda yadda, but I didn’t know He had a mommy.

I have trouble understanding a lot of His humanity, although it’s something I really crave. For example, I have trouble believing the author of Hebrews when he says, “we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin” (4:15). I have trouble with this for a lot of reasons that I won’t fully flush out right now but mostly I’m like “listen person who wrote this book who we argue about identifying, that’s bogus.” Ok, Jesus is in my heart now and is all knowing, all seeing so He knows and sees all pain in the world and understands it better than I do. Ok. But this passage is focusing on Jesus’s life. And I’m like, “Jesus didn’t have my life. He never sinned, He was part God. I’m not God, and I have sinned, that changes the entire nature of my struggles. Plus I’m a chick, plus I’ve had different struggles. Jesus hasn’t lived through the same things I’ve lived through.” Now, He’s probably lived through lots of other worse things and also, just because He didn’t sin in life didn’t mean His was easier than mine. Then there’s that whole crucifixion thing I haven’t had to deal with…
So I guess I can’t complain. But still, I can’t help but respond to that verse in Hebrews with “Psh. Jesus don’t know me!”  Even though it’s not true.

One of the things that I think I struggle a lot with in my life are all the spiritual, relational and life implications of being the only daughter of a single mother. Mother-daughter relationships are complicated (as John Mayer testified).  And having a Gilmore girls-esque relationship with a complex independent woman who came of age in the 60’s and who has stage four cancer makes it more complicated than others sometimes.

I think I speak for a lot of daughters (and I’m sure sons, although dynamics can be different) when I say that, when you are a daughter who has/has had a mommy, there is just a weight your carry with you, a weight you will always carry with you. There is baggage you carry while she’s alive- maybe expectations you’re trying to meet, ways you’re trying to care for her,  wounds you’re always trying to heal. Then there’s all the stuff/obligations/complications you carry when your mommy gets sick- logistics, possessions, bills, insurance, responsibility, fear. And then there’s this big weight of memory and loss when she’s dead and wishing you could just do all above mentioned difficulties with her all over again because it would be so much better than her not being there.  Plus, no matter how old you get or even how much your mother thinks you don’t listen to her, I’m pretty sure we all hear our mother’s voices in our heads sometimes (mine is most active when I’m driving in bad weather…) no matter how much we may try to shake it.

Having a mommy is hard. Having children is harder, I’m sure (which is partially what makes having a mommy hard because you realize she’s had it even harder). Point is, playing any role in a parent-child relationship is trying, difficult (albeit fulfilling), and a key part of the human experience.

So, after a hard year of  mommy-having, when I heard a sermon on Jesus’ last words I was surprised to learn that Jesus also had a mommy.  You see, you never hear about him living at home/interacting with His family other than when Mary and Joseph were worried sick because he disappeared to hang with his Father in the temple (Luke 2:41-52).  Mostly, He’s just 30ish year old Jesus doin’ what he do-  walking by/on seas, hangin’ with people, performing miracles, preaching, making people mad, etc.. Then there’s the occasional mention of his family by others and he generally downplays their importance, focusing on our Heavenly Father, the Church, etc. (Luke 11:27-28) Or even that time when He’s told his mother and brothers are looking for him and he gets into the semantics of the meaning of “mother” and “brothers” (Matt 12:49-50. Mark 3:33-35, Luke 8:19-21). So yeah, Jesus had a mother, but we don’t see a lot of mother-son relationship other than the son going off and doing His own thing while His mother is there, looking for him, worrying about him, treasuring things about Him in her heart.  That sounds very much like a mother- child relationship to me. Like Runaway Bunny (although for good reason- bunny runs away for the sake of it, Jesus has a purpose), Jesus runs all over the country, performing miracles, being a renegade, etc. but there Mary is- showing up where He’s preaching, right there with His friends, and of course, she follows Him to the cross. He can even ascend to heaven if He wants and you know, be God and stuff, but I like to think that no matter what, He will always be her little bunny.  Because she was  His mommy. Jesus had a mommy.

Then, there’s Jesus’ response to His mommy. Like I said, you don’t see a lot of His interactions with His mother that really denote her as special but then there’s that moment on the cross. Jesus is dying for the sins of the entire world and in a lot of pain. He doesn’t say a lot, but one of the few things He does make an effort to do is make sure that someone is taking care of His mommy. His mommy who is now a widow (a generally accepted idea given that Mary isn’t seen with Joseph later in Jesus’’ ministry and that fact that Jesus asks one of his disciples to care for her in His place). His mommy who is also a Jewish mommy, a mommy who has worried a lot, a mommy who has had to endure traveling to Egypt away from her family and going into hiding to save His life, who had to endure social scorn and struggle in the process of bringing Him into the world, a mommy who has followed Him to the cross, a mommy who will watch her son die, and a mommy who now, alone, without a husband, will have to keep on living in a world where her son is not (at least in body) and then watch his friends get killed one by one. Jesus had a mommy. A mommy with A LOT of baggage. And I think it would be naïve of me to think that Jesus didn’t carry that, even if He did downplay his human family relationships when they were brought up during His teaching.

So maybe I have trouble with Hebrews 4 and Jesus’ relatability, but when I think about Jesus and that one of His last earthly actions was to make sure His mommy was ok, I have a little less trouble. Because that tells me He gets it. Not that He didn’t before for all the other reasons, but sometimes that’s just a bunch of theology taking up my headspace. Jesus having a mommy breaks in and starts to fill my heartspace.