We read to know we are not alone. ~ C.S. Lewis
Last night I started reading Lori Smith's
A Walk with Jane Austen, and I've read several things so far that let me know I'm not alone. Smith is a kindred spirit in many ways:
It seems as well that there's something about modern Christianity in America that can encourage a kind of overspiritual weirdness. I went to coffee with one guy, and he prayed loudly for our coffee time together, and then asked me questions like, "So what is the Lord teaching you?" which were popular in my high-school youth group, but I've since come to loathe, particularly from near strangers.
Modern Christian America is plagued by the sacred/secular dichotomy. If we are talking about the Lord, wearing T-shirts or bracelets about Jesus, calling a plumber who also loves Jesus, those are good things. Other things, regular, normal things, are suspect. All of which may make for Christians who fear and cannot relate to the world in which they live. The church is full of guys who believe this. I could never go out with them, and they probably think I'm not a very good Christian anyway.
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If I could, I wouldn't talk to anyone ever before 10:00 a.m., best friends included.
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I could tell you how to confess your sins and be forgiven "of all unrighteousness," even the things you didn't know you did. But I didn't actually believe in grace for myself, not on a daily basis. And this has been my great struggle: I've often felt like it's impossible to keep up with my confession. I'm simply too wrong in my core. As soon as I confess and receive forgiveness and occasionally feel the depth of that, the cleanness of being right with God, I set off on another pattern of wrong thinking, where I'm the center of my universe, where even when I try to put other people first and love God (and don't always put that much energy into that), I fail miserably and am aware of the fact that seemingly two seconds after I've been irrevocably washed clean, I am dirty again, like filthy rags.
I'm looking forward to more time in this book.
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