That's what they all say.
But seriously, I'm going to start back up on this, like, incase anyone actually cares.
I am of the very strong opinion that crying is good. Really, think about it. You just feel better after you cry. It doesn't really fix anything, but for some reason the waterworks really seem to help any situation seem not as bad.
However, crying in public, is not acceptable. Ok, let me rephrase. Openly weeping in a non designated crying-is-allowed area is not acceptable.
What is a designated crying-is-allowed area, you ask? Allow me to explain.
The movie theater: it is perfectly ok to cry in a darkened room when Titanic is playing. Seriously, how can you not cry at the end of Titanic? It's a sad movie, OKAY? Acceptable crying movies include, but are not limited to:
Forest Gump: I dare you not to cry when Jenny dies.
The Notebook: Ok, I know some people hate this one, but seriously, how sweet is it that they die HOLING HANDS! Isn't that all any of us really wants? To find a cool person to hang out with until we drop dead?
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows part 2: I will cry. And it will be acceptable.
Juno: It's super sweet and precious and crying is totally ok.
The Passion of the Christ: The whole thing is so brutal and bloody and its not close to what the actual cruelty of Roman crucifixion was like. And when I add to that He did all that for me just because he loves me and can't stand to be away from me. I'm gone. So basically from that moment when He falls and Marry sees him as a little boy and runs to Him on, I'm and endless river of salt and snot. Get over it.
At a wedding: it is perfectly acceptable to shed a tear when two people pledge to not only love each other, not only stay together forever, but to become one flesh and to create a new family. Oh wait, did I say "perfectly acceptable"? I meant, you probably don't have a soul if you don't.
When someone you know dies: Ok, self explanatory. I'm not a robot.
When you find out that you're going to see Josh Groban live in concert on July 15th: Oh yeah, that's just me. Sorry.
But other than these things, and other few exceptions, I find crying to be a mostly private activity. I usually try to hold it together in public. But I mostly fail at that.
Today at Crossroads Community Church in Cincinnati, the sermon was about the prodigal son. So naturally I wept. Openly, and loudly, and uncomfortably.
For my whole walk with God I've had no problem with a lot of the names and job descriptions He takes for himself. Lord/Master? I'm totally cool with that (in theory of course, I tend to really suck at that in actual execution a lot of the time.) Good Shepherd? Savior? Creator? Sustainer? Lover? All these things I can understand that. Those make sense to me, I can grasp those things, for the most part. Not perfectly of course, but on the whole I have no problem with those titles. But for all those titles, there is one that I do have trouble with.
Abba.
When I hear that God is my father, it can be hard for me to fully understand that. And I know I'm not alone in that.
I never understood why God chose to reveal himself to us in a name that holds such a negative connotation for so many people. For so many people their fathers were absent, or neglectful or even abusive. So when people here that God is their father, their mind immediately jumps to the man who yelled at and abused their mom. The guy who could never make it to their baseball games. The guy who couldn't bring himself to tell them that he's proud of them, or that he loves them.
But today in church I realized something. God is not a model of earthly fathers. Our earthly fathers are supposed to model themselves after the heavenly Father.
The image that God gives us of his fatherly love is pretty radical. It's an old, wealthy man, picking up his robes, dropping all his cultural dignity and sprinting to his rebellious son. Not just any son, though. A lot of times the cultural ramifications of the prodigal sons request is lost on us in 2011. But in Luke 15, when the son tells his father that he wants his share of the inheritance, he is in short telling his father that he wished he was dead. That the best that the sons life could get is if his father died.
And the father is running to this son. That's crazy love.
A son who not only asked his father to liquidate his estate to give him his money, but then used it to buy alcohol, drugs and prostitutes.
And the father is running this son. That's crazy love.
A son who, when famine struck and when his money was gone, worked with the pigs. Ancient Jewish culture 101. Pigs are unclean. You don't want to be unclean. Not that hard to work out what this made the son.
And the father is running to this son. That's crazy love.
This is the picture of God hit me in the most ridiculous way today. In a way where I wept uncontrollably in church. Golden.
It was because I think I finally understood God as father. A ridiculous, amazing father who loves His children more than anything.
So when I got the picture of Father God in my mind, I realized that I had the picture of the child of God wrong. We have the wrong view of God, and therefore we have the wrong view of our intended relationship with him. We're the rebellious, angst ridden teenager, instead of the child who looks up to Him for safety and comfort.
I was baby sitting a one year old recently (side note, Kirsten love babies) and at one point, her dad walked into the room, and in that moment I saw exactly why God reveals himself to us as a father. This little girls face lit up with the most uninhibited joy I've seen in a long time. She dropped her toys and began crawling to him with a ridiculous, determined fervor. When she got to him, she grabbed his leg and used it to support herself as she stood up. She loves him. She knows that no matter what, he will always love her. She doesn't know very much, but what she does know is that he is stable, and that if she grabs onto his leg, she'll be able to stand. In her head, he is all she needs to be safe and loved and secure. And a day will come when she looks at him and doesn't see him the same way. But for now, she sees him the way God wants us to see Him.
So yeah, I cried in public today. It wasn't a shining moment for me. But that's usually how God usually works with me.
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