the haberkerns

Posted on Friday December 23rd 2011 at 09:38am.

I find myself being really self-righteous as of late, and I want to take off that attitude like armor. Toss its suffocating suit aside and be light and free. Judge not lest you be judged according to the same measure, Jesus said. He spoke these words to really law abiding Jews. He was talking to the religious folk, people like me. My stupid, totally unnecessary self-righteousness isn’t aimed toward people who don’t identify with the name of Christ, though. It’s unabashedly charged at people just like me. Christians just like me. Sometimes I snub my nose at big churches (see my previous post) when everyone inside is trying to find their way, just like me. I quibble over the words of an author, accusing him of making disciples of himself and promoting his own agenda when he, like me, is just trying to understand how to live and write and piece together a philosophy.  I wave my nose over quite a few things throughout the week, mostly without even realizing it. What I am realizing, though, is that while it’s good to filter everything through a discerning eye, it’s not my job to critique and keep score. As I type, I see this image from my favorite Pixar film, Wall-E. Do you remember when Wall-E, as a stowaway on the Axiom spaceship, is followed by another robot attempting to clean up Wall-E’s tracks? Each bit of rubbish that smudges the glossy white floor is immediately identified and swept, the second robot growing increasingly exasperated at the mess. Very often, I am that scrupulous minion, measuring and tallying the church’s missteps. Being self-righteous is exhausting, and this is where I quit. My friend Erin recently took me to the High Museum for their current exhibit, Picasso to Warhol. As we perused the paintings, mobiles, and other modern masterpieces, she said something incredibly profound. I wish I could remember her exact words, but the overall picture stuck with me. She said that she frequently gets into a mental (or spiritual, rather) state of despair. Her attitude towards her fellow Christians mimics mine. What a mess we’ve made, the church, she thinks. And then it struck her: Do you really think I haven’t planned for this? The God-voice inside her said. Don’t you know I’ve taken you—all of you—into account? I’ve got it, thank you. Letting go is hard. I want to stick my fingers in the mess. I want to lick my thumb and run it over this bushy eyebrow of a world and smooth it out. And the thing is, even after I drop my self-righteous weapon and put my hands in the air, I truly believe I can still help fix things. But in order to be an agent of change, I must flip my life upside down. I must toss aside my plans, my sour face, and my upturned nose and learn how to love. I must learn to let life be messy.
I find myself being really self-righteous as of late, and I want to take off that attitude like armor. Toss its suffocating suit aside and be light and free. Judge not lest you be judged according to the same measure, Jesus said. He spoke these words to really law abiding Jews. He was talking to the religious folk, people like me. My stupid, totally unnecessary self-righteousness isn’t aimed toward people who don’t identify with the name of Christ, though. It’s unabashedly charged at people just like me. Christians just like me. Sometimes I snub my nose at big churches (see my previous post) when everyone inside is trying to find their way, just like me. I quibble over the words of an author, accusing him of making disciples of himself and promoting his own agenda when he, like me, is just trying to understand how to live and write and piece together a philosophy.  I wave my nose over quite a few things throughout the week, mostly without even realizing it. What I am realizing, though, is that while it’s good to filter everything through a discerning eye, it’s not my job to critique and keep score. As I type, I see this image from my favorite Pixar film, Wall-E. Do you remember when Wall-E, as a stowaway on the Axiom spaceship, is followed by another robot attempting to clean up Wall-E’s tracks? Each bit of rubbish that smudges the glossy white floor is immediately identified and swept, the second robot growing increasingly exasperated at the mess. Very often, I am that scrupulous minion, measuring and tallying the church’s missteps. Being self-righteous is exhausting, and this is where I quit. My friend Erin recently took me to the High Museum for their current exhibit, Picasso to Warhol. As we perused the paintings, mobiles, and other modern masterpieces, she said something incredibly profound. I wish I could remember her exact words, but the overall picture stuck with me. She said that she frequently gets into a mental (or spiritual, rather) state of despair. Her attitude towards her fellow Christians mimics mine. What a mess we’ve made, the church, she thinks. And then it struck her: Do you really think I haven’t planned for this? The God-voice inside her said. Don’t you know I’ve taken you—all of you—into account? I’ve got it, thank you. Letting go is hard. I want to stick my fingers in the mess. I want to lick my thumb and run it over this bushy eyebrow of a world and smooth it out. And the thing is, even after I drop my self-righteous weapon and put my hands in the air, I truly believe I can still help fix things. But in order to be an agent of change, I must flip my life upside down. I must toss aside my plans, my sour face, and my upturned nose and learn how to love. I must learn to let life be messy.

I find myself being really self-righteous as of late, and I want to take off that attitude like armor. Toss its suffocating suit aside and be light and free. Judge not lest you be judged according to the same measure, Jesus said. He spoke these words to really law abiding Jews. He was talking to the religious folk, people like me. My stupid, totally unnecessary self-righteousness isn’t aimed toward people who don’t identify with the name of Christ, though. It’s unabashedly charged at people just like me. Christians just like me. Sometimes I snub my nose at big churches (see my previous post) when everyone inside is trying to find their way, just like me. I quibble over the words of an author, accusing him of making disciples of himself and promoting his own agenda when he, like me, is just trying to understand how to live and write and piece together a philosophy.  I wave my nose over quite a few things throughout the week, mostly without even realizing it. What I am realizing, though, is that while it’s good to filter everything through a discerning eye, it’s not my job to critique and keep score.

As I type, I see this image from my favorite Pixar film, Wall-E. Do you remember when Wall-E, as a stowaway on the Axiom spaceship, is followed by another robot attempting to clean up Wall-E’s tracks? Each bit of rubbish that smudges the glossy white floor is immediately identified and swept, the second robot growing increasingly exasperated at the mess. Very often, I am that scrupulous minion, measuring and tallying the church’s missteps. Being self-righteous is exhausting, and this is where I quit.

My friend Erin recently took me to the High Museum for their current exhibit, Picasso to Warhol. As we perused the paintings, mobiles, and other modern masterpieces, she said something incredibly profound. I wish I could remember her exact words, but the overall picture stuck with me. She said that she frequently gets into a mental (or spiritual, rather) state of despair. Her attitude towards her fellow Christians mimics mine. What a mess we’ve made, the church, she thinks. And then it struck her: Do you really think I haven’t planned for this? The God-voice inside her said. Don’t you know I’ve taken you—all of you—into account? I’ve got it, thank you.

Letting go is hard. I want to stick my fingers in the mess. I want to lick my thumb and run it over this bushy eyebrow of a world and smooth it out. And the thing is, even after I drop my self-righteous weapon and put my hands in the air, I truly believe I can still help fix things. But in order to be an agent of change, I must flip my life upside down. I must toss aside my plans, my sour face, and my upturned nose and learn how to love. I must learn to let life be messy.

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