Sick Pilgrim
That’s what I was told after I proudly mentioned to my neighbor, a white haired and thoroughly religious grandmother-type, to check out the blog I sometimes wrote for, Sick Pilgrim. A couple of days later, she got back to me with that assessment. And she didn’t mean it as an insult, just a blunt and honest statement from a very kind lady who respects and looks up to me very much. So when she said I didn’t sound very Christian in my writing, she only meant to help me improve my writing – and make it more suitable to the majority of Christian readership.
Apologies to Mrs. Betty, but the knowledge that my voice is atypical of most Christian writers doesn’t rush me to change my voice; it encourages me. I wear not-sounding-very-Christian as a badge of honor.
“Slain in the spirit”… “lay on hands”… “my toddler has a heart for missions”… the Bible as a “sword” or just “The Word”… “loving on *enter unfortunate person/people*”… ‘anointed’”… “calling you out in love”… “Let’s unpack this”… and especially among my Protestant friends, “saved” and “sovereignty.”
And inarguably the worst Christian-ese quip – “Open the eyes of my heart, Lord.”
When among the like-minded, we Christians tend to revert to our own made-up language. And I’m especially guilty of it – describing my early days of making my faith the obvious center of my life can so easily be described as being “on fire for God.” It just comes naturally.
But Christians didn’t always revert to their own languages. Pentecost, the feast we celebrate this weekend, reminds us of the birthday of the Church, wherein the followers of Jesus spoke so that all gathered could understand their words despite their own language, as the story goes.
In under 2000 years, Christians have switched from being divinely inclusive to ridiculously exclusive with their language. “The Lord laid it on my heart.” “I feel called to *any action*.” And, the most evil and disgusting “hashtag blessed.” Who, beyond our own echo chambers, talks like that?
I take from this year’s remembrance of Pentecost a challenge–not a historical story I refamiliarize myself with annually. Connecting with others outside of my own echo chamber may mean sounding different from the echoes inside of it. And it’s not about sounding like others so that they’ll eventually agree with me. It’s about connecting with others, because others–even those with opposite thoughts and beliefs–matter.
Maybe that’s what loving our neighbor looks like.
Does that sound Christian enough for you?
God, I hope not.
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