i hate me. pretending and messy spirituality

How much of our lives are spent pretending?  What a shame. Indeed, what a sham! What showy, pretentious propaganda we live with on a daily basis, our own personal bodies incessantly silhouetted behind a smoke screen of illusion and misapprehension.  Of course pretending doesn’t have to be a bad thing, for I spent some of the most joyous years of my short lived life in the land of imagination and wonder.  My question is this: where and when did I go wrong? When did all of a sudden my childish pretending become flawed and unhealthy, harmful, and detrimental to those around me. When was the day where all creative imagination faded and replaced its pure head with the ugliness of artificial image, made-up identity and a counterfeit societal phenomenon?  

 I find myself even today, a 21 year old young adult, with not much experience or knowledge pretending to look like he’s got something going for him.  Maybe, just maybe, if I believe it, they’ll believe it, and if they believe it, it will help me to believe I actually DO have it all together.  Well, if all honestly was forthcoming, and I was heart-wrenching enough to share with you, I’d say the only thing I got going for me….  But that’s another story.   

Forget about ‘society’ or ‘culture’ for a second. Who cares about its pressure, power, and authoritative influence!  Why are we always blaming the outside realm for happenings within our inside spiritual, mental, and emotional existence? I guess to a point it’s all connected because we were the only beings on the earth to be blessed enough with both a spiritual and physical realm.  I’m just tired of the unrealistic and impractical reasons of man: ‘why don’t you stop and smell the roses’ they say!  Hah. Useless; how can I stop to smell the roses when the inward stench of death and decay follows me wherever I go, a shrewd walking corpse holding my sick and sorry soul. Not a fun image, eh? The problem however isn’t the stench itself…it is the horrid smell our personal struggles put forth, and how in our own complacentcy and blindness, we never even smell it at all. It’s like the life-long homeless man on the street: when we pass by him we gag at the smell of his disgusting and dirty worn out shirt and piss-stained sweatpants, but to him do you think he smells what you smell? Of course not. He’s used to his own wretchedness and no longer smells the most revolting of smells.

 Unfortunately, in many religious circles, and in my own pertinacious ‘unshakeable’ faith, what seems to be on the outside an apparent ‘Christ follower’ by name, there exists an unwritten, unspoken rule: Pretend. Act like God is in control when you don’t believe he is. Give the impression everything is okay in your life when it’s not. Pretend you believe when you doubt; hide your imperfections; maintain the image of a perfect lifestyle, a perfect identity, someone who has it all held together.  And whatever you do, don’t admit that you sin. Sure, practically, pretending is efficient, uncomplicated, and quick. Answering “Fine” to the question “How are you doing?” is much easier and quicker than saying “Not very well, thank you; my back is bothering me, my teenage children are disappointing me, I’m unhappy with my body, my husband never speaks to me, and I’m wondering if Christianity is true- if God really exists.”

Essentially, pretending perpetuates the illusion of relationships by connecting us on the basis of who we aren’t. People who pretend have pretend relationships. It pains me to even think of the possibility of myself being a man of pretend relationships.  But being real is a synonym for messy spirituality, because when we are real, our messiness is there for everyone to see.  Some people would consider the use of words like messy spirituality rude and audacious. “How dare you suggest that people are messy? What are you proposing? Are you suggesting that sin is okay, that we should condone less than a 100 percent effort to serve God? You are too negative. Its not helpful to emphasize our flaws.”

But the truth is, we are a mess. Im a mess. I’m having a hell of a time right now and I don’t know how I’m going to get out of this grave I’ve dug for myself. It’s true: None of us are who we appear to be- and you know what? That’s what scares me the most. We all have secrets. We all have issues. We all struggle from time to time. And the idea of having to share some issues now with someone whom I will be living with, I know for a fact will be the most hated yet freeing thing ever to happen to me.  No one is perfect. Not one. I guess it comes down to this: When you and I stop pretending, we expose the pretending of everyone else. The bubble of the perfect Christian life is burst, and we all must face the reality of our brokenness.

And that my friend….takes guts.