Tag Archives: Life

An Update….

I recently read over a page draft for something I once called “Going a Little Deeper”. These were articles I’d written that, at the time, explained in more detail my thoughts and beliefs on such heady content as Hell, Salvation, Church, Doubt, and even scriptural verses like John 14:6.
Man, I was an arrogant little bastard! (Full disclosure: I still can be!)
I set out to look over these “Going a Little Deeper” posts to try and update how I viewed some of these admittedly hot button topics, but, I couldn’t. Not that I still cling to these values that I once held so dear and so pridefully. Not that I don’t. It’s just that, along the way, especially lately, I’ve learned quite a few more truths about myself than I have in Truth of any grand spiritual or scriptural kind.
In fact, one of the things I’ve come to learn is this: The deeper my faith becomes, the less I seem to know. Or maybe, more accurately, the less I feel certain of.
I heard an interesting Atheistic summarization of the Christian argument the other day: “So, I either believe in the God of the Bible, and in Jesus, or I’m going to burn in Hell?” they said. “Some choice.”
Exactly! Some choice!
We Christians have boiled down our faith to a simple issue of certainty—you’re either in or you’re out. And we feel comfortable having that be our main, and often only, evangelical calling card. In fact, that’s all Christianity has become to the too-vast majority of us: A get out of Hell free card.
We feel okay with that of course because we’re in!
And Jesus? We’ve reduced Him to playing the bit part of door man, or maybe “gate” or “good shepherd” to keep it biblical. If only we could read a few verses later into that metaphorical story (John 10 if you’re interested) when Jesus also says, “I have other sheep that are not of this sheep pen. I must bring them also. They too will listen to my voice, and there shall be one flock and one shepherd.”
Who are these “other sheep”? And, what will “my voice” sound like…to them?
That’s another thing I’ve come to learn: Faith is messy.
Faith is not tidy. Faith is anything but certain. “Faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see.” And neither confidence nor assurance equate to certainty.
I’m currently reading over quite a few of these posts that I’ve written over the past several years, some posted, some not. So far, many of these I’ve decided to leave up—as much for myself as for anyone else. These 400+ posts are an ongoing chronicle of my faith journey; signposts and off-ramps and potholes and switchbacks that I’ve encountered along the way. It’s been a great journey. It’s been an ugly journey. But, it’s been my journey.
And, surprise, surprise, I’m not the same man, husband, father, Christ-follower, that I was six months ago, let alone six years. Even more, I have no idea who/where I’ll be six months or six years from now!
One last thing I’ve come to learn: In whatever I write, I’ll likely contradict myself at some point. And that’s okay. I’m in good company. So does the Bible—and it’s inerrant!

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God help me, I’ve missed social media

Okay, I’ll admit it; I’ve missed social media. Yeah, yeah, yeah, there’s a lot NOT to miss about Facebook, Twitter, blogging, et.al. But one of the things I’ve missed about it is the fodder of ideas it gives me to write about.

Sure, there’s a lot NOT to write about, too. There’s topics that no one wants to engage in because we’re all too busy hoisting the flags of our own opinions. But I’ve missed the inspiration that social media once gave me to examine myself, my beliefs, my truths, and where it is I think those truths and beliefs fit into a world that so desperately needs voices of reason and hope.

One of the things that bugged me most last week, prompting my last post, was a severe case of the “Coulda, Woulda , Shoulda’s”. I let myself get bogged down with all the crap I hadn’t been getting done; being a more committed writer, a more engaged father/husband, a better contributor toward the day-to-day running’s of the house, etc. The weight of the world had settled firmly on my shoulders and I let myself become emotionally and mentally buried. And, yes, I see the irony in admitting this in a post saying I’ve missed social media, but still, I’m just sayin’…

I’ve noticed lately, without the interaction of social media, the artistic muse seems to have flown off to the furthest reaches of my creative imagination. Maybe it’s not the sole reason for my creativity drying up, but it’s certainly played its part. After all, there’s no shortage of prime topics to choose from among the entire world’s opinions on everything from politics to religion to cute kittens to what constitutes “good” music.

I’m also painfully aware that it’s been over eight months since my last book, the non-fiction These Threads of Faith, and a year and a half since The Privilege of Sin. (Admittedly, Kaitlynn just hasn’t wanted to do anything interesting lately, and The Drifter, Nick, just wants to wander back into the forests of Montana and get lost.)

I think, as humans, we are beings born for relationship. Even if that relationship sometimes takes the form of tweets, Snapchats, instant messages, and “likes”. Like anything else, the lure of social media can be abused, but it’s taken its place firmly in our modern-day culture and we’d be better for taking advantage of the positives available through it while remaining mindful of the negatives, the downers, the addictive tendencies, and all that.

So, over the past several weeks, I’ve been making small inroads back onto Facebook (Kent Roberts, Author), I’ve been lurking more and more on Twitter (@AuthorKentR). But, I’ve got to admit, I still don’t see the point of Instagram (thespiritualdrifter).

Like money, potato chips, love and fine whiskey, there is nothing inherently wrong with social media. But, like all of those things and so much more, it can easily be abused by us humans–a species hungry for attention, approval, and affirmation.

And writers are the worst for being clingy and needy like that.

Nonetheless, and BTW…I’ve missed you guys!

Hi, My Name’s Kent and I’m a Snowflake….

snowflakeIn the past, I’ve been accused of this thing called “hypergrace”; of going overboard in such hot button areas as “acceptance” and “inclusion”. It was an accusation I backpedaled from for longer than I care to admit.

But now?
Now I gladly welcome the accusation.
Yes, I practice hypergrace. I suppose these days you’d call me a “snowflake”.

If I’m repeating myself, bear with me…I take this whole “love thy neighbor” thing pretty seriously, as if it were a scriptural truth or something.  Funny how that works.

I posted the above meme on my FB Author page a while ago, and I’ve seen it posted among several others.  I’ve also read some of the comments following these postings.

I’ve read the accusations of “not doing what’s best for our country”, and of “being selfish.”

And yet, since when did compassion become selfish?
When did courage or human rights become something other than the best for our country? Continue reading Hi, My Name’s Kent and I’m a Snowflake….

On “luuuv” and the Power of Words

I suppose, after writing books and blogs and other such things for over five years now, it shouldn’t surprise me the power of words.

But it does.

It shouldn’t surprise me, with “fake news”, alternative facts, and both the love and vitriol spread wide across social media, the influence—intentional and not—that our words can have.

But it does.

It shouldn’t surprise anyone that this was one of the main reasons I hesitated to say anything amongst all the storm and rage of this past political and politically religious season. First, because I wasn’t sure what to say, And second, I wasn’t sure, even if I did speak up, how it would be received. And yes, it got to the point where I had written my “last” Spiritual Drift post (which I’ve obviously reconsidered), and closed up shop on my personal Facebook page.

It was only when I did those things, closing the door on the blog, pulling the plug on social media, that I found my voice, and more importantly, found the resolve, to say something, to say anything.

Both the voice and resolve came from this…

Hypocrisy.

Not “their” hypocrisy, mine, as I said in “A Christian Without a Religion”:

It’s not them, it’s me.  My own hypocrisy is in continuing to sit there. Numb. Dumb. Mute. Confused and angered. Unable or unwilling (fearful actually) to speak out.  Because apparently I’m the weird one.

The hypocrisy I felt was in my silent assent to all that was going on around me. I may not have been agreeing with what was happening, what was being said, what was being done, who it was being done to, and why, but in my silence it gave the appearance that I was.

I was agreeing.

I was complicit.

I was approving, conforming, like-minded.

This wasn’t right. It didn’t feel right. It wasn’t true.

And once again I was struck by the power of words. And the hidden power of not saying them. The realization shouldn’t have surprised me.

But it did.

So I’m beginning to speak out.

First though, I wanted to thank everyone who commented or private messaged me with their words of encouragement. That meant, and continues to mean, a lot.

Secondly, I want to say that I am not leaving the church or my faith as some were fearful I might have decided.

I’m not.

Yes, I’m done with “religion”. But this is one of the most freeing decisions anyone of faith can ultimately make. At least in my mind.
I’m not following a pastor.
I’m not following a church.
I’m not following a doctrine.
I’ve chosen to follow the Way of a brown-skinned Middle Eastern refugee.

And let me clarify something else. If the Spirit does move me to leave a particular church, or pastor, or doctrine, it is not, nor will it ever be, out of anger, frustration, or selfish motives (“I’m not getting fed”, “I don’t like the music/message/coffee creamer/carpet color.”)

I also won’t stand to be accused of “church hopping”, as I have heard time and time again from the pulpit.

Over the last twenty years, my wife and I have attended three different churches; each move facilitated by the prompting of the Holy Spirit. Literally, it was time to move on, and God made that abundantly clear. And, if that time comes again, I will listen and obey.

Hear me on this: I love the people of my life/home group. I have made some cherished friendships within the church.

And yet these were also factors that weighed heavily on why I was fearful to speak out. Why I sat in my hypocrisy for so long.

I didn’t want to rock the boat.

It is only recently that I figured out that I am not, in fact, rocking the boat. I’m stepping out onto the water; mindful of the waves, mindful of the storm, but keeping my eyes affixed on the brown-skinned Middle Eastern refugee in whom I’ve placed my trust.

It reminds me of the words of Frederick Buechner:

To do for yourself the best that you have it in you to do—to grit your teeth and clench your fists in order to survive the world at its harshest and worst—is, by that very act, to be unable to let something be done for you and in you that is more wonderful still. The trouble with steeling yourself against the harshness of reality is that the same steel that secures your life against being destroyed secures your life also against being opened up and transformed.  –From “The Sacred Journey”

And those of John Eldredge:

The reason we fear to step out is because we know that it might not go well. We have a history of wounds screaming at us to play it safe. We feel so deeply that if it doesn’t go well, if we are not received well, the reaction becomes the verdict on our lives, on our very beings, on our hearts. We fear that our deepest doubts about ourselves will be confirmed. Again. That we will hear yet again the message of our wounds, the piercing negative answers to our Questions. That is why we can only risk stepping out when we are resting in the love of God. –From “Captivating” by John and Stasi Eldredge (emphasis mine).

That is why it’s been hard to sit quietly in church as a pastor mocks those who feel the gospel is “all about luuuuv, luuuuv, luuuv” with hands placed gingerly on swaying hips as scorn lines his face.

Umm, he’s talking about me.
Because, umm, it is all about love.

God is love. (1John 4:8)
God is in Christ. (John 17:23)
And Christ is in me. (Col 1:27, 2Cor 13:5, Gal 2:20, to name but a few)

Therefore, if I am in Christ and He is in me and God is in Him, I am love.

I am resting in that. Almost like it’s a peace that passes understanding.

You see, a one-way ticket to heaven is the by-product of why I believe, not the sole reason. My faith is manifest in how I choose to live my life here and now. Eternity doesn’t begin “some fine day, when this life is o’er”. It has already begun. It has always been.

I am an eternal being.
I am in an eternal being, and He is in me.
I am luuuv!  Proudly!