If you really, truly love Jesus, you'll read this... or else! Is it just me, or does everyone else get tons of those annoying religious email forwards in their inboxes? They're sent by well meaning friends, and usually contain some sort of inspiring message, a stern challenge or a cute anecdote to restore your faith in miracles (albeit more often than not an urban myth that's been around the block a few too many times). It's not just the hollow-sounding pious sentiments or the saccharine sweetness that bugs me, however. It's the bit you always get tagged onto the end: If you really love Jesus, forward this to everyone in your address book; of course, if you're busy and can't find time to do this little thing for Jesus, just think about what he went through for you. Or something like that.
The tagline is such an obvious attempt at a guilt-trip, so blatantly manipulative, that I never feel the sting it's supposed to deliver. It's easy to see through. To the trash can it goes.
But I was thinking recently how little difference there is between that kind of manipulation, and the kind of manipulation I regularly used to put up with in church. My whole Christian life was at one time sustained by a regular diet of "challenges" that relied on precisely the same methods of control. I guess I tolerated it because I had never known any other kind of Christianity. Sitting there Sunday evening after Sunday evening to have the pastor lay guilt trip after guilt trip on me was the "normal" Christian life.
The manipulation ran the gamut from, "If you're not ashamed of Jesus, you'll stand up right now in front of all these people," and "Jesus died for you, so the very least you can do is get up for the early morning prayer meeting," to "How many times did you witness to someone this week? If you truly love the Lord and care about the lost, witness to one soul every day this week," and "Come on people, give me an amen! Don't you love Jesus?".
How utterly crass and transparent it all seems in retrospect, but for years I put up with it willingly. It was the only Christianity I knew. You were supposed to feel guilty if you weren't praying enough, or witnessing enough, or going to church enough. We sometimes joked that we felt like performing seals. A pretty accurate assessment, I think. Actually, sitting here thinking back on those years, I am baffled: What kind of dummy was I to let myself be intimidated by that?
Do you put up with that bullshit? Maybe you need to hear someone come along and tell you what you probably suspected deep down all along: That kind of religion belongs with all those email forwards -- in the trash can.
Grace and freedom to you,
Dave
4:19:31 PM
|