Sunday Studies Archive
Sunday Studies is a continually evolving category. A space for me to discuss my thoughts on faith and Christianity, it is unlikely to see updates as often as all other categories.
Learning to endure the frustrations of the seemingly endless conflicts that surround me.
“I want to stop determining my value based on what others think of me.”
This is the goal I gave my therapist during our first session last November. I wanted to reach a point where I felt free to speak my mind without being afraid of rejection. To find satisfaction in my videos, podcast, and writings even if no one watched, listened, or read them. To no longer be afraid of sharing my faith, to fear that I’d be rejected wholly for believing in the Christian God.
I’d be lying if I claimed to have succeeded in this goal. I’ve certainly made improvement, finding a satisfaction as a relative nobody on YouTube and the world of social media. I’ve become content with my day job, enjoying it as time away from my hobbies so that I could enjoy working on them all the more as a form of relaxation and relief of stress. I do not wish to be popular on the Internet. Nevertheless, I clearly wish to communicate.
I have a passion for many things, with video games, film, and anime being at the top. Like all human beings, I yearn to find a community with which I can share these thoughts. Unfortunately, by being a creator on YouTube and other such media, I feel an inclination towards other creators, craving to reach out or even be noticed. I desire not just validation of their praise, but a connection to be a part of what I perceive as a community.
Then I sign onto social media, and I am equal parts frustrated, frightened, and exhausted.
I feel like my devotion as a Christian and my identity as a Gamer has become an internal war.
The Christian-American Contradiction was perhaps the easiest time I ever had expressing my religious or political views. However, I also imagined that it would be the least challenged by my imagined readership. Or, to be more precise, the nonexistent readership I’m worried about discovering my website.
Perusing the number of content creators and fellow gamers I follow on Twitter, I see a lot of people of a more liberal, non-Christian persuasion. In College I was constantly being bludgeoned with jokes about how stupid us Christians are. I held my hands out defensively, promising that I wasn’t like those hypocritical Christians. No, really, I was different! So to sit down and write a piece critiquing the most common perception of conservative-Christian bore with it no challenge. The only people I was bound to disappoint were the people at my Church, and I was used to having different opinions from them.
It didn’t give me the courage to speak more freely about my faith, however. I instead continue to be frightened of offending someone with my beliefs. I fear that merely identifying as a Christian is enough to push others away. So I have strived to focus on writing about games and media. To speak positively about the worldly things I love.
But it has not lasted. I feel the two sides of myself twisting like a soaked towel, constricting until all of my delusions and distractions are wrung free from me. I am left with nothing but this conflict between my two identities. I am a gamer, yes, but I am also a Christian. One of these identities should come before the other, and yet frequently it is the world that wins.
I need to reconcile my two selves so that I might move forward with confidence and fearlessness.
Are Patriotic Christians confusing their allegiances? Or do they simply not see how their views compromise their duties as both Christians and Americans?
Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof;
It may have been seven or eight years ago when I finally realized how strange it was to be singing America the Beautiful during a Church service. I can only imagine it was a byproduct of Post-WWII America that Patriotism and Faith became intertwined, fueling false notions of each founding father being a Christian and forging this nation with the intent of being God’s Country.
There are certainly Christian founding fathers, and a multitude of other historical figures that certainly believed in Christ the sacrificial son of God. However, it is very clear that the founding fathers never intended America to be a theocracy. Before even the freedom of speech or the press are guaranteed, the First Amendment ensures its citizens that never shall the government establish an official religion, nor should any religion be banned.
Yet the Patriotic Church-Goers have tongues tied with accusations of their country being invaded by sinful filth, wrecking America’s good Christian nature. While the history books are already filled with the sinful realities of America’s bloody, prejudiced history, I will not be dwelling on such lessons of fact. I merely wish to focus on the tragedy that these Patriots hail allegiance to a government that demanded they compromise from day one.
The Sunday Studies column returns not with a renewed sense of purpose or direction, but a revelation of all-encompassing fear of expression.
At the start of the summer I wrote part one and part two of what was meant to be a three-part series. I’ve read and enjoy the current draft for the final part, but I’m not entirely certain it conveys the lessons I’ve learned in the months following.
This series became an effort to explain my philosophy, but throughout I could not help but feel the pressure to defend myself. What is there to defend? Why am I so insistent that this conflict exists between believers and non? In re-reading my first essay I cringed as I carelessly referred to non-Christians as “sinners”.
Within a certain context there’s a logic to the term’s use. Those that believe are “cleansed” by the blood of Christ’s sacrifice. God forgives us of our sins so that we might become worthy to bask in his presence. However, just because a believer has forgiveness does not mean they are free of sin. If anything, sin becomes an even greater plague. Since I’ve increased my Biblical studies I’ve struggled more than ever before to be a better person. To be patient with others, to control what angers me, and to give up sinful habits and tendencies that would ultimately lead to negative behaviors and depression.
A continuation of the previous Sunday Studies, I discuss how the Church has poorly prepared its congregation to be challenged by and learn the context of the Bible.
Last time I began the first of several posts regarding the comfort and discomforts of discussing religion with non-Christians. The majority of what I covered in that post revolved around the struggle with Christian Institutions and their often shallow, divisive nature. Not only has the Church encouraged its membership to avoid being a part of the world – counter to Jesus himself – it has only driven some of its deeper thinkers away. It is an irony to me that some of the older gentlemen at my Church refer to me as a “deep thinker”, for the only thing I know is that my ignorance far outweighs my knowledge.
Which leads me to my next point. One of the common themes since this column’s inception has been my fear of seeming ignorant. In some ways this is simply my lack of self-esteem talking. In others, though, I must wonder if it’s a lack of proper Church leadership and teaching.
Speaking with colleagues on the matter, many have expressed a common belief that the Sunday sermon should not be too challenging. If they come to Church and feel bad or guilty after the service, it’s possible they won’t look forward to coming back. If they don’t come back, that’s fewer donations to help keep the Church alive. This is not a claim about Churches being greedy, just an acknowledgment of a very understandable fear: a Church’s livelihood.
I can understand the perspective, but without challenge then you aren’t speaking the word of God. A sermon should challenge but it should not condemn. The pastor should draw from the Bible stories and testimony that cause the audience to ask themselves, on a personal level, how they might be faltering. At the same time we must also be reminded that we, as Christians, are followers of Jesus Christ and not Jesus Christ himself. We are bound to falter. What matters is we try to be better.
I begin a three-part series where I contemplate my anxieties over discussing religion and faith with non-believers.
And Levi made him a great feast in his house, and there was a large company of tax collectors and others reclining at table with them. And the Pharisees and their scribes grumbled at his disciples, saying, “Why do you eat and drink with tax collectors and sinners?†And Jesus answered them, “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick. I have not come to call the righteous but sinners to repentance.â€
A similar encounter occurs again in Luke 15, a chapter I had read this past week. While it would have been more appropriate for me to have quoted that passage, I feel this one illustrates a similar point more succinctly. Christ is dining not with the priests and scribes, but those looked down upon as sinners.
Both confrontations have taken up residence in my mind, occasionally popping out of their bedrooms and imposing upon me their presence. What seems a simple, straight-forward message is soon over-complicated by my own contemplations, and before I know it I’m submerged so deep I can no longer see the light glistening upon the surface.
This has become commonplace as the Bible continues to spark my mind. Ideas that seem fascinating enough to openly ponder suddenly become overwhelming as I scribe letter to document. The natural rebound from my overzealous desire to act, I suppose. Further confirmation that creating a column for such things was none other than a jumping gun.
In my desire to do good I was only causing harm and securing failure.
Let’s talk about some self-imposed pressure, brought on in part by a burst of zealotry.
And behold, a man came up to him, saying, “Teacher, what good deed must I do to have eternal life?†And he said to him, “Why do you ask me about what is good? There is only one who is good. If you would enter life, keep the commandments.†He said to him, “Which ones?†And Jesus said, “You shall not murder, You shall not commit adultery, You shall not steal, You shall not bear false witness, Honor your father and mother, and, You shall love your neighbor as yourself.†The young man said to him, “All these I have kept. What do I still lack?†Jesus said to him, “If you would be perfect, go, sell what you possess and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come, follow me.†When the young man heard this he went away sorrowful, for he had great possessions.
And Jesus said to his disciples, “Truly, I say to you, only with difficulty will a rich person enter the kingdom of heaven. Again I tell you, it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter the kingdom of God.†When the disciples heard this, they were greatly astonished, saying, “Who then can be saved?†But Jesus looked at them and said, “With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible.â€
Over the past few weeks I’ve encountered this story twice: once through my pastor’s Sunday sermon and once through my own personal readings. Between those lines I found a call to action. This same trumpet sounding distracted me from what the lines themselves were saying.
Enjoy this hastily written column resulting from having no idea what I'm doing.
Back in January my Pastor invited me to participate in a book study. I had only attended the Church a few times, and having him not just show up on my doorstep one day but send me a text out of the blue like this… it felt incredibly pushy. Never had I known a Church leader to be so intrusive and seemingly desperate to get someone to come to their services. This sort of behavior was like a step-by-step guide to get me running.
At the moment I read the text, I sighed and thought “there’s no way I’m going to an 8a.m. book study with a bunch of older men I don’t know”. I’m rarely an impulsive person, and when I am I like it to be my decision. If I had a plan to spend a day doing something solo and someone extends an invitation to do something with them, my internal CPU crashes. The pie chart I’ve made of time per activity needs to be redrawn. If I lose one activity, can I make it up later? If I turn them down, will I come off as rude? How do I avoid being rude? Is it more worth it in the long term to just accept the invitation? What am I going to discuss? What do I want to discuss?
So I gave my pastor a non-committal response even though I had already decided to be a no-show.
A new column focusing on something very important to me: my faith and my journey of it.
Uh oh. A column of faith? That can’t be good. Several pages of hot-air proselytizing when all you come for are opinions regarding video games, anime, or film. Guess it’s time to stop following!
Only this isn’t about telling you why I’m right and you’re wrong. I mean, I don’t even know who you are that’s reading this! It’s about finding a way to discuss something important to me. Something important that I’ve continually kept hidden out of fear of judgment. Too much of my life has been spent worrying what others think of me, modifying my behaviors to try and become a person more easily loved.
Some of these adjustments have certainly had benefits. Others have given birth to anxiety, frustration, and even existential crises. I know the manner in which I dissect entertainment is going to have a limited audience, but I still sought to appeal to as broad a group as possible. As such, I began removing bits of myself from my critiques. Effectively, I began to deny myself aspects of what made me who I am, which in turn lied to everyone about who it is they’re reading.