6. Code of Conduct

Stepping into the newness of independence freshman year of college, I found security in belonging to another team. I was thankful that I didn’t have to search for a niche to fit into and thankful my coach made a decision to honor my scholarship. Although rattled a little, no pity party was thrown because I knew I was not the only one on earth to experience an injury like this. It was no reason for me to stay on the ground licking my wounds for too long.

Move on, get over it, and keep putting hope in getting better, I told myself.

For a secular school there were a surprising amount of my new teammates who had some history of “church” in their upbringing that they carried to campus with them, as I did. The upperclassman were good leaders. Often times a Bible study was taking place and several of us went to Sunday services together regularly. I became involved in many of the same elements of Christianity that I was so familiar with growing up. The scene of “religion” had not been difficult to mimic. Having these tangibles, created a platform of morality and decent behavior to share in my reports back home and to pat myself on the back with.

The external mantles that I placed God on displayed a good presentation but it’s all that it was- a presentation. Set up to be graded and evaluated by those around me who I appointed my unavoidable critics.

Matthew 23: 25-26 warns…

“Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you clean the outside of your cup and the plate, but inside they are full of greed and self-indulgence. You blind Pharisee! First clean the inside of the cup and the plate, that the outside might be clean.”

I was reading through some old journals of mine and came across one dated in 2016, which must’ve been primarily from my sophomore year of college. Looking through the pages, every line was filled with a verse, an excerpt from a sermon, a prayer request, or some quotes from a Christian speaker that I found on Youtube. I was excellent at taking notes just about every day. I was committed to basically all the right religious things, you would think…

Yet no where, was there a prayer or a plea asking for a desire for God Himself. No where, was there a sincere word of my own heart, mind, or soul to declare my personal love for God Himself or for His people. No where did I submit to saying Jesus, Your will, not mine be done.

Every line was simply filled with religious babble; making the outside of my life seem like it was on a good track, falsely confirming that I knew Jesus, and growing my misconceptions that if I could just keep acquiring the head knowledge, then somehow I would be in right standing with my Maker.

But the only place I found myself was a sea of guilt, wearily treading water, succumbing to ignorance as my heart blackened and hardened by the day.

The Pharisees, these religious people that Jesus rebuked in Matthew, had some serious dedication. They spent years studying to possess all of the head knowledge available at the time, they lived radically committed to keeping laws and commandments, and they assured themself that they would be the first to recognize the Messiah. But when they came face to face with Him, with Jesus Christ Himself, they were none the wiser and they were part of the crowd that shouted out “crucify Him” (Luke 22 and Luke 23).

Like the Pharisee’s, commitment had not been the issue for me either. I am a dedicated person with a drive to get from point A to point B, even if I have to roll up my sleeves and dig in. The problem for me, was that the morale of “self-help” sat on the throne…and I, nor anyone, can not get from point A, death, to point B, life on our own no matter how hard we try.

What I became so blind to, gripping on to dedication, rather than humility is the Truth. The Truth is a Person. (John 14:6). Jesus did not die the humiliating, excruciating, and undeserved death of a criminal for just a 10% increase in tithing, for 10/10 church attendance, to hold the door open for an old lady pat myself on the back and call myself a saint, or even to fill up journals of scripture and head knowledge.

Jesus bore the shame of the cross to credit me the perfect life that He lived, because He is holy, His standards are perfect and I am unable, on my own to love Him and listen to Him. I am unable to save myself from what I rightly deserve, a gavel slamming in a court room where I am found guilty.

Christ became a substitute in the exchange of judgment, for the radical transformation of my soul to be redeemed by the work that only He can do. Jesus sacrificed His time reigning in magnificent glory so that my eternal positional place can be right beside Him in Heaven, adopted into His family, and be crowned daughter of the almighty King. Jesus died for me and for you to cry out, say I believe this counted for me, and to then be reconciled to a relationship with Him.

The “add ons” like church attendance and good behavior, I counted so important were sending me to Hell because they replaced this personal relationship with Jesus Christ. I was lost and still had no idea.

People were placed in my life during my first few years of college in a time of stale understanding, who were sold out to Jesus and serve as incredible examples to me now. At the time I listened when they spoke, appreciated their counter cultural values, and smiled at their stories of how they loved the good Father. I watched as they faced mountains and rejoiced, claiming that God is bigger.

I was invited to a conference in Colorado with a friend, where there were Christian speakers, praise and worship services, and the largest gathering of people I had ever been apart of who shared the same testimony: that they surrendered to Christ and were set free! These people talked about the joy of the Lord, a peace in their soul that surpasses understanding, and a contentment that carried them through some of the most difficult situations. I looked around, deeply struggling with anxiety, emptiness, and desiring freedom but never fully able to grasp it. I remember thinking for the first time that maybe I was a Christian with a defect because my story did not sound the same at all.

I had too much of the world in me and too much misunderstanding of the Bible and of God to realize that I could have the same testimony of ultimate freedom. I started thinking that there may not be a place for me anywhere…I didn’t quite fit in with the “American Dream” that society deems as the peak of life, but I certainly didn’t feel like I fit in with the church crowd around me at the conference.

Feeling like an outsider looking in, I bristled, put up walls of defense and unknowingly plunged myself further into the void within me. Associating with the type of people I met in Colorado surfaced loneliness and shame and I thought it wiser to modify the calibration of Christianity found within my friendships, relationships, and just in general.

Shame bit down and punctured any sense of value in keeping the mantles I placed God on maintained, dusted and pristine. The gears of self sufficiency to create a sense of worth in myself and to find a place of belonging kicked into overdrive. I had not been shaken enough to be convinced that I needed anything more than my leading motto, I’ve got this; but my boat was about to get rocked.

God would mercifully reduce me to the place where my lofty indignation and misconceptions would crash onto the shores of grace, and my pride would eventually run out of room to run it’s course.