"And the Word became flesh, and dwelt among us, and we saw His glory, glory as of the only begotten from the Father, full of grace and truth." (NASB)It was a sermon that, at one point, highlighted the fact that Christians can be fairly untruthful. Not that we go around outright lying to everyone. Rather, we withhold the truth about our spiritual struggles and failures. We try to keep up a facade that says all is blessed and beautiful and we think that is what is required in order to give Jesus good PR. While this act succeeds it can be intimidating to others and when it eventually fails (and it always does) it makes us seem disingenuous at best and hypocritical at worst. In the end, the world sees through us and we are definitely "full of it."
It made me think of my own situation (Yes, I am horribly self-centered. Why do you think I have a blog?). My Multiple Sclerosis has been a fairly invisible disease so far. Since my diagnosis in December of 2005 you would never know that I was sick just by looking at me. Since I could walk fairly normally there was no need for anyone to know about my condition, nor would they think to ask. It was my little secret and I kept it to myself for the most part.
It was not until last Fall when I felt my deteriorating balance and leg strength finally warranted a cane that my cover was blown. At first I was self-concious about the cane. I felt like everyone was staring at me as I walked around with it. I imagined people's thoughts as they wondered what was wrong with me. People at work, with whom I had already shared my condition, were mildly shocked as for them my disease suddenly became real and tangible. Although I didn't like being thought of as weak and vulnerable, the truth was that is what I was becoming.
As I walked around with my new cane, one thing that was inescapable was how differently people treated me. People started holding the door open for me or insisting I go first off of the elevator. Women were almost embarrassed when I opened a door for them. Because the truth of my weakness had been exposed by my cane, people were giving me more grace.
Bringing my cane to Church was also awkward but necessary as crowds of moving people easily throw off my balance. People who would normally pass by with a smile or a nod suddenly stopped with a look of concern, touched my arm and asked me what had happened. This got me wondering, what if all of our hang-ups and struggles came with such obvious outward signs like my cane. Truthfully, everyone at Church should be walking around with a "cane" of some sort. No one is perfectly healthy and we would all know it. No more pretending. No more secrets. Canes do not lie. Something is wrong with me. Something is wrong with you. Tell me what has happened to you.
Oh, the grace that would abound. How the truth would flow. And the Church would finally be full of it.
