From the Pulpit to the Grave and Back

Why does other people’s ignorance bother me so much? Whether it’s race, gender, poverty or generational differences. It has the ability to get under my skin and set my soul on fire like nothing else.

 

I’ve trudged along for so long under the weight of my own self-righteousness in its many forms. I’m smarter than you, funnier than you, and I would never succumb to the depths you’ve seen. I come from spiritually superior stock, I’ve stood behind the pulpit and addressed the filthy masses.

 

It was heavy though, the weight of all that truth. Perfection was only attainable in the rationalizations I twisted around in my own mind and spewed out with a pointed finger. But when I was no longer able to do that I lost my height, my stature, my position on top of the religious food chain. I began to see the depths I once only spoke of.

 

Strange thing about the darkness though, it wasn’t as scary as I thought it was. It wasn’t as dark as I envisioned. There were tons of people there; people who had come from places like me, people who had been born into it, people who had chosen it. It was strange how equally broken we all were.

 

It was there I learned to love from a place of humility and kindness. It was there I learned compassion and released myself into a place of grace. I heard all the words I had spoken from on high – empty, hallow words – come to life in a way  that changed me somewhere deep inside. It was embarrassing to realize what my words actually meant in light of how I was living. And I could see all the sudden how harsh they seemed to those I was delivering them to.

 

This painfully amazing place, I realize, has not been experienced by everyone. And so when I encounter those who remind me of the person I used to be, it’s difficult not to react. My knee jerk reaction of anger comes billowing up and I want to tell them all I’ve seen and show them how wrong they are. Just as I’m about to unleash the storm brewing inside, I see a mirrored reflection of myself in their eyes and realize it’s all me. I’m still angry at myself for who I was and who I couldn’t be.

 

It is in these moments I have to journey back to that place and remember how equally broken we all are, even those who might not know it yet. It’s in this place that I pause, breathe in deep the grace I’ve come to know so well and exhale in surrender, opening my fists and letting go.

 

Here's to the journey, my friends.