Casting Crowns “Stained Glass Masquerade”
I’ll never forget that fateful night in 3rd grade. I discovered the truth. It was late fall and the chill in the air seemed to make its way through my bedroom window and into my heart. I came home from school and asked my mom about Santa. It was then that the house of cards fell.
The letter Santa wrote back to me… an elaborate arrangement my parents had once made to keep me out of the house (including a trip to see Santa at the library) while mom finished putting the presents under the tree… One after another I pondered the lies in my mind with anger and distrust.
No Santa, so that means no Tooth Fairy and no Easter Bunny. What else shouldn’t I believe in?
After holding me and attempting to comfort me my mom finally told me that it would help me to think about something else. So I finally came downstairs and watched a sitcom. (Remember Tony Danza‘s “Who’s the Boss?“!!) Mom was right, I laughed and ate popcorn.
But I couldn’t shake the question, “So, is Jesus for real?”
We went to church, read Bible stories and prayed because our faith was something that we valued. I had prayed the “Sinner’s Prayer” as a five-year-old and desired to please Jesus with my life. I learned what behaviors were most frowned upon- cussing, divorce, and disrespecting your parents. The older I got, the longer I realized the list was. I tried as hard as I could to be good enough, to answer the questions correctly in Sunday school. I kept my grades up and I spoke openly against abortion, pre-marital sex and underage drinking.
It wasn’t until well into adulthood I discovered the shocking truth about Christians– we sin just like the world. Just as the truth that Santa was a fake should have been obvious to me as a nine-year-old, the “perfect” Christian facade had all but escaped me. The PTL scandal, people who left our church because of divorce, a respected pastor who left the ministry because of alcoholism… I was convinced they were all exceptions to the rule. I had gone to church my whole life and knew how a Christian was supposed to live. In my mind, if they had all just tried harder they wouldn’t have fallen into sin.
I honestly had never known that sin was an option for me.
We had good conversations at the dinner table as a family and talked about people who fell into affairs or got into drugs. We’d get upset about the country’s moral decline and feel sorry for the broken families. We’d read the Bible story of Joseph and praise him for fleeing a woman who wanted to take advantage of him. Overall I had a sense that if you were a Christian, an active follower of Jesus, then you would always overcome visible sin. In my own mind I was keeping all the rules of a good Christian life, without a whole lot of prayer or time in the Bible. So what was wrong with these pastors and evangelists who did spend all that time studying?
My world came crashing down as I learned that someone close to me was being sexually abused and at about the same time I learned my husband was struggling with pornography. My world was rocked, strangely in a similar way to when I was that heartbroken third grader. I yelled, out loud and in my journal, “I have been good, God, I have done all these things for You and I deserve better! You didn’t keep your end of the bargain!”
I don’t think it’s a stretch to say that there were times when I hated God.
My worldview had been very black and white, a worldview parents have ingrained in their children for generations. “Do something good, get a reward. Do something bad and get punished.” There was also no room in my heart for Christians to blatantly sin, and for me to respond with compassion. I had always been taught not to hang out with bad influences, which in a way is very good advice. But that also makes for a very small circle of friends, or at least just a circle of people who I thought I could “help.”
And what if the scared sinner is me?
Enter “Sinners Anonymous.” Hi, my name is Brittney. Among other things I struggle with bitterness, anxiety, pride, prayerlessness, and a fear that I’ll never be or look good enough. I don’t have an illness, an addiction, mistakes or hang-ups: I have sins, real and raw. I also know that habitual sins are just as prevalent among Christians as they are among non-Christians. Instead of being shocked and pointing fingers I’m more and more convinced that we should help people through their issues because we’ve been there, not because we are better. My husband has experienced years of freedom and has himself been a mentor for men struggling with sexual sins.
I am so glad that I now understand Christians are real people, but I never learned that from going to church or growing up in a Christian home. It happened when I came to grips with my pride about my personal “goodness” being as ugly a sin to God as mass murder. How many people stay away from our churches because they don’t think they are “good enough?” And how many people inside the church (like I was) assume that they just need to keep working harder to be “good” like the people sitting beside me in the church pew.
Santa brings the world toys in one night. Christians are “mostly” sinless. One by one I find myself chipping through the lies I’ve believed and I’m beginning to discover what it means to be “real.”