By Angelina Burkholder | Echo
Close your eyes. Remember the last time you heard a prayer, not just any prayer, but a beautiful prayer. Now open your eyes. Chances are, that prayer was rehearsed.
For example, someone approaches the podium during chapel, asks for bowed heads and offers up a heartfelt prayer. Amazement ensues at how appropriately the prayer fits in with the topic of the day and the direction of the service. But when we look up, we see the person holding a piece of paper containing a prayer scripted to sound beautiful to our ears. It's time to check our motives-our prayers are not meant to tickle our ears but rather to glorify the heart of our Savior.
Since when is it okay for our relationship with Jesus to be rehearsed? Maybe we only rehearse when we know others are listening in. We strive to sound intellectual, wise and politically correct in the way we pray and talk. We want to appear like a dedicated Christian when we're being watched.
We approach the pulpit to say a prayer over a congregation with a piece of paper. We use words that sound pretty and righteous. We spend ridiculous amounts of time crafting a minute-long prayer so our peers, colleagues and professors will shake their heads in amazement at what a Christian heart we have. We have reached an age where being vulnerable in our faith with each other is no longer the "cool" option. We just want that sparkling Taylor reputation.
But scripted words are not always representative of what is really inside our hearts. We hide our raw authenticity, trading in our true feelings for a polished version that glitters when people look and listen. We lock away our trials, struggles and issues, denying their existence and importance.
It's like our sidewalk friendships. We see someone we know and the typical Taylor acquaintance conversation follows. We say hi, we ask how the other person is doing and we always respond with "Good!" That's it. A day in messy college-student life is boiled down to one word every day-good.
Stop lying. Stop rehearsing.
What kind of community could we build if we took a step back from our pretenses and our perfectly put together lives for a single moment of vulnerability? Perhaps being so immersed in a "Christian" community is our downfall. Everyone else looks like they have their ducks in a row. We feel pressured to do the same. So we pretend for the sake of fitting in, but behind those perfect exteriors of those we admire are just more hurting hearts like ours. Slowly, we begin losing focus of what it really means to live as true members of the Body of Christ.
Our need for perfection creates walls of isolation and fakery, stifling our vulnerability. The more we try to be perfect like everyone else, the further we push people away. We sink into ourselves and neglect fellowship for fear of being found out. The ugliness inside us craves healing, but we ignore it because, God forbid, someone might have the chance to judge us.
Despite our loneliness, we still want that perfection. We ache for it. We lust for it. We don't want to admit we have messy lives. At night we gather the mental list and check all the boxes for the situations we passed with stunning brilliance. We're addicted to being the most dedicated and beautifully scripted person on campus. Beloved, don't think for a second you're fooling God.
In our search for humanity's love, we add fakery and pretense, hoping for a sum total of genuine acceptance from others. Not only does the math not cut it, but our basic drive for living pretentious lives is flawed. All our beautiful fakery is a result of wanting human acceptance, and in the end, that acceptance is unfulfilling. Only God can fill our voids. By denying your messy life and scripting your public Christian faith, you proclaim a desire for human connection over a desperate need for a Savior.
