Alcohol Isn't the Problem

 Alcohol drove me to write this post two and a half years ago, and our culture’s dependency on drinking has once again compelled me to share my thoughts.

Originally, I wrote a well-crafted argument full of biting rhetorical questions and vindictive one-liners aimed at my "partying" Christian friends, but after some prayer and reflection I realized the piece came out angry, bitter, and judgmental; there’s a fine line between righteous and self-righteous, and I landed squarely on the wrong side. So I said goodbye to my precious words, held the backspace button for three minutes, and started from scratch.

I realized that the real issue isn't alcohol, but what we value in life. While I may not have a drinking problem, I have a lot of other habits and tendencies that prevent me from being 100% sold-out for Jesus: sometimes I care too much about how I look, or snap at my parents, or carelessly hurt someone's feelings. My problem is that I too often value myself over God and His people.

I don't want to be just another mediocre Christian who bounces from "on fire for God" to "goes to church once a week and sometimes opens the Bible." I want something deeper.

So, I came up with seven questions to ask myself:

1. What does it mean to live a life set apart?
2. Am I living a life of integrity—am I the same person on Saturday night that I am on Sunday morning?
3. Is my love for Christ obvious to others simply by the way I’m living?
4. Am I more concerned with helping others or with satisfying myself?
5. How does my life reflect the victory I have in Jesus, who has overcome the world?
6. Am I setting a good example for those younger than me?
7. How badly do I really want to follow Jesus?

I didn’t enjoy asking myself these questions because I wasn’t proud of a lot of my answers. Yes, I serve a gracious, loving, and forgiving God, but I also serve a righteous God who demands holiness from me. There’s no reason for me to be wallowing in mediocrity when Jesus Christ has amazing plans in store for me if I'll just give myself over to Him. Our God has overcome the world and defeated our sinful nature; we should be living in victory.

I think the Newsboys said it best in their song “In Christ Alone.” 

“And as He stands in victory,

Sin’s curse has lost its grip on me.

For I am His and He is mine,

Bought with the precious blood of Christ.

No guilt in life, no fear in death,

This is the power of Christ in me.”

Imagine what God can do through us if we truly give ourselves over to Him—even in our spare time, and even on the weekends.

Running for Jesus

“Who are you running for?” 

“Jesus.”

“But are you really?”

When I was in high school, my soccer team had to run laps around the neighborhood. We’d start off at an easy pace, but as soon as we turned the corner to where the guys soccer team could see us, we’d start sprinting past them. Then, once we were out of their view, we’d go back to our comfortable jog.

This was a win-win situation: The boys were impressed with us and we only had to sprint for about 15 seconds at a time. But then one of my captains came and shattered this beautiful world I had created for myself when she pulled me aside and asked me a simple question that we both knew the answer to.

“Who are you running for?”

I said “Jesus” but we both knew that wasn’t the truth. I wasn’t running to give glory to God; I was running to give glory to myself. I was running to impress the guys (who, let’s be honest, weren’t even watching).

I wasn’t finding my value in Jesus, but in the opinions of others. This is a struggle I face every day. 

Last week I found myself hunched over on the floor of my dorm room in the midst of an emotional breakdown, my cheeks streaked with Maybelline-tears because I didn’t think I was smart enough, or pretty enough, or good enough. I was a mess. I had put so much pressure on myself to perform well in school and to be well-liked by everyone and I felt like I had failed.

Here I am in the middle of a total meltdown, and I turn to my homework instead of to God—I guess that shows just how far off-track I had gotten. So I get on my laptop, start reading the Merchant of Venice, and am struck by one of the opening lines of the play (here is the No Fear Shakespeare paraphrase):

“You don’t look well, Antonio.

You’re taking things too seriously.

People with too much invested in the world always get hurt.”

Oh, Shakespeare. You’re like a 16th-century Taylor Swift; you always know just what I’m going through.

These three lines summed up exactly what was happening in my life: I had been way too caught up in the world and it all finally caved in on me. By the world’s standards, I’ll never be smart enough, or pretty enough, or good enough. I’ll never be enough.

After I finished reading the play—soaking my keyboard in the process—I prayed. I begged God to comfort me with the knowledge that He is enough for me. And then I finally opened up His Word. I’m a little ashamed to admit this, but I did the whole “randomly flip open to a page of the Bible and hope it directly relates to my situation” thing ... And not to brag, but it totally worked.

I opened right up to Matthew 6, which is all about doing things for God and not for the praise of men.

On giving to the poor: “But when you give to the poor, don’t let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your giving may be in secret. And your Father who sees in secret will reward you.”

On praying: “But when you pray, go into your private room, shut your door, and pray to your Father who is in secret. And your Father who sees in secret will reward you.”

On fasting: “But when you fast, put oil on your head, and wash your face, so that you don’t show your fasting to people but to your Father who is in secret. And your Father who sees in secret will reward you.”

Are you starting to see a pattern here? 

And then comes this familiar little passage, beginning in verse 19, “Don’t collect for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal. But collect for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys, and where thieves don’t break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”

My treasure was on earth.

I wasn’t worried about money or possessions, but I was getting my value from the way the world saw me. I obsessed over getting good grades, looking thin, and getting attention. I daydreamed of winning awards and going to a respected grad school and writing a best-seller someday. Why? To bring glory to God? Not at all. 

I wanted to bring glory to myself.

The world can be a rough place sometimes. It will build you up and give you phony confidence and then turn around and punch you, kick you, and leave you to bleed. The world is that snobby junior-high girl that acts like she’s best friends with you and then turns around and spreads rumors about you the very next day. The world is the least loyal friend you could ever have.

I’ve been blessed with a pretty great life so far, but I know what it’s like to fail by the world’s standards. I mean, I got rejected by more colleges than anyone else I know. I know what it’s like to feel broken and dejected and depressed. I know what it’s like to lose in the championship, to be let down by my friends, to feel like I’m not good enough. And I’m sure you do, too. 

So here is a verse for the losers like me to take solace in:

“Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes.” (James 4:14)

I used to hate this verse. I didn’t want my life to be meaningless, merely a vapor in the wind that lasts a few seconds and then is gone. The idea depressed me. But now, I’ve found peace in the idea that my life doesn’t matter nearly as much as I think it does.

In 100 years, the world will probably forget I was ever here. I need to get a grasp on reality, to realize that my grades, my basketball stats, my awards—none of them really matter. 

Think of  the trophies you’ve won in your life . . . Now think of where they’ll be in fifty years. Probably the trash. 

A rapper named Watsky wrote recently, “There are 7 billion, 47 million people on the planet, and I have the audacity to think I matter.”

We aren’t that important. This world does not revolve around us and it will not stop spinning when we die. 

If we want our lives to be worth something, if we want to do something of value, then we need to dedicate our lives to God. We need to find our value in being his children, find our purpose in serving His people, find our worth in bringing Him glory. 

We need to stop running for ourselves and start running for Jesus.

Because nothing else really matters.

                                                                                                                                                                                                            

How to Be a Hipster Christian

You there, sitting on the aluminum chair in the back of a warehouse-turned-church wondering if the world’s supply of pews has been taken up in the Rapture. You’re looking around, completely confused by what you see: flannels, hiking boots, guys in skinny jeans.

You are lost; this is not the world you grew up in. Somehow, some way, you Rip Van Winkled your way through the past 15 years, only to wake up and find that you’re no longer living in 1998.

Don’t worry, though. I can help you navigate the confusing world of hipster Christianity that has taken over mainstream churches across the country.

First, take off your WWJD bracelet and throw away your purity ring (Quit grinning, buddy. You’re throwing out the ring, not the purity). Stop listening to “Lord, I Lift Your Name on High” on your Walkman—better yet, throw out your Walkman—and please, please, please get rid of those baggy cargo pants.

That’s a little better, but you still have a long way to go, so out of the kindness of my progressive 21st-century heart, I will walk you step by step through the arduous but rewarding process of becoming a hipster Christian.

Step One: Look the Part

Although hipster Christians have evolved past the point of judging others, they won't hesitate to condemn you to hell for wearing a cute new sweater from J. Crew. Don't fret, though. Dressing like a hipster is easy—just copy your metrosexual worship leader.

 Throw on some skinny jeans or a vintage dress (bonus points for a romper!) and layer v-necks, flannels, and cardigan sweaters. A hipster Christian will replace his ironic Ninja Turtles t-shirt with a similarly-ironic shirt starring Larry the Cucumber. (Remember: Shirts like this are only to be worn ironically; you can't have people thinking you actually like them).

Other hipster fashion staples include glasses (plastic or horn-rimmed), scarves, beanies, and bow ties. When it comes to hair, women should always—I repeat, ALWAYS—have bangs. The rules aren't quite so rigid for hipster guys, but this look will never fail you: slick crop, unkempt beard (or better yet, a mustache), and chest hair poking out of your deep V-neck.

And finally, your feet. You have some options here, ranging from work boots to "Jesus sandals" to classic TOMS (saving the world one overpriced shoe at a time).

Ultimately, you should look like you either came from hiking the Appalachian Trail or saving the environment—which, let's face it, are really the same thing, am I right?

Step 2: Revamp Your iTunes

Remember all that Jars of Clay and Relient K you used to listen to? Well, forget it. (No, I don't care how much you used to love "Sadie Hawkins Dance." You have to move on.) As far as you're concerned, the Dove Awards no longer exists. The only exceptions are Newsboys and dcTalk; you can leave them on your iPod because all of your friends will automatically assume it's ironic.

That's okay, though, because now you're free to listen to good music. With Jon Foreman, NEEDTOBREATHE, and Sufjan (pronounced SOOF-yan) Stevens, you're all set with quality bands that your unaffiliated friends won't judge you for. Pedro the Lion is a great band, too—but make sure to mention that David Bazan became more spiritual after he left “the Church.”

The whole idea of a "Christian artist" is pretty stupid anyway, right? You can get just as much spiritual edification from listening to the likes of Iron & Wine, Imagine Dragons, and Bob Dylan. You should listen to Bon Iver sometimes, too, but really just focus on correcting your culturally-unaware friends when they mispronounce the name.

Another trick is to make sure everyone knows that you like every artist's first album better than the more popular and critically-acclaimed follow-up.

Be sure to browse Pitchfork and Gorilla vs. Bear to stay ahead of the latest trends, because once a song is on the radio, you can't like it anymore. The radio is not for music; the radio is for NPR.

Step 3: Watch the Right Movies

Did Wes Anderson make it? Does it star Natalie Portman? Then watch it, quote it, tweet about it. Your DVD collection should include Garden State, Rushmore, Reality Bites, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, and Fireproof (to laugh at of course. LOL at Christian movies!).

Step 4: Don't Watch TV

You don't own a TV . . . because you have Netflix on your laptop, duh! Your go-to shows include Mad Men, Arrested Development, and Breaking Bad. You also make sure to stay up-to-date with current events by watching CNN, The Daily Show, and SNL's "Weekend Update."

You NEVER watch Fox News unless it's to mock the hosts.

Step 5: Update Your Library

What? You still have I Kissed Dating Goodbye taking up coveted space on your bookshelf? Toss it in the tra—I mean recycling bin—and replace it with books from Donald Miller, Rob Bell, and Chuck Klosterman. Don't forget to stock up on classics by CS Lewis, Allen Ginsberg, Flannery O'Connor, and St. Francis of Assisi. They're probably over your head, but don't be alarmed; that's what Wikipedia is for.

Your coffee table is another important place for showing off your exceptional taste in literature. The dedicated Christian hipster will have RELEVANT magazine displayed alongside Vice and The New Yorker. Make sure to hide your Cosmo; you want your friends to think you’re above that sort of thing.

Step 6: Like Cool Things

Your new hobbies must include: biking, gardening, buying overpriced organic food because it makes you feel good about yourself, hiking mountains, getting tattoos in Hebrew, holding Bible studies in microbreweries—scotch and Jesus, hurrah!—Instagramming photos of crosses and coffee, staunchly condemning conformity and consumerism from your iPhone, shopping at fruit markets, getting arrested for protesting/occupying Wall Street, and telling your friends that you bought all four of your $140 American Apparel sweaters from thrift shops.

Your new interests must include: retro Diana cameras, flasks that say "Jesus drank wine," typewriters, interior design, banjos, ukeleles, blogging, tweeting, posting pictures of yourself with African babies, and drinking Fair Trade coffee or tea from your durable thermos cup.

You should also dislike mathematics, the Tea Party, country music, Hummers, contact lenses, and all sophomore albums.

Step 7: Hold the Right Beliefs

This is where the Hipster Christian really sets his/herself apart. Here are some tips:

* If someone calls you a Christian, make sure to correct them with a snarky, "I prefer the term Christ-follower, thanks." (And pray that they don't bring up the fact that "Christian" actually means "Christ-follower.")

* Inform everyone you know that you don't believe Christians should engage in politics, but make sure you put an Obama sticker on the back of your Jeep Wagoneer—please, no Jesus fish—and never forgive your parents for voting for Bush back in '04.

* Argue about the "authenticity" of every person, place, or thing.

* Remain ambiguous on issues like sexuality because you don’t want to offend anyone.

* Roll your eyes whenever you hear the term "evangelical" and instead describe yourself as a member of the "emergent church."

* Snicker at the mention of James Dobson or John MacArthur (The Pope is the man, though!)

* Act as if Jesus is the only part of the Trinity.

* Thank Michael Moore for your enlightened outlook on the world.

* Save the environment one bike ride at a time.

* Pride yourself on being a non-judgmental freelance photographer who spends all of her money at Whole Foods, as opposed to one of those annoying conformists who selfishly choose to live in the suburbs and work 9-5 jobs for corporate America, even if their paychecks do keep our government, churches, and World Vision up and running.

Step 8: Attend a "Cool" Church

Where you go to church says a lot about who you are. If you want to stay cool, you have two main options:

1. If you live in an urban area, you can choose a young church that meets either in somebody's home or in an abandoned warehouse with uncomfortable seats. The worship should be led by a confirmed hipster whose musical talent is equaled only by the depth of his V-neck.

As "Stuff Christian Culture Likes" points out, "Pastors vie to be as relevant as possible. Distressed jeans, brewery T-shirts, wireless headset mics, and thin Bibles that they hold rolled up in their hand whilst preaching are a must."

"These churches also like to play U2 during their worship sets, leaving an opportunity for the pastor to explain that we still haven't found what we're looking for."

2. On the opposite end of the church spectrum is the liturgical "high church" model. Originally associated with Anglicanism, more and more Presbyterian and Lutheran churches are taking this type of approach, which closely resembles Catholicism in structure but is far more liberal in thought. 

This is the ideal place for the intellectual Christian hipster who, despite never having attended seminary, knows far more about the Bible than the ordained minister of the local Baptist church.

Congratulations! 

You look the part, talk the part, and think the part.

Welcome to the 21st-century; you are now a Hipster Christ-follower.

The only thing left for you to do is make fun of all those dumb evangelicals who don't know how to think for themselves.

(Disclaimer: This post is not meant to be offensive. I have purposely portrayed a caricature of a “hipster Christian” who fits every single stereotype, from loving CS Lewis to wearing TOMS, and who probably doesn’t exist even in Greenwich Village.

A response to the sometimes close-minded nature of 20th-century mega-church Evangelicalism, hipster Christianity is, in many ways, a major improvement. It is more open to intellectualism, environmental concerns, and issues of social justice (to name just a few), and attempts to strip away a lot of the restraints that our generation felt growing up in the Church. But while I can see the good intentions of progressive Christians and identify with them in a lot of ways (I don’t have a cool mustache, but I did pose as a fan of Bon Iver for months before I figured out the name doesn’t rhyme with “swan diver”) I fear that we have been too quick to dismiss the wisdom of our parents in favor of shallow idealism. 

And I think that’s the main problem with 21st-century progressive Christianity: In our genuine desire to “do things right,” we’ve developed an accidental arrogance. 

We think that we—with our few decades-worth of life experience—are somehow smarter than the billions of people who have come before us. We scoff at the ignorance of the older generations of Christians who don’t understand what it means to truly follow Christ. We think we’re better Christians than our grandparents because we drink real wine at Communion. 

We need to look at ourselves with that same critical eye that we use to judge pop culture and realize that we can still learn a thing or two from our elders. We need a little humility—and that starts with being able to laugh at the irony at work within our own generation of Christianity. 

Let’s not get so caught up in appearances that we are distracted from doing the will of God).