Scarlet "A" & Un-sanctified

I was twenty-one when I was first told I had "lost my testimony." A trusted pastor from a neighborhood church heard rumors of an unruly night my friends and I had on the South Side. He made it clear, in no uncertain terms, that he implicitly believed the rumors and that those of us caught in these acts of debauchery had lost "our witness." We had lost our testimony and therefore our volunteer roles on the worship team.

Unfortunately, I grew up Baptist. So I knew better than to begin to question my salvation but what I did begin to question, was Myself. And Grace. And God. I began to question the point of choosing right after having chosen wrong. What would be the allure of repentance without the potential of restoration?

Punishment hardly ever works because atonement by good deeds or shunning because of broken covenants, isn't convincing or inspiring. It's isolating.

The Scarlet Letter

I had walked the narrow plank to the alter time and again as a child. I wasn't the kid who needed convinced she was a sinner. (You don't lose your sexual purity as a child - irregardless of where responsibility lies - and maintain the kind of image necessary to belong to the good girl's club.) I wasn't the young adult who needed to learn how to take responsibly for my wrong-doings. It takes a coward to blame a child; it takes a village of assholes to brand a scarlet letter on the heart-broken.

I think a truly conservative thinker could make a decent argument for the "lost testimony"concept and the church discipline incurred by said rumors. Leadership needs to be pure and undefiled, yada yada yada. (Though truth be told, I have yet to find a leader even close to pure or undefiled, but that's a subject for another day.)

I don't know. I get it. But also?

I don't.

...It's not the hugest secret, or maybe it is, that Michael and I are going through a very difficult time. Without getting into the details, I'll just say it's been the most painful season of our lives and quite possibly the most difficult path to discern. And though we are striving and hopeful and doing everything possible to personally grow and fight like hell for our family, life has taught us over and over that even the purest of hopes can disappoint. And hurt people, hurt people.

I've observed recently how people in a current season of "un-struggle" often act in the same spirit as that neighborhood pastor from my early 20's. It's not really the obvious judgment or rumor mongering, it's the demotion and shunning that hurts and isolates - the disallowance of grappling and heartbreak that's astonishing. Like if one area of a person's life is out of control or in crisis for a few months or even a year (*gasp*), somehow the entirety of who they are becomes questionable, regardless of years of positive, selfless or life-giving "testamony."

It must be nice to have a perfect marriage and a perfect life with perfect leaders on top of a grassy green hill. I should know - I used to live there (or so I thought. Or so I wanted to think).

Having believed this place was an empire, I now know illusions when I see them. The fall from grace can be quick. And the vultures don't waste time.

Drawing hard-lines for struggling people takes some balls (perfect ones, I hope...are there such things?!)  But I'm not convinced hard-lines and isolation are the best ways to love people. Jesus asked, especially, to see Peter, post-reserection. Because second (and third and fourth and seventy-seven) chances were important to a perfect Savior. Peter denied Jesus. He messed up in one big area of his life, but he wasn't lost in totality. And the time between dishonor and restoration was a matter of days - not years - and certainly far from a lifetime of distrust and shaming.

Why do we write people off just because they struggle in ways we do not, or in ways we are just afraid to admit? Why is it so easy to proclaim punishment and isolation and time-outs but not invite restoration, hope or forgiveness? It's timeless - the allure and ease of pointing fingers vs. sitting across from a struggling friend and together, as equals, breaking bread. Did we learn nothing from Hester Prynne's life?  Do we take nothing from the teachings of Jesus?