"I'm glad you've found what works for you"

This is a repost from a close friend of mine back at home, and upon reading it, it dawned on me that I struggle with the same thing, and perhaps many do. Why? Why is it that as a believer of Christ Jesus, I get uncomfortable when my non-believing friends say "I'm glad you've found what works for you"? Shouldn't we be glad that we did find what works for us? Perhaps we do, but at the same time, there's something deeper, much much deeper than "what works for me". Christianity is not a religion, it is not a comfort, it is life.

From Ophelia Hu (oxhu.wordpress.com):

I renounced my atheism almost three years ago. (Happy almost-birthday to me!) When I tell this to my old friends and acquaintances, I frequently hear, “I’m glad you’ve found what works for you.” While these may be well-intentioned words, I can’t stand them.

I did not wander around in a vacuous space of spiritual limbo until I found a new hobby – something that could keep me occupied and give my days structure. No. My refusal to have faith was a faith system. Under scrutiny, that faith system crumbled, and my recognition of God’s existence was a response to that.

Faith is not a disposable t-shirt that comforts me. (There is nothing comforting about ridicule or persecution.) Nor is it a quintessential pair of jeans or little black dress – expected of me, and appropriate in social settings. (I am expected in my demographic to have no faith; and if I do, it is only socially appropriate to use it sparingly.) Rather, it is a one-size-fits-all life vest. It may not have fit around my stubborn, folded arms or around my shaking head at first, but I couldn’t just ignore it: it is critical to my survival.

God is not what “fits” me. That’s precisely what I had been seeking before I became a Christian. I sought something easy, moralistic, stylish, status-imbuing, that required no faith: a wide range of straight-up atheism to new-age hooha, paganism, universalism, and quasi-Buddhism that added up to nothing. A never-changing, never-ending God was the last thing I wanted. To be a follower of Jesus is difficult. It diminishes one’s attention on oneself and invites ridicule. It requires reliance, patience, and the strange desire to recognize and change one’s imperfect self. To be a follower of Jesus is not moralistic, since the first step to cementing my discipleship is to acknowledge my innate brokenness and the supremacy of only God to make me whole, which is a process that cannot be completed in my lifetime. To be a follower of Jesus is absolutely not stylish or status-imbuing, since the world laughs at Christians, and a vast majority of true followers of Christ are poor, persecuted, and without status in the world’s eyes. The fact that I chose and now daily choose to love and follow Jesus requires much more explanation than “I’m glad you’ve found what works for you” affords.

For a long time, I tried to understand why this response frustrates me so much. It frustrated me the very day it all clicked and I began to follow Christ, and I told my family and close friends. It frustrates me just as much today, three years later. It must be because it downplays the inherent struggle in intimating myself with God, who isn’t what I had expected or sometimes, what I can comprehend. It ignores my Jacobic wrestle with the angels. It disregards that this seemingly illogical transformation of the soul and encounter with the real, living God is possible. It is a non-confrontational, sometimes cowardly answer that dismisses the reality of my change, and its magnificent source. It blows off the empirical evidence of my transformed nature as delusion, and most importantly, it attempts to ignore that this can happen to you – to anyone.

I have already decided to follow Jesus, but every day I have a new story to tell of His loving, incredible nature. When I tell you these stories, or when the people in your life decide to choose Him, I challenge you not to feign a smile and say, “Good for you.” Dredge up those questions and doubts. Be honest. I’d love to talk to you.