“Our need is for {people} who can set the church ablaze for God, not in a noisy, showy way, but with an intense and quiet heat that melts and moves everything for God.” – E.M. Bounds
We were trying to make Jesus appealing to people. Our youth group would rent out our high school auditorium for shows. Christian concerts. Christian strong-men competitions. Christian BMX shows. If we could just get people in the doors, they would see and know. He could change their lives! Because nothing says Jesus like a man who can tear a phone book in two!
It was always extra exciting when he would show up. Tall, cute, and the star athlete, Ben also happened to be a Christian. Our names were next to each other alphabetically, and we were complete opposites – him, 6 foot something and Mr. Popularity, me barely 5 feet and shy. We grew up in the same churches together and were in the same on-fire youth group.
It was usually unspoken, but there was always this thought among the leaders and students of, ‘if Ben comes then it’s proof that we’re not crazy. That Jesus is just as cool as anything else.’ And of course, we all hoped his coolness, his popularity would rub off on us.
I still remember the Wednesday night when, packed into a single-wide trailer next to the church because we had outgrown the room inside, the youth pastor used him to try and make a point.
“Would you describe your walk with God as religion?”
“Yeah, definitely.”
If you’ve grown up in on-fire Christianity, you know that’s not the answer they’re looking for.
The youth pastor rephrased.
“Would you describe it as religion or a relationship?”
“Oh, yeah, a relationship for sure.”
I look back at those years and I wonder what kind of pressure he must have felt. It seemed like we all had this collective hope that if Mr. Popularity did Christian things, and publically claimed a ‘relationship with Jesus!’ that it would validate us.
And so when he would come to the major events and bring his friends – when they would all go up front and get saved – it was a bigger victory than normal people getting saved.
Now they would keep coming to church. Now they would stop partying. Now there would be proof that Jesus could change people.
Except that they didn’t. There was a kind of group sadness when he got caught with marijuana or there was a party or he started sleeping with his girlfriend.
And so we prayed that he’d come back to God, that all those kids would get their life back on track. Because isn’t staying on the track the point? Not messing up. Not doing anything ‘bad’. Because that’s proof that Jesus works, right?
If their lives didn’t change, then obviously, something wasn’t working. So try more programs, more shows, more anything! We walked around our high school passing out tickets to Heaven’s Gates, Hell’s Flames. If nothing else, we’ll scare you into heaven!
*****
I burned out in stages. Various life phases where the fire burned more than it purified. Those of us from that on-fire group have spread out. There’ve been missionaries and church planters, divorces and out-of-wedlock pregnancies, and some still so on-fire. The star athlete? Ended up staying in our small town, raising a family (and currently fighting cancer.)
What does it mean really, that Jesus changes lives? Is where we end up 15 years later proof that something worked or didn’t?
And isn’t being on-fire a good thing? Wouldn’t we all love to have people on fire for whatever cause is near and dear to our hearts?
What does a changed life really look like? Isn’t my conviction about social justice just a different standard of a changed life?
*****
I look back at the passion of my teen years and the passion of my now years, and I’ve learned that being passionate is a personality trait, not a Jesus ID card.
There were many good things about my on-fire years, but on the whole, they make me sad. I feel bad for the pressure we put on people and the pedestals we used. I regret thinking for so many years emotional responses were proof of God.
And mostly I’m sad that I was so self-righteous. When I switched youth groups at 17, I grilled the youth pastor about why so many of his students weren’t living Christian lives. Oh, yes I did. (*mortifying* to look back on.) I didn’t want to join a youth group that wasn’t serious about making people live the right way.
I’m sad that I was taught to convince people and convert them, instead of just knowing and loving them. I’m sad that I had such a narrow view of what it meant to follow Jesus.
I regret the fire I had burned and scorched so many people. I have feelings about the way fire was given to me, how misdirected, uncontrolled, and undiscerning it was.
I don’t know what a changed life looks like. Isn’t that kind of the point? That there’s no rules or formulas to follow? I don’t know what any life looks like, not really, outside of my own. Even that sometimes I don’t really know.
Looking back, it seems like we thought everything was so simple.
Take a match,
strike the box,
and you’re on fire.
But if there’s one thing that fire has taught me, it’s that nothing is simple.
This post is part of a synchroblog celebrating Addie Zierman’s book, When We Were On Fire. I laughed and bawled my way through it, sometimes at the same time. I would love to share some quotes from it, but the book is still packed in a box somewhere in this house, so you’ll have to settle for a few things I tweeted when I read it:
“You learned the word mainstream the day ‘Baby Baby’ came on the car radio”
“The truth is that there is so much that you’re not saved from.”
“I am beginning to think a miracle is an awfully evasive thing.”
But really, you just need to go get yourself a copy, especially if you grew up in evangelicalism, or wonder what it was like. Addie nails it in her description of that culture, and I found reading the book to be a soothing salve for some of my burns.
“I don’t know what a changed life looks like.” This. Oh, so very much yes. I have no idea either. It’s one of those phrases tossed out like a magic spell, but no one knows for sure what it does. I think in some churches it’s supposed to mean “no longer doing ‘bad’ things,” but the list of “bad” things is either miles long or completely nebulous. I like that you said the not knowing is the point.
I laughed slightly when I read this, because in high school, we wrote our own version of Heaven’s Gates, Hell’s Flames. and I performed in it, and there was the anorexic girl who starved herself to death and went to Hell because she wasn’t full of Jesus, and the couple who got pregnant at sixteen and killed their baby, and demons dragged them away screaming “murderer.” and we talked about writing a scene about “the gays,” but we didn’t dare, because that was too much sin to even pretend.
and now I sit here and sob, because I wonder how many people we scared away, how many hearts we broke and twisted and threw in the trash. because we weren’t loving. we were dragging them to Jesus by the throat.
I love your words, Caris. I love your heart. thank you for this.
Loved this line – “being passionate is a personality trait, not a Jesus ID card.”
There are lots of ways to live life, love others, and follow Jesus. Thanks for this.
I loved the section near the end where she talked about what we aren’t saved from, and the part about thought-terminating clichés. So good to have words to that.
I’m not sure if the video I remember was Heaven’s Gates, Hell’s Flames, but I know we watched on where a bunch of kids were in a car crash and the non-Christians were yelling at the Christians for not telling them. Is that the same one? Walked around in an unhealthy cloud of guilt for a while after that one.
Oh my gosh, Rachel, where were the adults during this? Don’t you wonder how they let that happen? It’s one thing to be young and working through things and figuring things out…we all make mistakes along the way but sheesh, someone should have stopped that.
I remember standing in the rain yelling at my non-Christian recent ex-boyfriend that I was so scared because if he died he would go to hell. I mentioned it to a friend later that night and she was like, “Yeah, not usually a great motivator…”
I grieved that one too.
The adults were behind us, smiling and whispering how proud they were to have such righteous children.
It breaks my heart. I’m free, but some of them, they’re still there.
Wow.
This post is terrific. I so relate to the “Jesus will set you free to be just like us good kids” culture and the mistaken idea that being “moral” made us righteous. Thanks for writing it!
Caris… the honesty in your story – the unflinching look back – is so powerful. Sad, yes. Hard, yes. But powerful because you are asking the questions and exploring the mystery of faith. I struggle with how to honor my past as a part of who I am today while regretting parts of it. I think about this as I yearn for my kids to have a faith that is real and life-changing (yes, whatever that means) and most importantly, theirs. Thanks for sharing this. It means a lot.
Loved this post (and your name). Thanks for sharing your story.
oh my gosh. That’s not too far off from the actual one. It’s so sad to me that they’re STILL DOING IT!!! I totally thought I’d google it and only find archived things. But nope, still going strong. UGH.
I’m pretty sure that’s it. If not, I saw that one too, haha! Yes, so much guilt. ‘why didn’t you tell me????’ augh. Imagine what it would have been like if they had put all that effort into something better and healthier?
thanks!
yeah, it’s hard, b/c there was so much good and learning and friendships that went on during all that. I don’t want to throw the baby out with the bathwater….but yet being honest about the damage and the pain….this is the first time I’ve really tried to process it like this.
ha, yeah that point has been painfully learned over the past few years.
thanks Anna!
It’s one of those things that I *know* why churches have rules and clear delineations. It makes it so easy to track and know…..but gosh. It just isn’t realistic! Not to mention unhealthy, etc. It’s just sad that so many of them resort to efficiency over honesty.
“Because isn’t staying on the track the point? Not messing up. Not doing anything ‘bad’. Because that’s proof that Jesus works, right?”
Oh, yes! So much has been lost under the false guidance of that approach to Jesus.
Loved reading your story, friend!
This is a phenomenal deconstruction of the proof-that-Jesus-works syndrome. So well thought-out, and true.
Yes! My favorite part too.
Thanks. I’ve read several of these synchroblogs today, so many wonderful thoughts to ponder, thoughts learned through the humiliation of passing from a desire for zeal to learning to love as we have been loved by our Savior who came to do just that. Thank you – I am sort of processing to be honest.
Wow, Caris, so much of my own story here. The self-righteous. The grilling the youth pastor (still makes me cringe) and some of the awful things I said to kids in my first youth group because their behaviour didn’t match up with their Christian label. Thank you for sharing. You’re so right- it’s just never that simple.
“I burned out in stages. Various life phases where the fire burned more than it purified.” Goodness, yes. This. I wrote more specifically about the way that it destroyed my friendships, but this is exactly what I meant. And I so understand the mortification and regret that you feel, Caris. Thanks for being so brave and honest here.
This is so wise and perceptive Caris. Oh those popular boys. We had a couple of those, and when you wrote that, I thought “OF COURSE.” We needed them to validate us. So much goodness here friend. Thank you for sharing.
What does it mean that Jesus changes lives? This is something I’m still wrestling with, and I’m not sure of the answer to that one.
And yes – passionate is a personality trait. By that reckoning, I reckon you’re still on fire, girl, and I like it.
I would love to know what he thought of me, haha. Looking back, he was so gracious about it. And at some point, he picked a few of us and took us on a ‘Leadership Adventure’ and we had an amazing camping trip to the UP of MI, so I must’ve made some kind of not-negative impression, haha!!!
ha! You give me way too much credit. But thanks 🙂
ha, thanks, I think 😉 Some days I just annoy myself. ‘why can’t I just be happy with how it is???’ 😛
yes, it’s been challening to read through all of the stories – heartbreaking and hopeful at the same time.
thanks friend 🙂
thanks for being such an instigator for healing!
“I regret the fire I had burned and scorched so many people.” This. I feel this, too. I’ve come to accept my fire (and even judgement toward people whom I determined to be “on fire” only for popularity’s sake) as so much immaturity and passion. But I regret, always, the way that fire burned others. So good, Caris.
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‘I look back at the passion of my teen years and the passion of my now years, and I’ve learned that being passionate is a personality trait, not a Jesus ID card.’
This is so spot on. I have always ALWAYS struggled with the fact that even as a 15 year old brand-new Christian desperate to know more about God, I was never comfortable with evangelising in the streets and talking about my faith; now with 18 years of faith under my belt I haven’t led a single person to Christ and that doesn’t make me a failure. I still hate evangelising and I still cringe in horror at all the on-fire statuses on facebook, going on about how great God is and sharing their verse of the day. It is so not me, and it has NOTHING to say about my walk with Jesus, and everything to say about the fact that I am not an extrovert, that being free from performing for others rather than God (or free from the ‘fear of man’ in Christianese) does not equate raising my arms in church or shouting ‘thank you Jesus’ during the worship time or being compelled to tell everyone how much I love Jesus for it to be true.
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