[This was such a long post covering many different things that I decided to make it a series of smaller post to make it easier to read and digest. But I've added some changes here and there, and even corrected them in the original post, too. Click here for the posts in this series.]
Oh my goodness, does anybody else feel this song, too?
"What are y'all doing down there? I don't know, Lord."
I don't know, Lord.
What a mess.
God help us.
God help me.
"Sometimes I look up to the sky and wonder, 'Do you see us down here, O Lord?'"
I totally love Nate (NF) for saying the real, raw, hard things that many of us think and feel but don't often admit out loud, the things we're afraid to say because they don't sound very "good Christiany," the kinds of things Job cried out honestly but that his religiously-high-and-mighty friends scolded and shamed him for.
How about these lines from his song "Paralyzed": "When did I become so numb? When did I lose myself?... When did I become so cold? When did I become ashamed? Where's the person that I know? They must have left, they must have left with all my faith. I'm paralyzed. Where are my feelings? I no longer feel things I know I should. I'm paralyzed. Where is the real me? I'm lost and it kills me inside. I'm paralyzed."
My goodness, it doesn't get much more heartbreakingly-honest than that.
Except for this (from "Fear"): "Hello, Darkness, my old friend. Knocking at my door again, begging me to come outside, and let you back into my life. Now usually I'd be strong enough to lock the doors and keep 'em shut, but not today, I'm desperate. So go ahead and come on in... Disappointed? Yeah, me too. I thought I had finally made a breakthrough, guess not. It's the same song and dance, you've all seen it before: Darkness holds out his hand and we walk to the floor... What's the truth? What's a lie? Help me, God. Help me, Lord... Lost my hope, lost my will, lost my joy... lost my home, lost my faith, lost my voice."
Wow, so transparent. So raw. So real. So powerful. These are some of the most incredibly powerful songs I have ever heard. Absolute gut punches. And "Fear" is probably the most amazing song video I have ever seen. Seriously. It hits me so incredibly deep every time I watch it, my goodness. These songs alone would be enough to make me a forever-fan of his. God bless him. So raw, so honest, so unvarnished. My favorite kind of people, of Christian.
Of course, I wish no one ever experienced deep heart-crushing, soul-shaking pain like this, but I'm so thankful that he says it real, says it like it is, so proud of him for baring his soul so openly, so vulnerably, even the ugly things. No masks, no fake smiles, no overly-simplistic pat answers, no useless Christian platitudes.
Those of us who've been there - who've watched helplessly as life fell apart around us and there was nothing we could do about it; who've been knocked flat on our backs and then watched life speed by faster than we could get back up again and catch up to it; who feel so beaten down by life that we find it safer and less painful to just give up, stop caring, stop trying, and stay down - we're the ones who need this. We need to know we're not alone, need to have someone else come alongside us in our mess, need to hear them say the things we're struggling with too (again from Paralyzed):
"I'm paralyzed, I'm scared to live but I'm scared to die. And if life is pain, then I buried mine a long time ago, but it's still alive. And it's taken over me; Where am I? I wanna feel something, I'm numb inside. But I don't feel nothing, I wonder why. I'm in the race of life, and time passed by. Look, I sit back and I watch it, hands in my pockets. Waves come crashing over me, but I just watch 'em, I just watch 'em. I'm under water but I feel like I'm on top of it. I'm at the bottom and I don't know what the problem is. I'm in a box, but I'm the one who locked me in. Suffocating and I'm running out of oxygen. I'm paralyzed."
I know that feeling: Hands in my pockets, just watching the waves crash over me, unable to stop them. It sucks, but I don't know what else to do. I've already tried everything I could think of. And so all that's left is to just stand there and watch the waves come, praying that with my feet firmly planted on God's truth, I can make it through.
Those of us who've been there need to know that it's okay to be this honest, to admit to being this broken, this helpless. And we need assurance that we can make it through pain so deep. And so I deeply value Nate's kind of honesty, his kind of heart, his kind of faith. Songs like these are sometimes more helpful than all the shiny, happy, positive-spin songs and inspirational sermons put together, like a desperate-heart's-cry Psalm we find comfort in.
Yes, sure, sometimes saying the painful things out loud hurts us more, reminding us of the pain... and keeping us in the pain... and allowing Satan to increase our pain. (So don't do it if it's not the right time for you, if it's the shiny, happy, inspirational, positive-spins that help you most right now.) But sometimes admitting the painful things actually helps, allowing us to vent it, to face it, to get past it, breaking the hold that the painful struggle and the shame about our painful struggle has on us. Sometimes admitting that we hurt and struggle and that it's okay to hurt and struggle helps us feel less bad about our painful struggle, less ashamed. Ya know what I mean?
It's okay to not be okay (as long as we don't stay not okay). It's okay to be NF-honest about not being okay (as long as we aren't talking ourselves deeper into being not okay). And sometimes being brutally and vulnerably honest about it (when we're ready and able to) - to ourselves, to God, and maybe even to others who are understanding, compassionate, and gracious - is exactly what it takes to break the hold it has on us. Anyway, along with my other two favorite faith-filled, honest-about-the-struggles bands - Twenty One Pilots and The City Harmonic - he's been a blessing to me. Thank you, Nate. Thank you.
Now, I know what some of you are thinking about his lyrics: "Gasp! Good Christians can't say those kinds of things or ask those kinds of questions or admit those kinds of thoughts. Shameful. 'How long will you say such things? Your words are a blustering wind.'" (Job 8:2)
But, you know what, I'm not concerned about being a "good Christian" anymore, at least not according to other people's strict, legalistic, holier-than-thou ideals of how "good Christians" should act. I want to be real. I need to be real. It hurts too much to not be real, to slap on that fakey, smiling, "good Christian" mask. Suffocating my soul. Strangling my faith.
And if you don't understand the kinds of things Nate sings about, if you haven't said or felt things like this, if you have the luxury of thinking "Christians can't be like that," then be thankful.
Thankful that you've been spared this kind of pain...
... for now.
But give it time. You might understand someday, finding yourself in those shoes.
You know, some of us Christians speak from book knowledge about deep pain and struggle, sharing advice and lessons learned based on things we've read in the Bible or from other people's stories. But some of us speak from deep in the trenches of pain and struggle, from years of difficult, personal spiritual battles over it. Don't shame, mock, or discredit those who've been in the trenches, those who know how bad the pain can get, how weak we are, and how helpless and hopeless we can feel. Don't pick up stones to throw at those who struggle, who fall, who fail, who've had to fight desperately hard to keep their faith. Be compassionate and gracious - not critical or judgmental - with those who've been in, or are in, the trenches, who've fought the hard battles firsthand and who have the scars to prove it. Because someday it might be you.
I'm not trying to discourage you, but to encourage you, to warn you, so that when it hits - when life knocks your legs out from under you and puts you through the wringer of pain - you'll know that you aren't alone. That it's okay. That it's part of being human in a fallen world full of fallen people. And that it's partly why God gives us other people, other believers, and the Holy Spirit: to come alongside us in the pain and help hold us up when we can't hold ourselves up anymore.
[A word of advice: Work on building your faith, making your faith in Christ as solid as possible, before this happens, digging in deep to figure out why you believe what you do and why you're right to trust Who you do. Don't wait until you're in a desperate place to discover the evidence that backs up the Bible and the claims of Jesus, that proves they are real and can be trusted. You'll need it during the hardest times you'll face someday. If you don't build your faith when you're in the good times, you won't have anything to stand on when you're in the bad times. (Plus, don't wait until you're in the hardest times to learn about spiritual warfare/spiritual weapons and how you can command demons to leave in Jesus's name and speak the Word out loud as the sword of the Spirit to battle evil. You'll need these, too.) Read about my evidence here, about how I know I can keep clinging to God even when life hurts and things don't make sense, how nothing else offers any kind of real answers or hope. To me, after having studied and experienced all that I have, a life of faith pretty much boils down to these: John 6:68-69: "Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life. We believe and know that You are the Holy One of God." Psalm 46:10: “Be still and know that I am God...” And Mark 9:24: "Lord, I believe; help my unbelief!" (And I could even add Matthew 26:39: “… My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from Me. Yet not as I will, but as You will.” And Job 1:21: "…The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; may the name of the Lord be praised.")]
Very few of us will escape life without coming face-to-face with a level of fear or doubt or despair we've never known before, questions we never needed to ask before, helplessness and hopelessness we've never felt before, or even thought possible.
This is part of the journey through life, through faith; something we'll all face someday, even Christians... if we're truly honest with ourselves and with God.
