Have I ever told the story of Unfortunate Joe? No?
Please note: the following takes place pre-Mark.
Picture me, circa 2001, sitting at a coffee shop wearing black Jack Purcells, reading Jack Kerouac, listening to Jimmy Eat World, feeling super emo and super cool. I was a hipster before hipsters were hipsters.
Enter, aside from my own husband of course, the most gorgeous young man ever to step foot in a Diedrich Coffee. Also wearing black Jack Purcells, the young man walks straight over to the group I'm with, sits down across from me and gives me his favorite lyric from Bleed American.
** Swoon**
His name was Joe.
He was a model.
And allllll the ladies pretty much fell over themselves trying to get his attention.
(Not me, of course, I would never do such a thing. Really I wouldn't. I have never in my life been labeled "boy crazy". Not ever.)
SOMEHOW Joe ended up asking me out on a date. (Read: he had an extra ticket to a show, just needed a ride to get there, and since I had a car, and he was gorgeous, I agreed.)
The fact that he "needed a ride" should've been red flag number one.
And the fact that "gorgeous" Joe was single should've been red flag number two.
But alas... off we went.
I gave it a solid three date try. I really did. And there were even some coffee "hang outs" in between dates. But the boy, for the life of him, could not carry on a conversation worth beans. He just couldn't. It was all music talk (which I was initially drawn to) and modeling details (which I mustered up my high school thespian skills in order to appear to be drawn to). Try as he might, there was simply nothing beyond his super shiny exterior. And believe me, I soooooooooo wanted him to be more than shiny. I liked walking into places with him and having all the girls immediately hate me. I basically had to tell him the truth, which I'm not even sure he comprehended, "I can only have so many conversations about Death Cab for Cutie and Calvin Klein, you know?" The end. All my girlie friends thought I was nuts. Joe... so good looking but so empty inside, it was just so, so, unfortunate.
*Real quick, let me dig myself out of a potential hole and say how incredibly fortunate I am to have met my extremely HOT, hunk of a husband Mark. Whose intellect, wisdom and charm have endless depth, and whose dashing good looks are only exceeded by his dreamy personality. Plus, he's a child actor, and child actor trumps model any day. Done and done.
The reason why I bring up the story of Unfortunate Joe (who is actually still called that to this day) is because he tends to come to mind when I think about a frighteningly large group of people who make up christians in Orange County. That is a HUGE blanket statement, I know. I tried to re-word it a thousand times, but the truth is it's really kind of an epidemic around here. Super shiny people on the outside, empty on the inside. There is a disconnect between the preaching of the Gospel and a receiving of the radical transformation that comes from a surrendered life to Christ. When an authentic heart change occurs, from a heart of stone to a heart of flesh, there is a new depth to life that was never there before. The beauty is not only on outside but deep, deep in the soul.
My fear is the sugar coated half-truth gospel that is being taught (some churches, not every church) is only creating surface Christians. Poster people for Christ who live a lifestyle that is completely void of any real substance. We can be so good at this too. Especially us who have grown up in Christian homes. We know exactly how a Christian should look, no? Not too unlike a model, we know how to be seen in the best lighting so our best Christian features are noticed.
Jesus knew this type.
"And the Lord said to him,“Now you Pharisees cleanse the outside of the cup and of the dish, but inside you are full of greed and wickedness. You fools! Did not he who made the outside make the inside also? But give as alms those things that are within, and behold, everything is clean for you.
Please note: the following takes place pre-Mark.
Picture me, circa 2001, sitting at a coffee shop wearing black Jack Purcells, reading Jack Kerouac, listening to Jimmy Eat World, feeling super emo and super cool. I was a hipster before hipsters were hipsters.
Enter, aside from my own husband of course, the most gorgeous young man ever to step foot in a Diedrich Coffee. Also wearing black Jack Purcells, the young man walks straight over to the group I'm with, sits down across from me and gives me his favorite lyric from Bleed American.
** Swoon**
His name was Joe.
He was a model.
And allllll the ladies pretty much fell over themselves trying to get his attention.
(Not me, of course, I would never do such a thing. Really I wouldn't. I have never in my life been labeled "boy crazy". Not ever.)
SOMEHOW Joe ended up asking me out on a date. (Read: he had an extra ticket to a show, just needed a ride to get there, and since I had a car, and he was gorgeous, I agreed.)
The fact that he "needed a ride" should've been red flag number one.
And the fact that "gorgeous" Joe was single should've been red flag number two.
But alas... off we went.
I gave it a solid three date try. I really did. And there were even some coffee "hang outs" in between dates. But the boy, for the life of him, could not carry on a conversation worth beans. He just couldn't. It was all music talk (which I was initially drawn to) and modeling details (which I mustered up my high school thespian skills in order to appear to be drawn to). Try as he might, there was simply nothing beyond his super shiny exterior. And believe me, I soooooooooo wanted him to be more than shiny. I liked walking into places with him and having all the girls immediately hate me. I basically had to tell him the truth, which I'm not even sure he comprehended, "I can only have so many conversations about Death Cab for Cutie and Calvin Klein, you know?" The end. All my girlie friends thought I was nuts. Joe... so good looking but so empty inside, it was just so, so, unfortunate.
*Real quick, let me
The reason why I bring up the story of Unfortunate Joe (who is actually still called that to this day) is because he tends to come to mind when I think about a frighteningly large group of people who make up christians in Orange County. That is a HUGE blanket statement, I know. I tried to re-word it a thousand times, but the truth is it's really kind of an epidemic around here. Super shiny people on the outside, empty on the inside. There is a disconnect between the preaching of the Gospel and a receiving of the radical transformation that comes from a surrendered life to Christ. When an authentic heart change occurs, from a heart of stone to a heart of flesh, there is a new depth to life that was never there before. The beauty is not only on outside but deep, deep in the soul.
My fear is the sugar coated half-truth gospel that is being taught (some churches, not every church) is only creating surface Christians. Poster people for Christ who live a lifestyle that is completely void of any real substance. We can be so good at this too. Especially us who have grown up in Christian homes. We know exactly how a Christian should look, no? Not too unlike a model, we know how to be seen in the best lighting so our best Christian features are noticed.
Jesus knew this type.
"And the Lord said to him,“Now you Pharisees cleanse the outside of the cup and of the dish, but inside you are full of greed and wickedness. You fools! Did not he who made the outside make the inside also? But give as alms those things that are within, and behold, everything is clean for you.
“But woe to you Pharisees! For you tithe mint and rue and every herb, and neglect justice and the love of God. These you ought to have done, without neglecting the others." Luke 11:39-42
(I think about this a lot as we are raising our children in a Christian home... but that's another post...)
Warning to shiny Christians who have accepted a mediocre gospel, believing a summer camp invitation has secured their place with our Savior who died and rose to make our insides unfathomably more beautiful than our outsides. To assume that a raised hand and a statement of belief is the equivalent to dying to myself and making Christ the Lord of my life would be unfortunate to the nth degree.
"I have been crucified with Christ and it is no longer I who live but Christ who lives in me. And the life I live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God who loved me and gave himself for me." Galatians 2:20
"And those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires." Galatians 5:24
"...seeing that you have put off the old self with its practices and have put on the new self, which is being renewed in knowledge after the image of its creator." Colossians 3:9 & 10
That's my kind of model.
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