Real reality

Lately, I've been catching up on old episodes of a hit reality show called Duck Dynasty. Now, THAT is some seriously awesome entertainment right there. If you're not familiar with the show, it's basically about a Christian family in Louisiana who founded and still operate a duck-call company. They live in a predominantly rural area. They spend much of their time hunting, cooking, and creating their own random redneck adventures that anyone can relate to. They are resourceful, opinionated, and hilarious.

During one of the episodes, I believe it was Jason Robertson who said, "My mom and dad were hoarders before hoarding was cool." Well, I guess you could say that hoarding is cool in the sense that TV producers make reality shows out of it. But I personally don't think hoarding is cool at all. At least, not anymore.

I have a friend who is a hoarder. I didn't know she was a hoarder until she invited me over to her home. She was very hospitable and fed me dinner. At first, when I saw empty plastic bottles adorning the kitchen and roaches crawling on the walls, I thought maybe she was just a bit messy. But as the evening progressed and I noticed that roaches were crawling everywhere, garbage was strewn haphazardly throughout her home, and my skin began to crawl, her "I'm a hoarder" announcement made sense.

As the meal progressed, I noticed that she had served me a very nice china plate that appeared to have insect poop on it. I also think she dropped part of the food on the floor before she served it to me. I didn't complain outwardly, but inwardly I was praying. Jesus answered very kindly, "I would eat it. I do that with you all the time."

"Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears My voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and dine with him, and he with Me." (Revelation 3:20)

"Jesus answered and said to him, 'If anyone loves Me, he will keep My word, and my Father will love him, and We will come to him and make Our home with him." (John 14:23)

"Ointment and perfume delight the heart, and the sweetness of a man's friend gives delight by hearty counsel." (Proverbs 27:9)

Of course, anytime you see that your friend has any kind of problem, the natural tendency is to spew unsolicited advice. While my friend and I were getting to know each other, and swatting away the roaches, we discovered that we had similar mental-health issues. I tried to gently empathize with her. I was like, "I think it would be very easy to just grab a garbage bag and dump stuff in. We could start with the empty bottles..." And my friend's eyes slightly widened with a hint of panic. But I continued to explain that I knew that I couldn't just wave a magic wand and voila, all her problems would disappear. She agreed.

Jesus is so like that, too, especially with me.

It's uncanny how many "layers" or "departments" or "piles" (or however you want to describe them) of issues can exist in a single soul. I think it's also equally uncanny how difficult it can be to find people in the body of Christ who will understand how huge of an undertaking it can be for Jesus to heal a person emotionally.

Some Christians act like prayer is some sort of magical "abracadabra, alacazam, presto, change-o, rearrange-o" formula that will instantaneously fix everything. They're like, "In the name of Jesus, be healed," which certainly could work, and which certainly has worked in the past, especially with physical healing. But emotional healing can take a heck of a long time.

I think Jesus understands this, too. When a person gets saved, when a person first gives their life to Jesus, they basically become His temple, and He basically moves in. Sometimes He instantly makes some things better. But other times, He grabs a magazine and starts reading and relaxing, because He knows He's gonna be working in one particular area for a long time. (At one point during my emotional healing journey, He showed me a "picture" of Him hanging out in my house, inside a room packed with magazines from floor to ceiling. I was freaking out, but He was just calmly reading a magazine.)

People aren't objects. You can't just literally sit me on a conveyor belt and create me on an assembly line. People are family. If You eternally adopt me, You're going to commit to walking alongside me for a really long time while I relearn what it really means, well, to walk.

Reader, I hope I'm making sense. Sometimes God can speak a word and split things wide open, like it says in Psalm 29. Other times, you have to squinch your eyes shut while Father God prunes parts of you that you never dreamed you would have to say goodbye to, and you decide that you're going to remain in the Vine, and you believe in faith that you're going to bear lots of fruit, like it says in John 15, even though you may not see any changes right away.

I wonder how slimy my hospitality skills have been to Jesus while He's dined with me in my "house." I'm thinking maybe I sneezed on His plate, wiped it clean with my cat's tail, and offered it to Him with a bit of mildew. I'm thinking maybe He accepted it with a kind grin and genuinely told me how He was truly looking forward to dining with me. Maybe I forgot to check the expiration date on the canned ravioli, and it smelled a bit questionable when I popped it out of the crusty microwave. Maybe I accidentally dropped part of it on the floor, but He told me He would be glad to eat it, anyway. Maybe He killed half a dozen roaches at the table while I wasn't looking. But He didn't get sick from the unsanitary conditions. He gently counseled me on the humongous cleanup job we had ahead of us. Perhaps I wasn't ready to give up my garbage yet, but I noticed how impeccably clean His robe was, and the last thing I wanted to do was let Him soil it while He was in my house... because technically, my house is His house now.

So, the cleanup job begins, and He lets me use His gas mask while we mine through the rooms, unearth a few rats' nests, and kill a few snakes. My hands shake with fear, but He is cooler than a cucumber, because He's done this before. And He really seems to enjoy it.

Reality TV is fun entertainment to watch, whether it's a show about hoarding or a show about rednecks who enjoy the outdoors. But when the show is over, I have the luxury of turning off my TV or laptop, and I can return to my everyday life.

I don't think God gets to do that while He watches over me. He sees all the good, the bad, and the ugly. He doesn't get to change the channel. But He does help me see a clearer picture. And He's committed to sticking with me during each and every episode, through each and every season, from now through eternity.

Now, THAT is some seriously awesome love right there.