Birds of a Feather, Flock Together!

Week 3 Blog: April 15, 2024

Content Title: Birds of a Feather, Flock Together!

As I previously shared, my life revolved around church and my thinking was solely based on a very religious approach to all issues I ever encountered in life. Without fault, every problem was met with the similar solution, “Tienes que orar” (You have to pray). I can still hear my grandmother’s voice echoing in mind, repeating the words that even now I utter to myself when I am encountered with a dilemma. Prayer was and still is the solution that as a believer, we use to work through our predicaments. I was instructed to meet hardship head on with prayer.

Like all of us who has ever had to face an issue that required immediate handling, one time or another and we were met with the "just pray" response, I scoffed. I even dared to use biblical philosophy as a rebuttal in saying “Well, faith without works is dead faith,” insinuating that prayer was not the only answer. It was more frustrating that I was not receiving the solution the way I wanted it to come to me. And in typical fashion, each of my family members would never waiver stubbornly repeating the phrase to pray.

However, Unpredictable events tend to reveal our predictable nature.

Through this journey of complete surrender, I have learned that my nature was so predictable based on the scenarios I found myself in. I obtained the art of becoming a social chameleon at such an early age. I wish I could pinpoint how or when I became adept at fitting in whenever and wherever, but if I could find common ground, I would use it to my advantage. Even if it meant forsaking a piece of my character in doing so as I grew older.

I can recall heading to school on Monday’s during those “ancient” late 90’s years and connecting with my friends. Our usual conversation before class would center around our weekend plans, however my weekend plans were centered around a Friday night service (either youth or men’s ministry), a Saturday Choir rehearsal (my father was the Choir Director), and Sunday services (morning and evening). I LIVED at church. I could never compare my plans to theirs however, I always made valiant efforts to disclose minimal information about what my weekends looked like in lieu of the truth.

Who wants to explain why they spend countless hours at church at the age of 13?

No matter how many times I was asked, my weekend plans were produced to bring stories to life of trips into the Bronx to hang out with my family. Or if that excuse was used too much, I would fabricate stories how I was up late on a Sunday evening and did not get home until after midnight because I was hanging out at a diner. Which was not a complete lie, I just never mentioned that I was sitting with my family after a Sunday night church service. I worked every angle I could to make my plans aligned to meet their expectations.

This worked so well until my senior year of high school. To be blatantly honest, my high school career was a disaster, and I can own it (we will have plenty of time to walk through those years in detail). I started my senior year at Elizabeth High School in New Jersey and by the end of October, I had over 30+ absences in some of my classes. My mother tried working with me and admittedly, there was little we could do to ensure my tenure there would continue. So, like any good mother would do, she looked for other options.

Eventually, I was moved to an intimate Christian school to finish the debacle of my high school career that I created. I still balanced my lies and blurred the lines smoothly between old friend groups and new ones. Everything was going great until an unpredictable event revealed my nature. I was asked by a local youth group to share a word and I made sure I did everything to prepare as I typically would. I walked into the church and to my surprise, some of my classmates from Elizabeth High School and my new Christian school were in attendance. There was not a cave far enough that I was not willing to run to hoping to avoid that interaction. Unfortunately for me, I was walking in with some of my best friends, and I could not find that cave.

After the service, the inevitable confrontation occurred. Awkward at first, but I came clean and for the record, they came clean as well. Being young people who presented false impressions of our lives, it became a relief knowing that we all shared the uniqueness we were hiding. We were exposed and our vulnerability shed light on a very common topic that remains evident in our current lives.

Events like this would follow me from my youth to adulthood and in this season of surrender, I struggled with the idea of sharing my story. When God requested my whole surrender that evening in January, I immediately began working in obedience with some initial reluctance. It was the same reluctance and hesitation I felt those high school years. Many of my early conversations with God were requests about clarity on what details I would be disclosing and at what length.

Plainly, I could not figure out why I worried so much if I was going to be obedient to God and not man. The more I prayed and reflected on my younger years and how I chose to create my version of my story, it was pretty apparent. I formed them so I would not be viewed differently by my peers. Preoccupied that I would pass the “eye” test for what I should sound and look like, I made myself adapt to my surroundings.

I had to get to the bottom of my reluctance now. And more importantly, why was this moment in my life so integral in exposing one of my hidden secrets? It was never intended to expose that I did what most of us have done in our lives especially as a kid one time or another. Something I least expected became a focal point…The Church! It was meant to expose that all along, we do what is our predictable nature.

We Judge!

An act that has been subtly engrained into how we view people turns us into vultures where we look for any scrap of flesh to pick at with the first sign of unconformity. The imagination I used in my adolescence to hide my persona was enhanced with deeper creativity in hiding my struggles in fear of being the flesh and instead I chose to be a vulture.

It was easier to be the Pharisee then the Tax Collector. (Luke 18:9-13)

9 To some who were confident of their own righteousness and looked down on everyone else, Jesus told this parable: 10 “Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. 11 The Pharisee stood by himself and prayed: ‘God, I thank you that I am not like other people—robbers, evildoers, adulterers—or even like this tax collector. 12 I fast twice a week and give a tenth of all I get.’

13 “But the tax collector stood at a distance. He would not even look up to heaven, but beat his breast and said, ‘God, have mercy on me, a sinner.’

Naturally, at times I felt far from righteousness, and yes, this parable Jesus spoke of primarily hinges on self-righteousness, but I could not help to wonder how this Pharisee viewed a tax collector any less in the temple. Both sought the same mercy however one approached God boasting of his deeds while the other pounded his chest pleading and IDENTIFYING his deficiency. I was a sinner too, but I related to the Pharisee more.

I stand first in that line with my hand raised. GUILTY! I can admit that I found myself scrolling through social media self-righteously declaring the “I told you so’s” while reading through other’s issues publicized yet I struggled behind my screen. Yet, in one of my most unpredictable moments, what had been naturally predictable in hiding is being exposed unexpectedly. What had become so private in fear, became what drove me to continue to hide based on fear of what I was doing to others.

I was the hypocrite. I was the Pharisee!

Now, it is my (our) turn to be the tax collector. And I work through this story having learned to overcome my fear trusting that the mercy I (we) seek, does not come from man but from God Himself. Our stories that center around God’s love for us should never lose its integrity based on the judgement of others, much less lose the power based on what we feel our audience wants to hear. The filtered versions of what makes us look less like a sinner, but the unfiltered versions that show the pits of where His extended hand has pulled us from. When all along, we are all birds of the same feather.

We are all sinners seeking the same mercy and grace that at times, I was unwilling to show!

I will be the first to disclose, this topic will never be easy, and we are working to create a setting through this platform to help followers and unbeliever alike, understand that unveiling their stories will not be meant with judgement. Instead, they will be received into our churches, communities and even inner circles just as they are. Ruffled feathers and all, revealing their (our) hearts. I was raised to believe that prayer solves everything while others have yet to understand the power of genuine prayer. And that’s okay! My intention is simple, our stories WILL usher an era of undeniable proclomations of God's love that superceeds reluctance without hesitation. Including yours!

Next Week’s Content Title: Hurt vs. Conviction

-AMN

P.S. - Thank you Grandma!