What is Sin and What is the Christian?

I have been pondering on thoughts for the past few days. As I was transitioning between places, to and from phases, while expectations piled up and friends fade between and under.


Firstly was the idea and realization that in Christianity, we are never expected to fail once we have Jesus. It’s as if any pain or depression or badness or sin was wrong and that with Christ now, it should have been solved. Christ was the cure all and is the cure all but you’re not allowed to make mistakes. You’re not allowed to fall once more. You’re not allowed to be at a state where you’re not joyful.

Over and over you are called to sing with joy but your heart wretches and morphs into an emaciated corpse. Over and over, unknowing Christian friends stand up and the mocking dance where faith is inevitably raised and levied to a standard (and how does one blame when the Bible itself sets up heroes to a measuring tape of Faith and Love?). It’s as if there was only two persons. Two People: One that is Victorious in Christ, One that is against Christ. And when you fail, you stand in the territory of the Devil and there can be no forgiveness till you beg and you beg.


And that affects my view of relationships as well. It’s as if people were constantly writing articles about red flags and leaving when you see the need to. But what if realizing that there is a red flag isn’t a call for you to leave and be selfish and unloving and protecting your “faith” but for you to both work it out and seek God as first Love again?

In Christianity, you do make mistakes, but Old Testament heroes made mistakes and their lives were ended. Is there room for mistakes in Christianity? Is there room for grace? For periods of silence and periods where you can just rest the war items you carry on your chest? Where one can just refrain from the call of legalistic days and times and not be called an unfaithful? Not be monitored at each and every step?

I know the typical immediate answer. That Christ has saved us from all sins. That mistakes are normal and natural. That we fall but are expected to rise again. That one NEEDS to rise again before their salvation is forfeited.

Christianity is a bondage of sorts when you enter into it. Salvation is freedom. Christianity is not. Once you’ve crossed the line through that moment of clarity in the Sinner’s Prayer, all doubts must be cast or risk being labelled the traitor.


The other was the crushing confrontation of my idea of Sacrifice. I have been consistent in expressing the desire for me to sacrifice all when the need calls. Thieves rushing in and asking you to sacrifice your life or deny Christ? Sacrifice life. Called to be a missionary and die a death ala Jim Elliot? Search for opportunity. Yet recently, I am confronted with day to day very miniscule moments in which the questions was “Are you doing this for me? Is this glorifying to me?” and I run.

It’s as if I couldn’t see God in the minute and the daily day to day moments where my faith was not obviously threatened by external sources. I lived my life being asked to put up a fight and struggle or sink into rest and peace yet being condemned by my heart.

What is the Christian life?

What are moments of rest and peace?

When can my heart remain fluttering for God, where it beats slowly in pulsating growth, and flutters gently to a still in moments of pain?

How does one deal with religion?

How does one deal with faith that is living and dying and living, like a beating human heart?

I cannot take another moment where a Christian with very good intentions but poor ability to empathize comes again to me and throws typical verses of encouragement at my face. I cannot take another moment where another Christian is sharing moments of enlightenment in the bid to purify my heart. I cannot take it for you have not walked to the door and seek to find me before prescribing me or expecting chivalrous fellowship of hearty Christian talk. I cannot function anymore and yet cannot tell anyone without fear that the typical reaction is for them to spurt white gushing Church culture on my head in some bid to annoint the sinner once more. Don’t give me verses when you don’t know my context. Don’t expect perfection when I am only human, and cannot seek to make God happy and you happy when I’m fluffing into meaningless wispy air rather than white fluffy clouds. Don’t speak, nor pray, nor condemn, nor judge, nor expect, nor placate my heart or mind before my faith is ready to take it.

For to do it is to show selfishness and not love for you do not attempt to come in my own terms.

I cannot function anymore

but that’s alright

so let’s take it slow

I’ll start tonight


on this peachy blue purple star struck sky

on this dilapidated train track that goes on in the never ending night

of the forest green trees dappled with black

and the electric lines that silently silently silences the night

of a wind that touches fleetingly, my ear

of the heart that seeks galaxies and stars and the birthing of ages and light years


As I seek to find and to ponder meekly

Surely, sister, brother, in charity

to let me be till I can rise again

in my own time, from my own furnace,

from my own self burning, to your own pillaging,

Let me be,

and surely I will find


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