 Chapter 1 Did God Mean to Make Me Like This? Do you know the Sunday School rooms that always smell like Cheerios? This one definitely does! Mom leans down and gives me a hug. “I love you. Be good honey.” Then she leaves. Ok, where was I? Oh yeah, Cheerios. It smells like Cheerios. I wonder if we’re going to have Cheerios for a snack today? I hope not. Cheerios are only good with sugar. I remember last week when we had Cheerios and I got in trouble for pouring most of the sugar in the dish into my bowl. If she didn’t want me to use it, she shouldn’t have given me the whole dish! Sugar is good. Mom says it makes me hyper. I wonder if it makes my friends hyper? Oh man, Courtney just got here! She is really pretty: long brown hair. I wonder how long until Mom gets back from her “big church.” It seems like it takes a really long time for them to have church. I wonder if they play games up there like we do down here? Miss really-big-calves smiles and waves at me. She is my teacher. She smells like food. Not good food. I like her though because she smiles at me a lot. My papaw always smiled at me a lot. I remember sitting on his hospital bed right before he died. He would give me and my brother Joey rides on his bed. He was really skinny. Mom said he wasn’t always that skinny. I wish he didn’t die. My daddy died when I was a baby, and then my papaw died a few years later. A lot of people say I’m too loud and too hyper. I wonder if my daddy and papaw would like me if they were alive? Courtney comes over and says hey. I don’t know what to say, so I hit Seth who’s standing beside me. He starts crying. He’s not as tough as Joey. Joey would just hit me back. I wonder where Joey is? Mommy said he’s in the bigger kid’s class. I don’t get to go because I’m four. I heard they get to stand on their chairs when they sing songs. We don’t get to. I think it’s because Miss really-big-calves thinks we would break them. We wouldn’t. I stand on them when she’s not looking. I think she would probably break them. She is a really big lady. Mr. thin-gray-hair comes in. He helps watch us in our class. He asks us questions when we do Bible quiz. He doesn’t smile much. I don’t think he likes kids. I think he hates me. He calls me “Joshua” when I laugh in the Bible story time. Miss really-big-calves says it’s our “duty” to tell people about Jesus. I don’t mean to laugh, but it’s funny. She said duty. When I laugh, Courtney smiles at me. So I say something funny. Everybody laughs. Mr. thin-gray-hair makes me stand up and tell everybody I’m sorry for not loving Jesus enough to be quiet. I sit back down. I wonder if Jesus is upset with me for laughing about “duty.” I think He probably is. My teachers never smile much when they talk about Jesus. I guess Jesus is very mad at me when I don’t take the trash out right away or when I take cookies out of the cookie jar. They talk about cookie jars a lot, and we don’t even have a cookie jar. If we did, I would definitely steal cookies. I love cookies. Mom makes good cookies. I hope Mom gets here soon to pick me up, because a couple of the boys in my class are telling me I’m going to Hell for laughing at Jesus. I really wasn’t laughing at Jesus. I’m way too scared of God to laugh at Him. Mr. thin-gray-hair tells us that God will punish us if we make him angry. He made the whole world, so I know His punishments must hurt. Mr. thin-gray-hair is praying now. When he starts, he says “Dear Heavenly Father.” All the adults I know start their prayers like that. I guess they say Heavenly Father because they already have a father that lives on earth. I don’t have a daddy. I guess God is the only father I have now. I wish my only father wasn’t always mad at me for being loud and hyper. I can’t help it. I try to be still, but it feels like somebody is holding me down when I’m still very long. It makes me feel funny inside when I can’t move a lot. I know Mr. thin-gray-hair thinks I’m a bad boy. At least I don’t have to come back to his class until next Sunday. We come to church on Wednesdays too, but we go to the gym and run around. That’s really fun, and it makes it easier for me to listen to the Bible story. Courtney’s mom just came and got her. Mom should be here soon. Then I see her out in the hall. Mr. thin-gray-hair is talking to her. I know he’s telling her I’m a bad boy. I know Mom will ask me what happened. She never gets mad at me until she asks me what happened. I think she knows I don’t want to be bad. Joey’s standing behind her waving for me to hurry up. He’s probably hungry. We always eat lunch at my grandmother’s house. He loves Grandmother’s homemade rolls. I like them too, but he talks about them a lot. It makes her smile when he says he likes them. I like honey on them. Usually I get honey on the table though. Mom is done talking to Mr. thin-gray-hair. She smiles at me. She smiles at me a lot. I’m glad my momma doesn’t think I’m a bad kid. ………………………………......... As a young kid, I realized that I wasn’t “normal.” I hated it. I couldn’t read when the rest of my friends could. I couldn’t pay attention when we were in church, or when I was supposed to be doing my school work. I thought everything was funny! I remember laughing uncontrollably in the middle of very serious moments in big gatherings…usually church. I had major food allergies. We would go to restaurants with all my cousins, and I would wish that I could order what they were getting. I was so tired of fish I wanted to trip the waitress and beat her with the hushpuppies. I wanted to be normal so badly! I wanted to blend. I didn’t want to be “that kid.” I wanted to be accepted like everybody else. The harder I tried to fit in, the more awkward and conspicuous I felt. I knew my mom and my brother would love me and accept me no matter what. Besides them, I had no guarantees. I asked God on a regular basis why He made me so weird and different. I didn’t like myself…and I was sure no one else did. As a teenager, I found myself grabbing hold of anything I felt I was good at. The only thing I saw as my strength was basketball. I spent hours standing in the driveway, shooting jump shots over and over and over, telling myself I was good, that I mattered. I was sure no one liked me. I developed major confidence issues. Unfortunately, because I was talkative and funny, no one realized that I was hiding the fact that I thought they all hated me. I was accused of being cocky and proud, which only added to my feelings of frustration and self-hatred. I didn’t know how to fit in. I didn’t know how to not be different. And I was sure everyone hated me for it. Now is the part where I tell you I am a pastor, so all of that is behind me right? Well, sorry. Not going to happen. Now I sit in meetings with my associate pastors feeling inadequate and stupid. What I feel confident about when I am alone turns to mush in my mind when it is time to share it with men that I feel are much smarter than myself. I fight fear every week that I am going to say something wrong on Sunday morning and everyone is going to leave me…because I truly believe they should. I am just waiting for the day that everyone realizes who I am. I wouldn’t follow me, so why should they? I fight depression because I don’t feel that I have the strength, brains, or abilities to follow through on the vision that God has given me. Too often I just want to stay in bed. I love life. I love people. I love Jesus. I love the thought of sharing God with the world. But I really don’t like me. Can you relate, or am I alone in these feelings? Do you feel different, inadequate, unlovable? Here’s what God has been showing me. I am not Jesus, and He is fine with that! He has made me with my own special gifts and weaknesses, so that I can bring glory to Him in a special way that no one else can! If I preach a message that someone feels was powerful and touching, I can honestly say that it wasn’t from me. Anything beneficial that comes out of my mouth is from the Holy Spirit, using me even though I am weak. If Relevant Truth Church grows and flourishes, and thousands are saved through the ministry, I can’t be responsible. I am nothing but an average man desperate for the touch of an awesome God; desperate to be used in an awesome way. Not because I deserve it, but because I don’t. I am learning to embrace the ways that I am different. I am learning to love being weird. If God can use me, He can use anybody that is available. God made me just the way I am. He made you just the way you are. It doesn’t matter who likes it or who doesn’t. As long as you are available to God, He will use you to change your world. God’s family is an army of misfits. When a bunch of misfits are focused on one Lord, and moving toward the goal of sharing Christ with this broken world, we are all the same. We are agents of love: the love of Almighty God. He loves us just the way we are. You don’t like me the way God made me. And you are….? |
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