The older I become, the more I appreciate people who are gut-level honest. Especially if that person is in a position of Christian leadership and unafraid of the truth as Jesus told and lived it.

That’s why I love people like Mike Yaconelli, who doesn’t hesitate to state — in writing — that not only has he disappointed God many times, but he has been disappointed BY God a few times. Knowing he was crazy in love with God, somehow makes his bold statements and rare vulnerability not only okay, but appreciated. They invite me to wrestle with my own uncertainties, without feeling like I’m committing high treason.

I realize church should be a happy place to go, but sometimes real live messages — those that reflect the totality of the Word — leave me anything but happy. I seem to remember that Jesus said I must deny myself and pick up my cross. That doesn’t make me happy. And didn’t the author of Hebrews state that the Word of God is sharper than any two edged sword? If life as a Christian is comfortable, sweet, and happy, why didn’t the Holy Spirit use a more appropriate analogy? Why didn’t he refer to the Word of God as smoother than a velvet pillow or easier on the palate than a fine merlot? He didn’t, because God’s Word is sharp. It’s a sword. It cuts and it hurts. It severs and pierces. And ultimately it’s that sharp sword that sets us free.

Why are we afraid to preach the truth? All the truth. Nothing but the truth. The so-help- me-God kind of truth? Maybe because all the truth and nothing but the truth won’t attract people to the place it’s being preached. After all, we come on Sunday mornings to feel good about ourselves, right?

But can I tell you that sometimes the truth leaves me torn in pieces and in desperate need of mercy? Sometimes it jerks me out of autopilot and wakes me from a slumbering stupor. Lately, it has most often left me wondering about the way I practice my Christianity — my love for Christ. Is it what he really wants, or is it what I know? What I’ve learned? What I’ve always done?

And what about church? Is our worship a blessing to him, or have we simply tweaked tradition and assumed it’s what he wanted back then, so that’s what we’ll give him now? It seems to me that we do church the way we do, because it’s what we’ve always known. What we’re secure with. But what if it’s been wrong all this time? What if, after we end our Sunday service with a unified, “Amen”, Jesus looks at his Father and shrugs his shoulders? God help us.

I realize my musings present more questions than answers. More confusion than comfort. But I can’t help it. I’ve decided there’s something more important than maintaining my level of comfortability. That something is Truth. Is there anyone courageous enough to preach it and anyone dead enough to live it?