Better Thee Than Me

I had a dream last night. It was current me at Baylor. The feeling was so great to be back, but not be fake. It made me think back to why I left Baylor in the first place. I felt like a phony. I was Action Jackson, Christian Comedian. I somehow became this character who was equal parts bible studier and laugh inducer.

I really worked hard trying to have something to say when it came time to talk about God and his book. My friends and I had lots of moments where we spent time philosophizing about the Jesus. But, you know what’s funny? I don’t really remember any of them.

The memory that stands out is having one of our Christianity discussions in our kitchen. We had a special guest that day, Mike “Porch”. He was homeless, but crashed on our porch when he needed a marginally dry place to nap.

So, picture that scene. Oh, it makes me laugh. Did you hear the one about the five 19 year old Christians in the kitchen with the homeless guy? Anyway, we were all going around talking jive, when Mike realized maybe he was supposed to share something.

He cleared his throat and led brilliantly, “Well…I don’t know if it ever made it in the Bible…” Ha…awesome…he continued, “But what about ‘Better thee than me.’”

The thing is we were trying. We wanted to do the right thing and figure things out. But, Mike had something over us…life experience. Whereas my roommates and I mostly just had words and theories, Mike had dealt with serious family shit. Maybe Vietnam. Life had kicked his ass. So he lived outside. He didn’t fit in a home.

But, what a great fucking guy. He used to get food from the food pantry and whatever they gave him that he didn’t like he’d give to me and my roommates. He paid rent for his porch space. He was proud. And he should have been. Those homeless guys created a family. They didn’t have a roof and indoor plumbing, but they had each other. They looked out for each other and looked out for us.

I think it’s great that out of all the bible studies and sermons and conversations I had at Baylor, the one quote I remember is a misquote of the Bible by Mike Porch. He was just being real. And that’s why I left Baylor. I wanted real.

There was something about Baylor that felt off to me. It wasn’t Baylor’s fault. Or the Christians fault. It was inside me. I heard people tell me I was wise when I quoted a Bible verse at the right time. And I heard people tell me I was funny when I ate the peel of a banana. But, man I felt like shit inside and there was no fixing that.

I wanted to go somewhere alone. Where people weren’t telling me I was great. I wanted to come to terms with the feeling of inadequacy that I felt all the time. Even then, I was looking for the real. And you know what ended up happening. Life kicked my ass. Just like it did to Mike.

And I felt like an outsider…like he did. So, I made my own home…like he did. And I relate to people who feel like outsiders in what is supposed to be their home…whether that’s their home growing up which was dysfunctional or their current marriage which is a train wreck or their job or their church. Man, we should never be made to feel like we’re outsiders at home. My heart breaks for people like that, because I’m like that.

I left the comfort of Baylor…my home…where I was loved and respected. But, I had to. I can see now that I couldn’t be where I am if I had continued to just go through the motions. Sometimes the wisdom of homelessness is profound. If I hadn’t been kicked out of my house when I was married, I wouldn’t have felt so hopelessly alone. I wouldn’t have gone to that strip club. I wouldn’t have met someone exactly like me…homeless. The former stripper and I related on a deep level, because we felt like outsiders. But, wait…there are other people like me? It’s okay to feel like this. God, it was great.

So, to feel like I do today and have a dream that I was back at Baylor. It was awesome. Going back to college, but with life experience under my belt. My dream was set in Collins cafeteria. I went to lunch alone. I never would have done that in school. You always made lunch dates.

But, I marched in there alone and instead of sitting in the corner by myself, I walked up to the table with three hot girls. And made friends. And had them laughing. Then I started making out with this girl I had a crush on in college. And she confessed that she liked beer. “No fucking way,” I said, “I’ve always wanted to be drunk on Baylor campus.” And we made out some more.

The feeling in the whole dream was me being comfortable with who I am. At Baylor I was so uncomfortable with me. I didn’t realize that I had more shit to work out than the Mike Porch did. I was trying to fix him and make him a Christian, but I was a bigger mess than he was.

It’s a great feeling to be in this spot now. To have gone down this narrow road, but not the narrow road the church set before me. My sister and I were talking one time about the Bible’s concept that there’s a broad road that leads to destruction, but a narrow path that leads to life. Something she read in a book made her speculate, “What if we have that backwards?”

What if the broad road is church? People so convinced that they have the answers. But, what about me and the homeless guy? There were no answers for us. We’re outsiders. You can’t be an alcoholic. You can’t be a friend of strippers.

But, my life says you can. My story says you can. People like me are unlikely to feel comfortable at church. But, the Jesus I used to read about…he hung out with those outsiders. He hung out with the fucked up, not the people who had it all together.

I talked the other day about the man I met on the train, who wouldn’t get real, but wanted me to come to his church. I told him the frustrations I had with my former church. I could tell his attitude was, “But my church is different.” Every church thinks that. But, what if none of them are?

I used to think that. My church is different. I’m different. But, ultimately it took me fucking up beyond the scope of the church to see that it wasn’t different. Being an outsider sucks. But, being an outsider led me to this path where I finally feel at home with myself. I don’t have to have home in the traditional, fake sense.

The crazy thing is. People keep messaging me. Or talking to me. Or going to lunch with me. I’m not alone. There are so many outsiders just like me who are frustrated with not feeling like they fit. Jesus makes sense to us. And grace and healing are required, because we’re fuck ups.

And what I love about all of this. I’m not witnessing or whatever Christian buzz word I used to use. I’m just telling my fucking story. I’m not an expert or an authority. The only thing I know I’m good at is fucking up. But, I’ve found that when I talk about my fuck ups, people want to talk about their’s.

And it’s the brokenhearted that Jesus healed. The people who knew they were sick. The strippers and the homeless and the recovering Chrisitians. I’m better than no one. When I was a Christian, I couldn't have said that. But, that’s why I could walk around Baylor in my dream with my head held high. I’m not a phony anymore.