A couple months ago, we made a grave parenting mistake: we let our toddler watch Disney's Encanto.
And basically we haven’t watched or listened to anything else since that fateful day.
It's not all bad though – Encanto has some great songs and characters. The plot is somewhat tedious, but what you need to know right now is that main character, Mirabel, is the only member of her magical extended family who didn’t receive a ‘gift.’ (I’m just realizing that it may have pertinent to write an essay on spiritual gifts, but unfortunately, that's for another day). Mirabel has two older sisters, Isabella and Luisa. Luisa has super strength, and Isabella is the eldest and the golden child: wherever she goes, she grows beautiful, perfect flowers. Mirabel is somewhat estranged from her seemingly perfect older sister Isabella, and just can’t relate to her flawless, dreamy life.
With all the songs stripped away, Encanto is a story about a family healing their relationships and finally being honest enough to address their issues instead of pretending that things are fine. At the height of the movie, Mirabel finds out that reconciling with her sister Isabella is what will help heal their magical home. She is committed to healing her family at any cost, so she finally confronts Isabella. The older sister ends up having a very out-of-character outburst of anger that results in her spontaneously growing an imperfect flower (some kind of cactus?) – something she has never done before. Isabella then goes on to sing a haunting song that I can’t stop thinking about (and my toddler requests for the car ride every day), called ‘What Else Can I Do?”
The song is written by none other than the lyrical genius Lin Manuel-Miranda, so it’s no surprise that the song is permanently etched in my brain. But even more than that, I’ve been feeling like Isabella’s song is full of important truths that could so inspire the Church to take our faith to another level.
Isabella sings her song as a response to finding out that she could create a different (though imperfect) kind of flower after her gut-honest reaction to her little sister’s getting under her skin. She had spent her whole life holding in her true feelings and striving for perfection, afraid of not living up to the standards of her grandmother. A moment of clarity comes to Isabella when she realizes that she doesn’t have to mask what she’s really going through and lets go of the guise of perfection in front of her sister.
The lyrics of the song show her journey through this powerful moment. She sings a lyric that’s been living rent-free in my head and heart:
“I'm so sick of pretty, I want something true, don't you?”
My soul breathes out and I respond with an overwhelming and exhausted ‘YES.’
Here's where I get a little real: I am sick of pretty. I want something true.
It's true in any number of ways in many areas of my life that I’m sure you can imagine: things that are pretty on the outside but untrue at their core. Social media comes to mind. Is it the cynical millennial in me that can sniff out ‘fake’ a mile away? We’ve been so conditioned by perfect Instagram highlight reels, but I think we’re beginning to disengage from the canned ‘reality’ the Internet provides and longing for something tangible and relatable. I just want something real. Real people. Real food. Real relationships. Real messes. Real laughter. Real tears.
The list goes on, but I’m a pastor and I’ll talk about what I sometimes pretend to know, and that’s faith.
I want REAL faith.
Not tidy faith, not perfect faith.
Not faith devoid of emotion or doubt.
Not faith of platitudes and fake smiles and acting.
I want real, hard, messy faith.
I’ve just experienced another Holy Week (often called Passion Week) – the week leading up to Resurrection Sunday. During this week, we travel with Jesus (who lived most of life in quiet rural obscurity), as he unleashes his passion and emotion in incredulous ways. He is filled with a mix of sadness and joy as he rides into Jerusalem (Luke 19) and filled with anger as he drives the money changers and merchants of the Temple (Matthew 21). Jesus is extravagantly worshipped, and he's betrayed by his best friends. He explains that his “soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death” in prayer in the Garden (Matthew 26). He is full of anxiety and grief as he engages with the reality of the world. He prays often, “Father, if it is possible, take this cup from me. But not as I will, but as you will” (Matthew 26:39, 42, 44). And on the cross, as Jesus breathes His final breath, he prays the only lines he can find strength to utter from Psalm 22: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Matthew 27:46).
Depiction of Holy Week, by our church Sunday School students
We wrestle with Jesus’ honest faith, and so have theologians for many centuries. It was not tidy or perfect. It was messy, and full of passion, anger and perhaps even…doubt? We shudder at the thought. It wasn’t pretty, but it was gut-honest. Alicia Britt Chole writes, “Honesty is a friend of intimacy with God, and, conversely, denial is an enemy of intimacy with God.”
The biblical witness to this truth is at the forefront of its pages. Prayer, as we read it in the Hebrew Scriptures, is absolutely devoid of platitudes, fake faith, and denial – and it’s full of freely expressed raw emotion, lament, distress, anger, and abandonment. There is no ‘stuffing down emotions’ for the sake of honoring God. Israel complains to God, boldly questions God, wonders where God is, and argues with God in prayer. Any of the Psalms are grand evidence of this: God is not put off by your emotion; in fact, He welcomes all the dimensions of who you are to come and be known and transformed by His love.
And yet, in the church, we often encourage only smiles, celebration, and a mild ‘stuffing down’ of how we’re really feeling, because “God works all things together for good!” “We are blessed!” or my favorite, “He won’t give you any more than you can handle!” In today’s worship services, we are hard-pressed to find prayers of lament, or complaint, or protest, or doubt whatsoever. We’ve been told, (probably much to the horror of the early Christians) that ‘good Christians’ behave a certain way and don’t ask too many questions.
“I make perfect, practiced poses, So much hides behind my smile... “What could I do if I just knew it didn't need to be perfect? It just needed to be? And they'd let me be?” -Isabella, "What Else Can I Do?"
But I will go out on a limb and say this: God loves your imperfect, honest, untidy faith. He loves your prayers, whether they are angry, confused, or hurt. He hears your heart. God doesn’t need your fake smiles or your ‘Christianese’ or the platitudes you don’t really believe.
He just wants you. All of you.
It is here that I digress and go back to Isabella’s words:
“I'm so sick of pretty, I want something true, don't you?”
Church, please hear:
the world is sick of pretty.
it wants something true.
so does God.
don’t you?
When you show up for worship this Sunday, or in prayer with God, or in any of the spaces where you show up, I hope you feel safe to be honestly, truly, you. With whatever mess you're in, God is in it with you. No need to be perfect. Here's to being honest, and growing and healing in ways we never thought possible.
So much love,
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