God Desires You, Not Your Performance

by Eric Elkin

“Yet even now, says the Lord,
    return to me with all your hearts,
        with fasting, with weeping, and with sorrow;
tear your hearts
        and not your clothing.
    Return to the Lord your God,
        for God is merciful and compassionate,
        very patient, full of faithful love,
            and ready to forgive.”

— Joel 2: 12-13

An adaptation from my Ash Wednesday sermon:

These words from Joel speak to the core of my being. My heart is pulled into a place of hope, comfort, peace, and love when I hear them. They soothe the fears that once ruled my heart as a hyperactive who spent years being scolded for behavior I could not control. The shadow of those fears remains even as my hair turns grey and departs from my scalp. The Prophet Joel reminds me God does not want my performance but my heart.

When these words are spoken aloud, like we did last night, they feel like an invitation to be held in a loving embrace. These are not words spoken at a Thanksgiving table. They are not words of gratitude. They are not Christmas words, nor are they Valentine’s Day sentiments, but they could be, depending on the context. The Prophet Joel is inviting wounded people to come home and be reconciled. Come home and be reconciled! The one whom you fear is not angry. The Almighty is full of love, compassion, mercy, and patience.

These are also dangerous words abused by preachers throughout generations. Abused by pastors who seek to have dominion over others by playing on the fears of sin. Providing simple (yet impossible) solutions to peoples’ anxieties over a world gone wrong. A world they feel they can no longer understand. They want to shine a light on a God who will punish you if you don’t get right with the Lord.

Most people, inside and outside the church, operate on this principle — God punishes those who are bad. This angry God will “freely” forgive those who stop being bad, but you must stop the bad actions. God is good to those who “get right with the Lord.” Are you saved? Are you on the narrow path? Have you confessed? Have you repented, truly repented?

“Condemnation feels good and it is now a staple of religion, politics, and the media (both left and right), but it changes nothing. Compassion, on the other hand, changes everything.”

— Robin Meyers

Last night, I was remembering a story that defined my understanding of God’s love. I went back to the mid-1990s when the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America first started talking substantively about faith, human sexuality, and human relationships. Leaders produced a statement that triggered much conversation. Of course, homosexuality was the most discussed point in the report.

Shortly after its release, I went home to visit my parents. Talk of the report was all the rage in local churches. I remember standing in our driveway with my father, and he turned to me and said, “I don’t know what we would have done if you had been gay.”

Without even pausing, I replied, “You would have loved me. If you would not have loved me, then you never loved me. Our entire relationship would have built upon my ability to perform for you. And that is not love.” My father responded, “Wow, that’s harsh!” I did not answer; I just let my words linger. But in my head, I was thinking, “Harsh? Harsher, rather than you telling me you wouldn’t love me if I weren’t who you thought I should be?”

Where did I get this understanding of love? I got it from the Prophet Joel. In Joel’s world, people tore their clothing as a sign of repentance. It was a performance for all to see. But God does not want performance; God desires your heart. In the ancient Jewish world, the heart was the center of your physical, emotional, and intellectual life. God is asking for your entire being, all of you — good and bad. To judge? No, to receive into a loving embrace. Love is love, and it is not based on performance.

On Ash Wednesday, we mark our heads with crosses. There is an inclination to associate this with tearing our clothes. Some will see it as an outward sign of our doing good. It should be understood as a tearing of our hearts. To embrace our origin with our mortality so that we connect God’s love with our being.

Click to read Joel 2:1-2, 12-17

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