I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may . . . grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.  Ephesians 3:17-19

Kendrick Lamar has gained a considerable amount of acclaim ever since his album good kid, MAAD City dropped in 2012.  Personally, I don’t think there has been a better hip hop album since Outkast’s Aquemini—but I’m a nerdy white guy who lives out this scene from Office Space weekly.  As a whole, good kid, MAAD City illustrates what it’s like to grow up in Compton: its inescapable gang culture, the pressure to succumb to its violence, objectification, and drugs.  Ultimately, the album is an artistic account of a honest and angry young person being pulled between his faith and the violence of his upbringing.

His follow up album, To Pimp a Butterfly, sings a very different tune.  It’s dense, it’s complex, and nothing on it was designed to top charts.  The most unsettling song on the album is a track called “u.”   In “u,” Kendrick gives the listener a peek into the dark caverns of his heart as he exposes the negative inner dialogue which plagues his mind.

The track begins with him screaming at himself, “loving you is complicated!”  His reasoning for the complications follows . . . .

“I place blame on you still.  Place shame on you still.  Feel like you ain’t s***!” he yells at himself.    “What can I blame you for?” he asks.   “A baby inside, just a teenager, where your patience?” “Where was the influence you speak of?” “You preached in front of 100,000 but never reached her!” “You [expletive] failure—you ain’t no leader!”

He’s blaming himself for not being a bigger influence in his younger sister’s life, which he believes is one of the reasons she ended up pregnant as a young teenager.  The song continues . . . but now he’s crying.

“You the reason why mama and them leavin. No you ain’t s***, you say you love them, I know you don’t mean it. I know you’re irresponsible, selfish, in denial, can’t help it.”

The self loathing is palpable. But he is not done.

“You even Facetimed instead of a hospital visit.  B**** you thought he would recover well.  Third surgery couldn’t stop the bleeding for real. You ain’t try.”

As if missing out on his friend’s last moments before he died wasn’t enough, he takes a few more swings at himself.

“everything is your fault . . . . I know your secrets.  Don’t let me tell them to the world about that s*** you thinkin.”

Did you listen?  He blames himself for the difficulties of others, he accuses himself of not being talented enough, he challenges the authenticity of his love for his family and friends, he’s lacked charity for his community, he has no faith, he’s not a real friend, he’s a failure, he’s broken multiple relationships, he drinks too much, he has some dark secrets and inner thoughts that would ruin his reputation if exposed.  He hates himself.  It’s tragic.

This will probably be the most transparent post I’ll ever write.  The truth is, I’ve said every single one of those things to myself.

I’ve let down myself and others countless times.  I wasn’t the athlete I hoped to be. I abandoned my little sisters at certain points.  I’ve ruined tons of relationships—including one with my closest friend.  The list goes on and on; but, most significantly, I missed the last moments of my dad’s life in the hospital.  I hear Kendrick’s words ringing, “then he died . . . you [expletive] failed. You ain’t try!”

I realize this is all very dramatic and probably unique to me; but I suspect I’m not the only person who resonates with Kendrick’s inner dialogue or feels the weight of some of his words. Maybe we’re scared to admit it.  I certainly am . . . but I’ve struggled with moments of hating myself for the last 13 years. Loving myself is complicated.

If we’re honest, most of us struggle with the complicated love/hate relationship we have with ourselves.  Why is that?

I think many of us (including Kendrick) share a similar proclivity:  we all tend to look to our works to find our self worth (see Kenrick’s lyric “Am i worth it? Did i put enough work in?”; sing about me, i am dying of thirst; good kid, MAAD City). And therein lies the problem (see Ecclesiastes 1:3).

Looking to our works to find our self-worth will invariably lead to self-doubt and self-condemnation.

But, there’s another way:  It’s called Grace.

In the New Testament letters, Paul obliterates the crushing weight of works based self-salvation by sharing the beautiful gift of the gospel. (Ephesians 2:8-9).  He wrote that all of our toil and work to get what our heart  desperately wants has already been accomplished—and no one can contribute to it.

Before diving deeper into this doctrine it may be helpful to summarize every other belief system in the world. All religions, philosophies, or “ways of life” are trying to reach at something;  whether that be enlightenment, happiness, salvation, nirvana, good karma, etc.

To illustrate: everyone places this “something” at the top of a ladder.  The steps of this ladder are our virtues, our accomplishments, our beauty (our “works“).  If we live up to these works we move up the ladder.  If we don’t . . . we end up in our own personal hell.  See Kendrick’s words from “u” above.

Paul’s teaching, however, is radically different. He tells us the something we’re looking for comes not from perfectly climbing each step of our metaphorical ladder, but as a gift from God.  We are saved through what Jesus does and is, not by what we do or are.

Jesus is the ladder.   That is the Gospel.

The freedom the Gospel brings to us is that while we’re all sinful and sinning, in Christ we are accepted and righteous in God’s sight.  In Him we already have the love, the applause, the acceptance, and the delight of God.  No other religion offers such a thing.

We’re not loved because we’re useful, virtuous, successful, or attractive. We’re loved simply because He loves us unconditionally.  This is the only kind of love that will ever make us secure because it is the only kind of love we cannot possibly lose.

And when you give a person unconditional love . . . they blossom.  

Back to Kendrick.

The obvious companion to “u” on Kendrick’s album is a song entitled “i.”  But “I” is a complete contrast:  it’s an anthem full of self-love.  Kendrick sings joyfully:

“I done been through a whole lot. Trial, tribulation, but I know God . . . when you looking at me, tell me what do you see? I love myself!”

Kendrick is probably not a staple for rock-solid theology; but, for a moment, I think he gets it.  He knows God.  He knows what God sees when He looks at him.  He lets go of the self-condemnation. He is now free to love himself.  Loving himself is no longer complicated.  Now watch him blossom.

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If you feel like a failure, in any way, a god at the top of the ladder will break you. Believing that the love we are all desperately searching for is based on our looks, accomplishments, or behavior puts us on an endless treadmill of guilt and insecurity.   But, we have a God who is the ladder; who took on our ugliness and failures so that when we believe in Him, His beauty and accomplishments and righteousness are credited to us.

So, my hope for all of us is that we can cling to this truth:

We are more loved and accepted in Christ than we ever dared hope.  Although we still fail, we don’t despair because He is our righteousness.  In that righteousness we have no sin, no fear, no guilty conscience, and no fear of death.  We are “holy in his sight, without blemish and free from accusation.” (Col. 1:22).

Therefore, let us sing the old hymn: “well may the accuser roar of the sins that I have done. I know them all and thousands more.  Jehovah knoweth none”

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FOR A SEARCHING SOUL

Paul was a hostile opponent and persecutor of the church.  He had a reputation that induced fear in the hearts of Christians (Acts 9:13,26; cf. 26:11).  He was even a witness and consented to the execution of the first Christian martyr, Stephen (Acts 7:58; 9:1).   He beat Christians, imprisoned them, and had many put to death.  In his own words he wrote, “beyond measure I persecuted the church of God, and made havoc of it” (Galatians 1:13).  However, his ambition to exterminate Christianity from the face of the earth radically changed.  He ended up writing most of the New Testament—a collection of letters all pointing to the person of Jesus.  As a result of his new found passion for Jesus he was tortured and eventually killed.  So, it begs the question: Why would he suffer so intensely and face persecution daily for a dead man?  What caused it? 

There is no reasonable explanation for the radical turnaround of Paul other than the fact that Paul must have actually seen the resurrected Jesus on the Damascus road.