The Games Christians Play

Last night, Merideth and I traveled to Booneville, Arkansas to sing a couple of songs at Glendale Baptist Church’s Sunday night service.

Known to almost no one there, I had been there before almost two decades ago.

It was Fall 1992, I showed up in Booneville with my acoustic guitar, a sweet mullet, a diamond stud ear ring… in my left ear of course, a pack of Nicorette in my pocket, and about 4 worship songs under my belt. This would be the first church at which I had been asked to sing besides my home church.   I was a rookie Christian and a very green worship leader.  Now that I think about it, I think I had cut off my mullet a month or two before…and it actually might have been a cross-shaped ear ring.  There was definitely Nicorette in my pocket though.

I remember clearly the day before the night of worship going to Chic-fil-a in Fort Smith with some of my new friends from Ouachita Baptist University. I was the only Freshman – the rest were upper-classman, mostly ministry majors.  I was one of the first in a group of 7-8 guys to sit down after ordering and receiving my food, but I didn’t notice that as each sat down, I was the only one eating…

until…

Thumbs went up around the table.  That’s right – thumbs!  I was clueless. What was this game?   Seven Up?

My chewing slowly subsided as I lifted my head and gazed around the table.  All thumbs up save mine.  All food wrapped up and untouched…save mine.

It turns out that this was a well-known practice with some Christians at Ouachita to see who would say the blessing. Evidently, the loser of this game, the last person to flick their thumbs up, said the prayer.  I obviously was the loser, but in the game rule book there must be a clause exempting Clueless Christians.  No one said a word to me or acknowledged the game verbally.  Someone at the table, I forget who, prayed over the meal in my stead, which included what was left of my chicken sandwich.  This exemption was a relief because I was not yet comfortable praying in front of others.  However, it did not take away the shame I felt for being clueless in my new world; for not knowing the rules.

In my immaturity, the next several months, I set my mind on learning the rules – that is, the characteristics of the Christian sub-culture in the South and at my private Christian college.  I changed my vocabulary (which was admittedly an improvement), my music, and my friends.  I attached myself to a certain political party, not because I believed strongly in its platform necessarily, but because I felt it was expected of me as a minister, a worship leader, a man of God.

I wouldn’t see the real Kellee at his core for years.

Many years later, in a counseling session after my divorce, I would look back to the “Thumbs Up” game at Chic-fil-a to pin-point the moment where I began masking the real Kellee with a person I thought my peers and mentors wanted me to be.

It was a foolish decision and a cowardly move to become someone I wasn’t to gain acceptance.  It wasn’t that the characteristics of this sub-culture were necessarily bad… I just adopted them for all the wrong reasons.  I was interested in appearing good rather than BEING good.  I didn’t allow time for authentic change to happen in my heart before I quickly changed my outer behavior.  I think this is a common mistake with new Christians or Christians who want to get their lives right.

Fast forward 18 years, 4 months.  Last night, Merideth sang at this wonderful church.  This time, the real Kellee showed up.  I’m in good company too, because Merideth is a fantastic model of living in transparency and truth.  She calls me out when I hide, and her strength is a big part of my character’s redemption.

Now, I work hard to keep OFF my mask created by attempting to gain acceptance, appear blameless, and please people.  No longer playing the games of organized religion or the Christian sub-culture, I am attempting to live the surrendered life of an authentic Believer… in the real world… with real people… letting them get to know the real me.

Christian, church-going friends, please forgive me when I’m a little rough around the edges, but that’s me.  Certainly call me out when I cross lines I shouldn’t, but expect me to be transparent and truthful.  I won’t be playing many games of the Christian sub-culture nor will I listen to a lot of what is termed “Christian music”.  I am down for some Apples to Apples and Robbie Seay Band any day of the week though.

Other friends who might not frequent church often, please forgive me when I am a little excited about my faith in Christ and the REAL Gospel of Grace…that’s me too.  Please look past the games that Christians play and try out an authentic church – one that isn’t primarily interested in behavior modification…

I know of a great one in the Little Rock area.

My Bucket List

I am positive this list will change as I age past my 30′s as many of these are my goals for the next 5-10 years.  Also, I don’t know what life really looks like as a middle-aged man.  Hopefully I will grow in wisdom and become less selfish!  However, for whatever it’s worth, here are the top 10 things that I would love to happen before I kick the bucket!

MY BUCKET LIST:
1.  Masters & Licensed in Counseling
2. Backpack Europe
3. Ride a motorcycle to Alaska
4. Learn to Sail
5. Live for a short season in New York City
6. Write a book
7. Write and record a children’s music album
8. Invest in a few guys so much it changes their lives forever
9. Have Great-Great Grandchildren
10. Attend my 50th wedding anniversary with Mer

I Love My Story

Well that is not entirely true. The title should be, “Gosh, I Am Trying Really Hard To Love My Painful Story” and then I should add a slanted smiley “:-/”.

I just finished a book that has been in my life for over 6 months, that I have been taking in small bite-sized portions. It’s Dan Allender’s, To Be Told. It is all about learning to love your story… And not the highlight reel version, you know, where you do everything right and score the winning touchdown for the Homecoming game. Or in Evangelical Christian terms, you get saved, baptized, and live a model life committing no MAJOR sins. Allender’s view is that we can love and tell our story even if it contains abuse, failures, or tragedies.

Maybe some people have stories that are only full of victories, peace, and shining moments; not me. Mine contains a variety of failures from small seemingly minor incidences to huge blundering missteps that have altered my course dramatically and at the core of me, made me ashamed to acknowledge they even occurred. Even now it is difficult to type those words – to admit my story is filled with shame and failure.

Now, I have victories too. There have been shining moments where I did the right thing, helped someone in need, and made a meaningful difference in someone’s life. However, I no longer have the luxury of hiding behind a highlight reel version of my story.  I must tell the truth, the whole truth…the good, the bad, and the ugly.

My perspective of the acceptable “Christian” life has been: DO RIGHT. And if you slip up and do wrong, get your life RIGHT so you don’t DO wrong again! I have spent a lot of my adult life in full-time ministry trying to shake off my wrong and get more right. The problem here is that many Christians like myself don’t really shake off the wrong. We ignore it; we sweep it under the rug; we stuff it deep inside us; we hide it; or we give up completely on the impossible task of DOING right and just live a worldly life.

I have been a master of all of those methods in my tenure thus far as a Believer. Thankfully, my ugly was exposed and over the past few years I
have actually been digging into my story instead of ignoring it. I, now, am growing to love my story – the good, bad, and ugly. You see, I can rest in the Gospel Truth that I am only made RIGHT through grace.

That was my eureka moment! Wow! The Gospel is for Believers too! I always thought it was for non-Christians and once you accept the gospel, you are saved and bluebirds follow you around singing while the pain of your past magically disappears. Well, grace and mercy are abundant in my story. So, now, my story has become His story- His good news of a changed heart. That is how I am growing to love it. I am the Prodigal Son, I am Peter, I am Gomer, and the woman at the well.

But in order to continue to be truly changed at my core, I have to keep telling my story. I am no longer interested in DOING right. I long to BE right. To live an abundant life of surrender, courage and love with the purpose of helping others along the way instead of merely attempting to follow principles of behavior modification. My story shows that I’m terrible at modifying my own behavior anyway.  I think it is about surrender, and quite frankly, I am not too great at it.  I am getting better though.

My call is to minister to others through my pain and failures – to give my story (His story) away. This is a task with which I am not comfortable nor eloquently prepared. It goes against conventional ministry methodology in which I was raised, and I am positive that there will be some that will use my vulnerability against me in order to feel more powerful. My story is not for them.  I will tell it to anyone who can be helped by it, those who has failed, fallen or felt the shame of their past.

I encourage you to listen and dig into your own story, the good, bad, and ugly, these intertwine to become His Story of Redemption and Grace.

Kellee J McCoy

Putting Down Roots

Those who have been around me the past 3 or 4 years know that I have been tossed around by the wind and waves of life, that I’ve chosen paths of self-sabotage, and that I have used many things to medicate my pain.  The truth is ever since I blew up my life in 2006, I have been a free agent, floating around, afraid to put down anchors in life.

Many of my mentors and friends fled the scene in early 2007, and I don’t blame them – the carnage was unbearable at times.  However, there were a few that stayed with me.  One let me live in his basement and is today one of my very best friends; another took my calls at the most inconvenient times when I quite literally had no desire to live and told me over and over that my life was not over; and there was my friend Dennis.

Dennis, who I hope got to keep his awesome cackle laugh when he went to Heaven earlier this year, gave me some great advice the last time we went to lunch together.

Dennis rarely told me TO or NOT TO DO something.  He instead would ask questions, tell stories, laugh a lot, and in that process would give me more than advice…he extended grace to me.  I think that since Dennis knew he was going to die – even given a time line, his senses were heightened to what was most important in life…and that was and is extending the GRACE of God to people.  He became a pro at it his last two years of life.  He had a way of seeing through all of the things I was focusing on that didn’t truly matter and point me to the things that did.

Sitting across the table from him at lunch that day, after he gave a book to the server with whom he had evidently built a friendship, the conversation turned to my decision to move to Florida with my job.  Now, many people in my life had very strong opinions about this move.   My family wanted me near them in Maryland; Birmingham friends strongly advised to stay there; my sweet boys had a house picked out just for me down the street from them in Texas.  Arkansas was on the radar as well.  I was not only floating, I was being tugged in all directions, literally, by people who I love and trust.

Well, if Dennis had an opinion, he didn’t share it.

He simply said, “Kellee wherever you go… settle, get a church home, and put down roots”.

Since that conversation, God has brought me and Merideth together.  Merideth is a fascinating creature, and I have not met anyone more kind and sincere than she.  Merideth is good for me and I am good for her.  She laughs at me when I get over-emotional; she’s steady when I’m moody; she accepts me even though I have made terrible mistakes; she has walked through and survived her greatest nightmare; and most pertinent to this blog, she is really good at living OUTLOUD in community.

While our story is very romantic and sweet – she being a high school/college sweetheart and all, Merideth and I have our own personal issues for sure.  I am a runner and a hider.  Mer is working on being Codependent No More (I got her permission to say that, by the way).  We name our issues daily.  We laugh at them, cry over them, and get counsel about them.

I bring that up because one of the main reasons I floated for so long was because I was afraid to be known.  I am learning that living outloud in community has been the key to me following Dennis’ advice.  I had to be willing to be known – the good, the bad, the ugly.  It still makes me nervous – even to write this blog entry.  I still have the temptation to hide.  I am a work in progress, but I will not allow that fact to scare me into flight again.

I am thankful for the mentors that stuck with me through some turbulent years.  I can’t imagine how they kept answering my phone calls.  For my family, who always offered their homes to me.  I’m thankful for my new church who is allowing me to lead worship the 21st and 28th of November – this is such a big deal to me.  For Merideth who is showing me how to have the courage to live outloud, and who checked YES when I asked her to marry me.  And for Dennis who bought my lunch that day, extended grace and gave me that nugget of advice.

I am settling in… I have a fantastic church home… I am putting down roots.