Eminem Helped Save Me. No, Really.

If you had told me a couple of years ago that I'd be in my car on the way to work belting out a praise song at the top of my lungs, I'd have politely inquired whether you might like to follow me to the padded walls and straight jackets. If you had told me that I'd listen to one of those followed by Bone Thugs & Harmony (which I did this morning), I might have taken you a little more seriously.

My taste in music has always been eclectic. In college, I had a playlist that featured "Closer to Fine" by The Indigo Girls, followed by "Party Up" by DMX. And it only got weirder from there. Now, as a child of Christ, I still listen to a very wide variety of music. I don't sing the curse words (it's good practice for being around my almost 2 year old who repeats everything anyway), and there are a few songs I don't quite love anymore. I know that a lot of people see born-again Christians and imagine that all of their pre-set stations are set to 95.5 The Fish (or the regional equivalent). I thought that, too. Knowing now that this isn't the case, I thought I'd let someone who has greatly influenced my current musical tastes - 17 year old me - help me out with this post.

This particular story starts with a couple of uncomfortable facts about me. I suffer from depression and anxiety, and have for most of my life. I'd like to tell you that with God, there will never be sickness. Never be struggles. Never be sadness. But that's not the case - we are given challenges in life - all of us. Clearly, God is my rock through all of this. But I still see a psychiatric professional, and I am on medication. The second fact is that when I was in my teens, one of the ways I coped with these overwhelming feelings was by cutting. (Oddly enough, I never even thought to do such a thing until I watched the episode of 7th Heaven where Lucy's friend does it, and they get her help because it's obviously unhealthy. Talk about missing the message. And no, I don't in any way blame the show for that - 17 year olds are pretty inherently dumb sometimes.)

I stopped at the same age I started - 17. And one of the pillars of the foundation to make me strong enough to do so was an unlikely source - Marshall Mathers, AKA Eminem. Eminem - a brilliant man, whose violent lyrics have been blamed for an insane range of crimes and disturbing behaviors (really - Google "Eminem blamed for violence" and see how many results you get). The theory goes that people listen to angry, violent music, and it makes them angry and violent. For me, it was the opposite. I listened to angry music because I was angry. Angry about being depressed and not knowing what was wrong with me, angry about the way I was treated by certain people at school (as a side note, I have no issues with these people - I don't hold people accountable now for being jerks as teenagers - see above, re: 17 year olds are dumb), and angry about life in general. And I had no idea how to deal with it.

I didn't have God then - I broke with the Catholic church when I was 15. I knew God well enough to say "hi" to in the hallways, but not to have a conversation. I didn't trust anyone enough to really talk in depth about what was going on. Writing my feelings made me angrier - seeing these injustices in print just made them more real. And my hobby was reading - nothing physical that might have helped me get those feelings out. So I bought "The Eminem Show" and listened to it on loop. And what I found was this: I may not have known how to get my anger out, but if I let him be angry for me, I felt a catharsis. Every ticked off lyric siphoned off some of my stress and anxiety. I quit cutting. I started seeing a psychiatrist. His music got me to a point where I was ok enough to ask for and get the help that I needed. And that snowballed into a whole host of help that led me to where I am today.

Now, was that the ideal way to deal with anger? Probably not. Are his lyrics something I'd want my daughter listening to? Probably not. And hopefully she won't need to. But I firmly believe in acknowledging those who help bring you to a place of healing, and he was one of them. I try to look for the good in everyone - regardless of public opinion. And the thing is, I usually find it. Sometimes hope is found in the most unlikely places.

Confessions of a Hateless Christian

In the wake of the recent SCOTUS ruling on gay marriage, I was incredibly disappointed by the number of extremely hateful comments I was seeing from fellow Christians. These individuals were not decrying homosexuality as a sin – they were commenting that gay people should die. That God hates “fags” (I cringe even typing that word).

What disappointed me just as much were the comments that would follow, from people stating that all Christians are hateful. That we are judgmental, and superior, and don’t follow the teachings of Christ to love our neighbors and our enemies.

When I tried to defend myself and those Christians in my life who are not that way, I was told that it’s just as much my fault (and the fault of those like me) for not speaking up and trying to show what Christianity is really about. That I am letting it happen.

What everyone forgets is a point that I made in this article, which is that “crazy shouts, sanity whispers.” The vocal minority often overwhelms the quiet patience of the majority on both sides. But here’s the thing – even if I were shouting my message of love from the rooftop of my office building, that’s not going to capture the attention of the country or the media. The Westboro Baptist Church picketing the funerals of those they deem sinners makes for great news. A woman buying a homeless man juice and a muffin and sitting to ask about his life for 20 minutes on her way out of work does not. A pastor preaching that you should give your gay children to Satan and cast them out of your home is fantastic click-bait. A man praying for the drunk driver who killed his wife and child isn’t.

Despite that, here I am. This is me yelling at the top of my lungs that I don’t hate you. Either of you. Not the fanatic who decries everyone else’s sins as unforgivable (often while excusing their own), and not the people committing whatever those sins may be.

I wasn’t always that way. I was raised Catholic, but I broke with the church at 15. A number of factors including my sister’s baptism, a lost job, becoming a mother, and a wonderful group of women brought me to my current church, where I was baptized in the spring. Prior to that “come to Christ” moment, as some call it, I thought Christians were superior and judgmental for the most part. And I hated certain people – abusers, addicts – those whose sins I deemed unforgivable.

But something happens when you come to Christ. There’s a misconception that being “saved” means you are somehow above others. That you are better. Nothing could be further from the truth. To be saved, you first have to admit that you are a sinner. That you are not better than anyone. That you cannot, to paraphrase, examine the speck in your neighbor’s eye before you take the log out of your own. It’s the most humbling experience I’ve ever had in my life. And when you truly believe that, and truly believe Jesus’ sacrifice and resurrection, you also realize that He died for all of our sins. Not just mine. Not just the ones I think of as “minor”. Whether you overeat, play flash games when you’re supposed to be working, drink until you pass out every night, neglect your children, or do something I deem unconscionable (rape, murder, and molestation come to mind), we are taught that Jesus died for all of it. I can certainly understand struggling with that – it’s very difficult to separate the person from the act. I still have A LOT of trouble sometimes.

But beyond that, Jesus didn’t just hang out with his apostles and religious leaders. He sat with lepers, prayed with sinners, and even saved a woman about to be stoned to death for her sins. He associated with those society deemed to be the worst of the worst. I think this writer said it better than I ever could: “He didn’t stand on the shore and yell across the water that Peter better follow or he’d be going to Hell. He invited him into a relationship and offered him a role in the story.” I’m not going to lie – the thought of Jesus acting like that actually made me laugh it was so ridiculous.

And that’s the point – how on earth can we ever share God’s love with those who need it if we’re too busy throwing stones at them? No one has ever come around to another’s point of view by that person shouting at them and calling them names. And you can’t look someone in the eye and share the gospel if you’re looking down your nose at them. Why would they want to be a part of something that, as far as they can see, makes you cruel to others? As a Christian, I hope to be an example. I don’t know that I’ll ever be as good of an example as I’d like. I don’t exercise like I should, I’m on my phone too much, I’ve said unkind things about others, and I sometimes let my pride get the best of me. Let’s not forget that I actually like the music of Creed and have owned three of their albums since high school. But I want my faith, and my imperfect life, to be a beacon of light to others. I want them to look at me, to see the love and joy that I’m receiving and sharing, and want that for themselves.

And you know what? If you see that and don’t come to Christ, I won’t love you any less. I won’t stop showing you kindness. I won’t think for one second that I’m any better than you are. I won’t call you names; I won’t cast you aside as hopeless. I will laugh with you, share meals with you, and spend time with you. I will love you. Because I can’t imagine what it’s like to walk around with a heart full of hate. What a pointless, needless burden.

All I ask of you right now is this: help me shout. Help me drown out the anger. Share this piece, write your own, or just talk to someone. But don’t stay silent. Don’t let the word “Christian” become synonymous with “hate”. Because that’s not what it’s all about.