Delete That: (and Other Failed Attempts to Look Good Online)

by John Crist

I was pretty bummed to find out from Lance that the paramedics quickly cut all my clothes off me—apparently, that’s standard if you’re having a seizure—so then not only was I bleeding in the street, but I was doing it naked in front of my neighbors. Yikes. Every night, I lay down to sleep and thank God for my family, for my health, and that those Ring doorbell cameras didn’t exist in 2012.

“To be loved but not known is comforting but superficial. To be known and not loved is our greatest fear. But to have both? That’s perfection.”

That night, the connection with the crowd was particularly close, and when that happens, I start to feel really comfortable and can get off track. I really riff. For whatever reason, I went off on a little bit of a slightly earnest tangent about porn and how it was a problem for me for a long time in my life. I don’t know why I started talking about it, but I think the riff was funny and honest. Maybe too honest. At the conclusion of my little rant, I tried to throw a lifeline to other people who were struggling with porn habits: “If any of you here have any questions or want to talk in person, come to the merch table after the show and I’m happy to talk to you about it.”

As you can imagine, a family of eight kids, all being homeschooled, made our house a scene of barely controlled chaos on a daily basis. My mom was in charge of waking us up every morning, feeding us, getting us all to our various basketball practices, painting classes, and piano lessons, and then on top of all that, being our schoolteacher. To say it was a lot for her is a grand understatement. After my youngest sister, Evangeline, was born, my mom was kinda maxed out. She was physically and emotionally exhausted. Looking back on it now, it’s shocking that she didn’t reach her breaking point any sooner than that.

Bo Burnham, one of my favorite comedians, has a line in one of his parody songs that says, “Come watch the skinny kid with a steadily declining mental health / And laugh as he attempts to give you what he cannot give himself.”

Aren’t we sophisticated enough as humans to understand that great art is often made by very flawed artists? It has been this way forever.

A week or so later, I told a therapist about it all, and he asked me, “What do you think Jesus would think of you being there like that, in that bar texting that woman?” I thought about it for a second. “Well, the Jesus I grew up learning about would be ashamed of me, embarrassed for me. He’d probably walk by the bar on the way to preach or care for the sick and say something like, ‘You just performed in a church, you call yourself a Christian, and you’re here at a bar, trying to entice some married woman to meet up with you? Hypocrite. I’m embarrassed of you.’ ” My therapist listened and then shook his head. “I bet if Jesus saw you there, he’d sit down right next to you. He’d say something like, ‘You think I don’t know what it feels like to be alone? All my closest friends left me to get crucified. I know loneliness. You think I don’t know what it feels like to be sad? My friend Lazarus died. I know sadness. I am here with you.’