I'm a bit irritated. Our experience of Christmas is filtered by life-long indoctrination from mass media. This is a season of pink fluffy clouds, tinkling bells, feel-good food, and joyful reunions all deliciously spiced by a sprinkle of spiritual experiences -- theoretically! So why, when I peel away the layers do I seem to see an evil eye staring back at me? This week I've had a lot of "you should ..." thrown at me. Many of these are the syrupy confection that one comes to expect at this time. Some are a little more subversive and want to push me into mysticism: "find the magic, you can make it your own." Let me make one point forcefully: The mystery of Christmas is not mysticism! Mystery is a reality which I can't or have yet to fully comprehend because it is too complex, too big, of too infinite for little finite me. Mysticism looks to a nebulous fantasy and says "I can take hold of that", but in reality it is nothing more than an unrealized hoping that it will be true. And so the mysticism ultimately disappoints and leads to misery, while mystery beckons us on to deeper joy. We are reealy bad at separating these, so good at conflating them. During Christmas these self-made realities are more than ever apparent; we receive and dispense them with glee. Ranging from the direct negative of "Don't preach your philosophy at me, I have my faith", to the more subtle seeming encouragement of "Jesus said to treat other people the way we want to be treated, and that's my Religion." Ok, so everyone entitled to their opinion, and it's also everyone's responsibility to formulate an opinion. But do they (we/me?) not see the contradictions of these such unthinking fluff. Faith in what I have decided? That's faith in me! I know how broken I am, and I'd be (should be) terrified to have faith in me. Treating others as you would want to be treated? Come on, please think that through! I might be someone who's into sado-masochistic behavior, and now I must treat everyone as if they want that too? The problem is, these sentiments are commonly made in isolation - twitter, facebook and instagram do little to help. But these sentiments should not stand in isolation -- they only have real meaning when there is a defining reference. Just because I feel comfortable with something, or I desire something, does not make it right. "Tolerate everything but intolerance" opens the door to every individual's deepest deviancy. As a Christian I believe that there are externally defined absolutes ... right and wrong if you like, that are there because they define what is pleasing or abhorrent to the definer: God. Thus, I suspect one reason atheism, agnosticism and mysticism are so appealing is because they allow one to self-define right and wrong; we like this because we hate having these externally established. And so, under the guise of goodwill to all men (Hah! What a joke that is!) we continue to stab and contradict and argue and rebel and shout and disparage anyone who is trying to say "the line in the sand is here." But the line is in the sand somewhere! Three points:
So then, what happens when two people, purportedly of the same faith, disagree on the where the line is in the sand? (I took a first stab at this question here) Because we see this deep seated problem in Christianity with same sex relationships, with "all roads lead to God", with mysticism, with "justified" war, feminism, expectations of charity, rules of behavior, salvation through baptism, predestination, 6-day creationism versus evolution. But may I just say just this little bit of orthodoxy: As a Christian you and I profess that the line in the sand is defined by a person. This person is the definition of right and wrong. We know where the line in the sand is by knowing this person. And this Christmas we celebrate (supposedly) the expression of this person's infinity into our finiteness. As I know my spouse, so I know what pleases, and that's how I know the right and wrong in my marriage. And if my desire in my marriage is to love the other, then I know where the line in the sand is (and for your reference, playfully tossing into the pool is on the other side of my marriage's line!). So it is that as I know Jesus, I know what pleases him. The so-called rules are merely expressions of who he is, they do not define who he is. Now: how will you decide where to stand on same-sex relationships, poverty, giving, all roads lead to God, heaven and hell, charity, tax evasion, greed, ... Any and all of these issues have an answer that will please or displease Jesus. Know him to know. I don't often cross-post material from other blogs ... as the side bar says, this blog is therapy for my hubris. However, earlier today I was recounting my experience following my mothers violent death. The most memorable and helpful moment was a 20 minute phone call from the other side of the world, from an atheist friend: he listened. So when I read this story linked below, I felt I needed to put it up here and asks the questions: - for whom am I a listener? - who is my listener? Read more: Power of listening After my slightly mischievous prior post, let me balance that now with this perspective.
Going to church on Christmas can be stressful ... especially if you're not a regular attender at a church. The building can be daunting, the routine is unfamiliar, and there's all these people who want to greet you with big smiles and firm handshakes ... it's all enough to make you suspicious. Add to that the fact that it's a time out of a day when you're supposed to be having this great big family celebration, and the kids are moaning, it's hot, and you're stressing about that unattended dinner in the oven ... it's not surprising people start wondering why all this fuss. Well, let me say "welcome", and be assured that there's no subversive tactic going on. The regulars you meet are all here for another reason ... we're simply are remembering where their life as a Christian actually comes from. And so all I'd like to say is, look past our strange rituals and know we're here for a person, not an institution. Above all, have fun, because this is a celebration! Welcome. It's about that time when we see the influx of the "twice-a-year". You know them ... maybe you're one of them. Christmas and Easter, they pop in through the door to get their magical fix. One wonders, why bother? For the unfamiliar, coming to church is a great recipe for family fights, uncomfortably clothes, fretting about the unattended dinner in the oven, and general stress and tension on a day of celebration. All for that annual fix so we can say "OK, I faced my guilt, did my thing, now I'm ok". Those of us who are a bit more regular will greet you (perhaps) and say "Welcome", shake your hand, and try to put on a show we think you expect. At the end, we'll share some over-stewed tea and cheap biscuits (cookies for those who are Americans). Are we collectively suicidal? Do we really understand that we're walking into the lion's den when we dare to stand in the face of a universal absolute? Bizarrely we do it any way, but we come prepared with the armor of a self-tailored belief that has just enough similarities to make us think its the real thing. The hound of heaven is waiting, is chasing, is right behind. I fled Him down the nights and down the days I fled Him down the arches of the years I fled Him down the labyrinthine ways Of my own mind ... For though I knew His love who followe'd, Yet was I sore adread, lest having Him, I should have nought beside. [Francis Thompson] These are the days when we tread dangerously; we are close to hearing his feet, seeing his shadow, and feeling his breath. In fear we should be, as we stand in the presence of his story. For what might we lose? Only all we have, all we are, down to our very being. Our fear is that hound of heaven threatens all we hold dear. To stand our ground requires instead that we open our eyes to what we really have, to what we can say is actually ours, and realize that in its finality we have nothing of permanence. Only then we can see the gift the hound of heaven brings. Bear with me, I'll get to the topic. Who on earth was CS Lewis ... really? I watched the BBC TV special on Lewis … did you know that CS Lewis, Aldous Huxley, and J.F. Kennedy all died within 24 hours of each other? Who was the greatest of these three? Is that even a fair question? Probably not. In any case, of these - the Christian, pantheist, and humanist - I suggest that the thinking of Lewis was by far the closest to Truth. Does that make him the "greatest"? Probably not, but it perhaps puts him in the best position to deal with reality. Here was a man who has influenced generations around the world. Like millions of others, I have been deeply changed by reading Lewis; for it is to the degree we allow a text to read our inner self that we allow ourselves to be changed. In Lewis I found a man I could relate to. In my childhood I was drawn by the parallels (at least as I saw them) between Lewis' formative years and my own. His childhood school years were a living hell, mine were a misery. He retreated into imagination, so did I. His father was distant, so was mine. It's likely that I grossly over-interpret the meaning of these things, but at the time it gave me much needed perspective. And so over the years I gratefully built him up as a man of greatness … for “great” he was, if we measure greatness by influence. (Of course, against the standard of God-perfection we're all tiny bumps of indiscernible difference.) So when the BBC narrator spoke of how Lewis' father sending him to that horrid boarding school was a “big mistake”, I reacted negatively. Really, a big mistake? I suspect that if Lewis had experienced a “normal” childhood of easy friends and fun, then we might have lost one of the most important moral forces of the last century. I like to think that Lewis knew this, and was thankful. For myself I wouldn't trade my early years for anything - I am what I am in large part because of those years, and I like what I am (mostly). I would not be what I am without those formative experiences. Of course there are regrets, there always are. But these are regrets over what I did, not of what the world did to me. The gaps I now feel in my life have little relation to past struggles. My deepest desires are not for what this world can deliver. What I really long for is something that is hard to put words to, a sense and a frustration that I was meant for a reality that is more real. It sometimes leaves me feeling almost alone in a crowd because there's a mystery I want to delve into, and few others seem to share this desire. I find people without a such a thirst to be, quite frankly, boring people. But it is the miseries of childhood years that fostered this yearning; I glimpsed through them a bigger reality. I fear that if I had received a "normal" childhood, this would have skillfully played to my less desirable characteristics; those more dangerous attributes that I constantly flirted with. Without the proper checks and balances of experiences I suspect I would have become a deceitful, philandering pig with a temper and arrogance to match. So for my childhood pains (and all experiences) I (try to) give thanks; I would be the lesser for not knowing them. Through them I was molded and formed, and found some measure of wisdom because of these. For that, I am (literally) eternally grateful. A consequence of struggles is that it helps me see that not everything exists in black and white absolutes, but rather that they present a series of choices. Each choice inexorably applies a pressure to the rudder of my soul. Those moments of my misery were really the grace of course-correction opportunities, steering me away from the cliffs of self-implosion. This was rough ground that I had to traverse so that I would glimpse a fuller reality and learn to thirst for real desire. That is, the desire to walk eagerly toward that final small step into eternity. Drawing on Lewis' imagery, on that final day I believe I will look back in thanks, and will see each moment of past trials through one of two lenses. If I choose wisely, then in each moment I'll see the early emergence of a future beauty. If I stray, my past will be a series of slips and slides to an opposing reality, prescient of a final loss. It all depends on the accumulation of my momentary choices. So those times when I was gripped by uncontrolled childish anger will instead be filtered as lessons on righteous indignation against injustices, or else they will be the tip of a looming iceberg of rebellion. That argumentative spirit which once distressed my parents will be a seed of wisdom tunneling into a reasoning light, exposing the dark corners of my soul. Or else, it will be an enormous pride reveling in momentary power of rhetoric that tries to draw others down my path of delusion. Such it seems to have been with Lewis; he was truly human with many failings, as I am. He took the experiences the world handed him, and allowed them to illuminate truths that stood independent of his frail human shell, yet he was blessed to see and speak them. Truths that are as hard as diamond and not in any way dependent on the person that tries to carry them. Like Chesterton, we can each discover a new land, only then to find it has been known to others all along. We all make our journeys of exploration through daily experiences, entering new lands where we can choose to uncover treasures of wisdom that all along have been buried in our own back yard. All that is asked is for us to exercise our creative talents, in whatever form we have been gifted, to express truth. So that like fireflies in a dark field a few other souls may be drawn to what we've discovered. Yet in the dark many will still run from our glimmers, and will cover their eyes to protect their tiny worlds. So I give thanks for the troubles; I make no claims to be Lewis (nor would I want to be). But by his dark years he became one who helped me see truths that I would otherwise have missed. I have no ownership of these truths, but I too can discover them, and communicate them. Many times I have stood behind a dirty window that obscured. But the rain of experience can be a great window cleaner. So I come full circle. Why be thankful for moments of trouble? Because, if we let them, then like a rag they scrape away some of the dirt on the window into our lives. Some light can then enter to disturb our zone of false comfort, revealing to us an incorruptible and absolute solidity that we desperately need in a world awash with relativism. Its not easy. Many times we cannot see where, how, or when there could ever be even a vague silver lining. But the joy of discovery was never found without a journey. Every experience, if we allow it, will be used to make us brighter, better, and more solid, more real. Lewis, and many others helped me learn the patience and trust I needed to know that the "now" is infinitely tiny against the landscape of forever. "When I understand that everything happening to me is to make me more Christlike, it resolves a great deal of anxiety" [AW Tozer] |
Why?
Probably the best therapy is to express yourself. Why do you think psychiatrists make you lie on the couch and talk, while all they do is murmur "hmmm", "uhuh", or "go on"? Archives
May 2017
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