I recently read a survey that indicated 90% of American men self identify as being “above average fitness” compared to their peers. When you do the math (and even I can do this math) it becomes these men don’t have self image problems; but they are delusional. Their problem comes, I suspect, from one of the oldest tricks in the book: confusing intention with action. They want to exercise, want to eat right, want get enough sleep, want to cut back on coffee and alcohol. They watch bow-flex commercials, drink low carb beer, and declare themselves ‘fitter than average’. Intent gets confused with action. What’s actually needed are objective measures of health; things like body mass index, resting heart rate, and the good/bad cholesterol ratio. The harsh numbers tell the truth.
There’s a similar objective assessment, in my opinion at least, in matters of spiritual health. Many of us say that we live in a world where God is able to intervene in history, and does intervene in history. He changes hearts, heals bodies, brings the triumph of the cross to bear in lives that are wracked with self-loathing and guilt, sets people free. We say God does these things, and many of us even go a step further and say that, while God is able to do whatever he wants, he sometimes partners with us mere humans, “waiting” as it were, for us to get involved in God’s activities by our doing one simple thing: asking.
We who believe this can offer a boatload of evidence that this is true: God steps into history to deliver Israel from slavery because he ‘hears their cry’. Hannah prayed for a son and God gave her one. Elijah prayed for an offering to be consumed and it was. Jesus told us that we have not because we ask not. Later he said that ‘this kind’ (speaking of a certain demonic possession) can only come out by prayer and fasting. It’s all through the Bible – God steps into history in response to prayers. We believe it – or at least we say we do.
But saying we do is like watching bowflex commercials while eating popcorn and drinking low-carb beer. The real thermometer of our belief that God steps into history actively is our prayer life. I was reminded fo this recently when some people at our church asked pastoral staff to come over to their house and pray through it because they were sensing ‘dark spirits.’ We don’t get these requests often (all right, never until now) but a team went and prayed. The family said that the effects were both immediate and dramatic.
Dramatic encounters with the forces of darkness are, in my opinion, easier that dealing with the day to day subtleties of life, because there’s so much noise telling us that we live in a purely material world, and because we’ve so many medical, and financial, and therapeutic tools at our disposal that we come to believe, practically speaking, that we can “do it on our own” in spite of what we say we believe. I mean, with a good marketing guy, a killer web site, and good sound and lights you can build a church.. right? Sadly… right.
Our prayer life, asking specific things of God, is a good indicator of the degree to which we believe God is at work in the world. We’re saturated in a materialistic culture that says, both overtly and covertly, that God isn’t active, that things just happen. We push back, maybe even pointing to the very verses I’ve quoted above.
Big deal. The real issue is this: Am I asking God to step into my world, or the world of another, to bring healing, faith, hope, provision, direction? Do I believe it when Jesus says, “apart from me you can do nothing?” Does the amount of my praying correlate to the amount of my talking about how great God is, how involved he is in history?
The house demons are gone, and I’m reminded through the event that, behind the veil of our material world, there’s a God able to intervene, and forces of darkness intent on destroying hope and life. We’ve a calling here folks, to be people of prayer. I’ve taken to writing my daily prayers in a journal, just like I do with exercise, so that I can look back and see if I’m being consistent. When there’s a gap of 13 days in the journal, I realize that I talk a good game, but have a long way to go in living what I say I believe. How about you?
The past decade could have, and perhaps should have been a time for Christians to begin learning about Islam. But that didn’t happen very much. Instead we learned about the terror tactics of ‘racial Islam’, and some of us even made the grave error of generalizing radical Islam, imputing those values to all Muslims. This is very kind of objectification that Jesus warned against when he spoke of people who ‘have eyes but don’t see’, ‘ears but don’t hear.’ It’s time to step away from our stereotypes and get educated.
One of the better tools that might help you towards that end is Mark Siljander’s book, “A Deadly Misunderstanding”. Mark shares the evolution of his own thinking on the Christian/Muslim divide with us, going all the way back to his being offended by a Muslim speaking at the National Prayer Breakfast in DC, to how his senate, and later ambassador responsibilities intersected with his Christian faith to create a crisis of questions: “How can I learn to show love to Muslims?” This first question led Mark to approach heads of state from the middle-east and North Africa as one eager to learn about the values and beliefs of Islam. He began studying languages, including Aramaic (the language Jesus spoke), bought a copy of the Koran and began reading and studying it.
The book is a blend of narrative (Mark’s own expanding web of relationships with Islamic leaders, teachers, and scholars), and theology (Mark’s ever expanding discoveries of common beliefs between Christians and Muslims). I won’t reveal those points of common interest because I think you should take the time to read the book. After all, nearly every nation in which our military is involved in conflict has a sizable Muslim presence. Conventional wisdom, even, would tell us that we should know our enemy. Jesus would tell us that we should love our enemy. Mark will tell us that when we begin to study our enemy, we realize that he might not even BE our enemy, that we perhaps share more in common, than we differ.
I was skeptical as I read the book because I found myself thinking, at each point, “Yes, we might share that in common, but what about…?” as I raised the flag of a great divide between Islam and Christianity. Then Mark would address my concern. I’d be satisfied for a few pages, and then ask again, and then again. Each time, Mark has an answer.
Mark isn’t saying there are no differences between our respective faiths. He is saying that we can find fellowship and even friendship by focusing on the ethics and teachings of Jesus and discussing them with Muslims, that this is a common ground. This work will challenge your notions of evangelism, and even the use of the word Christian, as Mark hints that Jesus didn’t come to establish a new religion at all, but rather to draw people into relationship with Himself. I disagree on this last point (Jesus is the head of a body called ‘the church’, and though the church has mucked things up over the centuries countless times, the truth is that when we’re called to Christ, we’re called into a community of faith, because Christ’s life is displayed through community). In spite of my disagreement on this point, I think Mark has made some remarkable discoveries.
He’s shared his research about common points between the two faiths with scholars of both Christianity and Islam, along with Evangelical leaders, and found an overwhelmingly positive response. I’m so intrigued with what he’s done that I’m hoping to find a way to have him visit us here in Seattle for a weekend. We’ll see what happens.
I enjoyed the book for personal reasons as well. I did a wedding in DC this past summer for some Bethany missionaries, and as Mark began sharing his story, several names of people I’d met at the wedding popped up, including the father of the bride! This makes me all the more intent on finding a way to further the discussion.
Buy the book, because you’ll want to mark it up. Don’t swallow everything without thinking, praying, and searching the Bible. But don’t reject anything simply because it doesn’t fit what you’ve heard before. The points of common ground with Muslims just might be one of the most important discoveries of the past ten years, and getting the word out, an central mission for next ten.
My wife and I were planning on see Avatar this afternoon, but when we arrived for the mid-day matinee, it was sold out. Having come all the way downtown we decided to see “The Book of Eli” instead, mainly because we both enjoy Denzel Washington. From the opening moments, the movie was phenomenal at every level: great cinematography and acting, and a story line that utterly caught us by surprise, because it is, after all, a movie about the Bible. Though we were there accidentally, it felt providential for too many reasons to share here.
The viewer is drawn into a post-apocalyptic world populated by savage survivalists. As the story unfolds, we learn that Eli is carrying the last remaining Bible on the planet with him, trying to transport it ‘west’ because he’d a vision from God directing him to do so. He’s strong, compassionate, and deeply committed to this ‘calling’. It becomes clear that the reason there’s only one known Bible is because after ‘the event’, all holy books were intentionally destroyed.
I loved this movie at many levels, but primarily because we encounter our holy text as both the glorious gift, and dangerous weapon that it is, has been, and may yet be in the future. CS Lewis hinted around once that he thought things with the greatest capacity for good were also the things that had the greatest capacity of evil. If he’s right, the Bible is surely one of the most powerful elements on the planet. Because of God’s Word, ethics of compassion, peace, love for enemies, care for the poor, and hospitality have been preserved and handed from generation to generation.
The same book has been used to sanction colonialism, genocide, slavery, and oppression. Great good; great evil, both reminding us that any of God’s gifts are open to abuse, including the Bible. The new atheists, of course, can only see this myopically, only seeing the evil and heartache that have been poured into our world with a cup of proof-texting. They point to these things as revealing the danger of religion. This movie does that, but also helps us see where history would go if there were guidance, if were all left on our own to follow our basest desires. We come to see, in Eli, the stark contrast of his life as ‘light’, set in the midst of darkened human hearts.
I won’t give the ending away, but I’ll see that I was reminded, throughout the movie, of the passage from Amos which declares that a day is coming when there will be a famine, not of food and water, but of the hearing of the Word of God. What a treasure we have! May we feast upon Christ through the gift of His Word so that, come what may, the word will live, through we who claim to follow.
The movie is rightly rated R for it’s graphic violence, but if you can sit with such violence, the redemptive message of this film is will worth it. You can get a study guide for group discussion, and movie clips here.
David Brooks excellent article about this week’s quake in Haiti is a must read. Whether you agree with his diagnosis or not, he shines a light on a problem that absolutely must be addressed: There is no formulaic relationship between $$ aid and economic development/autonomy. Haiti is the ongoing recipient of immense investments. By some estimates, they have the highest per capita ration of NGO’s (nongovernmental organizations, like World Vision) in the world. In spite of this, Haiti has remained locked in poverty, and it is this poverty that prevents the kind of infrastructure (building codes, sewage systems, access to water, hospitals, schools) from developing. What do I mean?
When things begin to shake, the underlying social and economic pathologies are revealed, and the devastation is exponentially greater than would be the case, were there adequate infrastructure present.
So why is it that infrastructure doesn’t develop? And how can we, who are opening our wallets, invest our dollars in the best way to assure that we not only triage the damage, bury the bodies, and provide acute care to those who need it now, but also begin addressing the systemic issues that have kept Haiti stuck for so long?
Brooks declares that beginning with the assumptions that all cultures and beliefs are morally equal is the height of folly. Ideas have consequences, and the tragedy of Haiti isn’t just that there’s poverty, it’s that the poverty is interwoven with deeply held beliefs and practices. Until these beliefs change, the poverty will remain. Brooks says it this way:
In this country, we first tried to tackle poverty by throwing money at it, just as we did abroad. Then we tried microcommunity efforts, just as we did abroad. But the programs that really work involve intrusive paternalism….It’s time to find self-confident local leaders who will create No Excuses countercultures in places like Haiti, surrounding people — maybe just in a neighborhood or a school — with middle-class assumptions, an achievement ethos and tough, measurable demands.
When WWII ended, the German government sent hundreds of young people who’d been raised in the ethos of the Hitler Youth movement, to Capernwray in England for moral re-education. International Needs is taking a similar strategy in Romania. This, it seems, is the path in Haiti offering the greatest light. But such a strategy swims against the popular current that eschews any challenge to another culture’s world view.
We’ll take an offering at our church on January 24th for Haiti as part of the important effort to contribute to the acute crisis of the moment. But it’s vital that all of us with means think long and hard, not about whether to invest, but about how to invest, so that our investment leads to changed lives and changed cultures, not just handouts.
I’d like to spend a few words building the case for marriage, because this institution, like all institutions (it seems) is increasingly regarded with both suspicion and cynicism by younger generations. For this reason an increasing number (of both Christ followers and the general populace) are forsaking marriage, choosing instead to simply live together.
I understand the cynicism, but disagree with conclusion. The cynicism makes sense because people are looking for something more substantive than some sort of ‘legally binding’ arrangement. If that’s all a couple has, and they stay together for propriety, or reputation, perhaps even ‘for the children’, then they enflame the notion that marriage is meaningless. After all, when a couple stands before God and their friends to make a vow, they don’t promise to live together; they promise to love each other through all the seasons life – and let me tell you, the latter is much harder than the former.
My wife and I have been married thirty years, and I don’t think I’m speaking presumptuously in declaring that we love each other deeply. We’ve built a storehouse of adventures, laughter, child-raising, and braving challenges together. Each of these marvelous moments seems to add a brick to the solidarity of our marriage, and each brick makes the notion of walking away from our commitment to love, all the more difficult.
God knows, though, there are moments when we’ve both wanted to walk away. Between us, we know all the tricks – stony silence, careless disregard, hurtful words, manipulation, a fear of truth or confrontation that leads to perhaps the worst thing of all: the pleasantness of relational death. We’ve never strayed very long into any of these arenas, falling in unwittingly, and then crawling out – but we’ve been there, and when one or the other of us is there, the grass suddenly looks greener elsewhere. After all, we’re both competent and capable individuals, right?
I’ve a feeling we’re not alone in this. But, in spite of the fact that our eyes have looked longingly at freedom once in a blue moon (ok, maybe twice), staying in the arena of working on the promises we made has always been the obvious choice. And because of this, the bricks have continued to accumulate, until we’ve now, not a wall with a marriage contract tacked on to it; but a home of love and gratitude.
There are many reasons we chose to stick with the vows, but one of them is pretty simple: We made a vow – and we made it before God, our friends, and our family. It carried a weight for us (as I both believe and teach that it should for anyone who makes it), and this weight has always been lurking in the background. But recall, as we have, that our vow wasn’t a commitment to stay together – it was a commitment to love each other. Choosing to simply stay together, without comitting to the hard work of learning to love does two things: 1) It displays our obsession with appearances and our desire to please people, both of which lead to the charges of hypocrisy in the Christian community. 2) It helps create the disillusionment that leads young adults to avoid marriage completely, opting instead for ‘authenticity’. That marriage and authenticity are thus juxtaposed reveals how wrong headed we’ve become.
The value is found in declaring a commitment to love one another. Sometimes love might call for consequences, such as temporary separation or intervention. But always, love is working for the good of the other, and the union, rather than retreating into a cage of selfishness in order to preserve one’s own fragile and wounded ego. But beneath it all, there’s a commitment to love that was public, personal, and had the effect of creating a sense of accountability
Ironically it’s that sense of accountability that is largely missing in the generation that’s must hungry for authentic intimacy. Intimacy without accountability is a mirage, and boatloads of heartache and woundedness are waiting for those who try to create it. Better to keep the accountability ingredient in the mix; and how is that done?
I welcome your thoughts.
Growing up in the church, I learned that one of the best ways to share the gospel succintly would be take hearers (eager or not, no matter) through what came to be called the “Roman Road”. In essence, this declaration of the good news find in Christ was, to use a cooking term, a ‘reduction’. The idea was to boil away the unecassary ingerdients in order to leave the more powerful essence.
The essence includes about four truths: 1) you are a sinner, 2) the wages of sin is death, 3) God paid the wages through the death of Christ, 4) you can be reconciled to God by accepting this free gift of salvation.
All these things are true, and very good news indeed. Increasingly though, I’m convinced that the reductionist model is missing some things that are vital for the gospel, things that, to the extent that they’re missing, contribute to a vast misrepresentation of both the good news and our calling to live it in this time.
To begin with, Paul calls Jesus, “the Christ”, which is tantamount to calling him “the King”. This is not only vital news, it’s threatening news whenever any state declares itself to be the highest power. Caesar is King. Caesar is Lord. Right? Isn’t that inherent in declaring one’s allegiance to the state?
Further, Caesar declared himself to be “the son of God” and his birth was heralded as “good news” (gospel), throughout the empire. He demanded obedience in the annual event during which citizens of the empire would verbally declare that “Caesar is Lord”.
When people say the gospel isn’t political, I wonder what they’re smoking. Declaring allegiance to an ethic and authority other than the state is the ultimate subversive political act. Paul throws down the gauntlet in the first seven verses of his letter to, of all people, the Romans. It was a letter to the equivalent of Moscow, or Berlin, or Washington D.C. declaring, at the outset, that there’s a different kingdom underway, a different king.
Heads of state don’t generally look kindley on such declarations, and Rome was no exception. Within two decades, Christianity would become the focal point of Rome’s rage, and Christians would become torches for Nero’s parties.
There’s more. Paul declares that this higher allegiance isn’t theory or generic. Rather, he delcares that all followers of Jesus are called to the “obedience of faith”, meaning that they’r called to live differently.
It’s right here that I wonder about the split between the right and the left among people of faith. My sense is that all sides, (all of us, in fact, even we who like to think we have no side), are guilty of cherry picking our obedience. The right gets marital fidelity right, and the call to sexual purity, but somehow thinks hating our enemies and destroying them, and allowing market forces to “raise the living standards for the poor” is the gospel of Jesus.
The left believes (rightly in my opinion) that God calls us to care for the earth, and find ways to love and care for those who are our enemies, but utterly ignores the more personal calls to higher morality. Too often, they believe that changing systems will change the world, when the reality is that changes in the world only come about because of changes in the human heart.
In all of this, it’s also important to remember that Paul never, ever, envisioned the union of political power with the kingdom of God. Power structures will rise and fall, be allied with the gospel at some points, and run counter – it matters not. Our calling remains the same: embody the reign of the king in our communities of faith, and work to actively make that reign visible in our lives, our homes, our cities, and our world.
This is what I’ll be talking about tomorrow. I welcome your thoughts.
Resolutions, hopes, musings, prayers? I really don’t know what these are. But there are ten of them for the new year, offered in no particular order:
1. Exercise – I’m bummed that I’m starting the new year with a couple of injuries that are making my exercise routine more challenging. I remember reading the biography of an Italian climber once who, when interviewed at the age of 87 said, “I still try to do something challenging for my body every day.” That’s my mantra at the beginning of 2010 as well: challenge the body daily somehow.
2. Socialize – The deadline for my next book is May 1st, and I’m aware of my tendency to sort of jump into the ocean of ideas and hide in the safety of my own head rather than be involved in relationships. I’m intent on doing a better job of developing and maintaining relationships with friends, neighbors, and co-workers, during writing season.
3. Encouragement – I was privileged in 2009 to re-connect with some friends from architecture school who were, and still are, gifted encouragers. They reminded my how important this gift is, and I’m intent on developing some little habits in order to more be encouraging.
4. Service – Our church is doing this Rule of Life thing (if you’ve read my book, you know about it), and this year one of our focal points will be service. This is a big and challenging deal for me. When I was in Austria recently, a man ten years older than me got up at 3:30 in the morning to drive someone to airport and then spent the day teaching ski instructors on the slopes while I… slept in, read, did e-mails, took a nap, and tried to write. I was convicted by his action, and the actions of many others, that serving has increasingly become a blind spot in my world, and that if I’d listen more closely to the Holy Spirit, I’d do the dishes more often.
5. Generosity – Stewarding the wealth of health, family, home, and material abundance is a tremendous privilege and responsibility. I’m mindful that I could share more freely and am praying for Jesus to show me the way.
6. Simplicity – I’m tossing stuff I haven’t used, and have it as a goal this year to go through my files (after me) which have become clogged with needles papers, articles, ideas… there will be a fire in the mountains this spring.
7. Mission – As our church moves towards the establishment of new services, campuses, and satellites, it’s on my heart that we also begin to find a way to focus, with greater intentionality, on our own backyard – serving in the North Seattle area creatively and building platforms for relationships there.
8. Teaching – I’ve a men’s retreat this spring and two family conferences this summer. I’m praying that God will use me in these venues, and that I’ll ‘devote myself to these things’ as Paul exhorted Timothy to do. I fear becoming stagnant, redundant, meaningless, as I grow older, and am praying for the capacity to still be used by God, knowing that ‘being used’ is simply the byproduct of my own relationship with Jesus.
9. Beauty – Whether it’s the beauty of creation, poetry, good coffee, architecture, photography, intimacy or…anything else, I pray that I’ll both appreciate beauty and contribute to the beauty of my little part of the world, for it is in beauty and suffering, as Simone Weill wrote, that we see God most clearly. On a practical level, I think this means we need to address the front yard.
10. Contentment – The pursuit of “more” is bothersome to me these days, and I nearly didn’t write this entry because of the risk that it implies a sense of ambition and drivenness that, in reality, simply isn’t in me. Instead, I’m a fan of Ecclesiastes 5:18 – it might even be my ‘verse of the year’, if I were ambitious enough to have one:
Even so, I have noticed one thing, at least, that it is good to eat, drink, and enjoy work under the sun during the short life God has given us, and to accept your lot in life. And it is a good thing to receive wealth from God and the good health to enjoy it. To enjoy your work and accept your lot in life – this is indeed a gift from God.
All right then – welcome to 2010
Years ago a read a little book called, “The Torch of the Testimony”, and after traveling as a tourist during this past trip in Europe, I’m committed to re-reading it in 2010. It’s a church history book filled with biases and lacking footnotes and documentation, so from a scholarly perspective, the material would be a waste of time.
The thesis of the book, however, is both true and sorely needed in our day. Kennedy asserts that, throughout the history of the church, there have always been those who have stood outside the institutional systems of Christianity, eschewing the Protestant/Catholic wars that ravaged Europe (and this blog recently, as well), opting instead for more primitive expressions of the faith; organic expressions of Christ’s life whose sole agenda was to be the presence of the resurrected Jesus in this world. The Waldenses, John Huss, and the radical reformers are among the groups mentioned.
As Kennedy says so well, “The history of the working of the Spirit of God is not the history of any organization, and what usually goes by the name ‘Church History’ is only too often a sorry tale of bigoted quarrels and selfish intrigue. Yet the history of the two, the spiritual movement, and the earthly institution, are sometimes so closely intermingled that it is impossible to give an account of one without referring to the other.”
Normally, my annual time in Europe is primarily devoted to teaching (and a day or two of skiing). But this past trip included vacation time with the family. Touring castles and cathedrals allowed me to see first hand the effects of these bigoted ecclesiastical quarrels and some of the misery that inflicted. When faith is coupled with the pursuit of political power, military might, and the expansion of one’s ‘interests’, be they Protestant or Catholic, history tells us that what ensues will invariably be violent, ugly, and contentious, all in the name of Christ.
But always, in the midst of the institutional Christian insanity, there have been little bastions of greater light. Of course, history also tells us that these bastions of light, as they grew, faced their own trials and challenges. Success, we come to see, is dangerous. Still, the groups of which I’m thinking were convinced that if they were going to be a testimony of Christ, they’d need to release their institutional ambitions, leaving their preservation and growth to God.
As Dietrich Bonhoeffer sat in prison while the war against Germany raged, he began envisioning what would be necessary for Christianity to survive in post-war Germany. In letters written from prison, he envisioned churches that were cut free from state, and even pondered the end of denominationalism, believing that autonomy and locality of churches loosely tied together through fellowship rather than formal ties, would ultimately create a healthier testimony of Christ than institutional interests could ever hope to achieve.
As the church I lead grows larger, Bonhoeffer’s observations and contemplations are helpful. We’re in an age and culture where the franchise is a very real possibility for growing churches. But before spreading our non-denominational logo, we’d be wise to, at the very least, pause and listen to the words of Bonhoeffer:
“The clergy should live solely on the free-will offerings of their congregations, or possibly engage in some secular calling. She must take her part in the social life of the world, not lording it over men, but helping and serving them. She must tell men, whatever their calling, what it means to live in Christ, to exist for others. And in particular, our own church will have to take a strong line with the blasphemies of hubris, power worship, envy and humbug, for these are the roots of evil. She will have to speak of moderation, purity, confidence, loyalty, steadfastness, patience, discipline, humility, contentment, and modesty.”
Nothing could be truer… or more timely, at the start of a new decade.
Merry Christmas from Austria… I’ll be on holiday until New Year’s Eve. In the meantime, here’s a gift I’ve shared with my family as a way of saying: God has blessed me beyond all I could ask, hope, imagine.
May you know Christ’s life as your hope, peace, and joy throughout the new year.
See you in 2010
After falling last Thursday on the ski slope in Austria, I could barely move. My fall was a mere 150 meters of skiing above the gondola, which I needed to enter in order to get down the mountain, for only the top half is presently up and running. It was getting dark, and every turn made my insides feel as if they were being pulled apart, so much so that I briefly considered sitting on the snow and waiting for help to come.
As the nature of my injury became clear, I did what I’m prone to with everything: research. I visited countless internet sites to discern the finer points of distinction between three possible injuries. What was troubling me was that fact that only one of these three was ‘self healing’. I agonized over this, because I’m one of those people who like to know what’s going on, whether it’s good or bad. Unfortunately, though, my twenty minutes of internet medical training left me ill equipped for an accurate self-diagnosis.
By Monday afternoon, I’d decided that I needed to speak with someone who had more knowledge about these injuries than me. Fortunately, there’s a ‘ski injury specialist’ whose office is within walking distance of the school. He treats members of the Austrian national ski team, so I suspected he might have seen an injury or two in his time. What’s more, he speaks English. That settled it. I made an appointment for Tuesday morning, and was in the examining room by 9AM. (that the whole thing cost me less, by paying straight cash, than it would have cost me out of pocket with my current insurance is another story… for another time).
He looked, poked, assessed range of motion. I explained the injury. “It is not the serious kind” he said. “It will heal on it’s on.” Relief, immediately becomes a question: “How long until it heals?”
“You will know” he says.
“How?” I ask.
“It will stop hurting.”
“But right now I can’t even do a sit-up” I say.
“Your body is telling you to not do sit-ups then. The pain is there for a reason.” And then he said this: “All healing requires pain.”
I walked home, both gladdened by the diagnosis, and pondering that last statement: “all healing requires pain.” I thought of the painful revelations I’ve tried to avoid facing in my life, revelations about hurt, loss, rejection. Try though I have (and still do, at times) to silence the pain, it rises to the surface, revealing my own need for grace and transformation. But facing the pain, and letting the pain do it’s healing work, is as much a necessity for the soul as the body.
Jesus faced the pain of loss in the garden, and it worked towards both his perfection and our healing.
Helmut Theilicke, the German theologian (I won’t tell you which denomination 🙂 said, “the problem with the church in the West is an inadequate view of suffering.” I might say that there are many other problems as well; inadequate Christology, consumerism, idolatry of wealth and materialism. But Helmut’s right in saying that we have inadequate view of suffering, because we’re trained from the earliest age to build a pain free life.
We learn that every time we’re told that there’s a new drug available for your malady. We learn that when we self medicate away the pain of our isolation. We learn that when we make choices based on self-preservation rather than integrity.
The gift of pain is the shaking and alterations it brings to our lives, precisely so that we might be healed from whatever it is that is robbing us from wholeness. I feel better today, but still can’t do a sit up, so I’m forcing myself to stay of the slopes. Pain is the teacher and the lesson is simple: relax and let go of your demands to master the hill. You’ve a different plan now… but it will still be good.