seethrough

i stumbled on a thought while reading Rob Bell - Velvet Elvis.  in a section entitled “yoke” he speaks about his conviction that the bible didn’t fall out of the sky.  he begs “us” to once and for all drop the “manual-for-life” analogy and recognise that the bible was written in a real time, in a real place, and by real people.

i like what  he’s saying.

that’s when i stumbled onto the thought…  we (in the christian community, usually called the church) struggle to get people to do the application part of the deal.  we’re good at talking.  our theology (read theory) is awe-inspiring in it’s comprehensive coverage of all things pertaining to the life of a christ-follower.  doctoral theses have been written about things that even Jesus doesn’t understand.  (in fact I think Jesus struggles to remember the correct spelling for ecclesiology, but anyway…)  as I was saying awe-inspiring theory.

but when it comes to application - to the integration of our theory into our lives - we often fall short.

could it be that the growing (and commonly held) perception that the bible is somehow a mysterious and magical book of timeless truths that just dropped out of the sky (i.e. NOT originating from real places, real times and real people) is actually at the heart of this problem with integrating biblical truth with everyday living?

i agree with Rob Bell that what makes the Bible valuable, significant and quite unique is that it records the stories of people seeking to live out their faith in the midst of the challenges of their particular times, circumstances.  Perhaps more importantly it also records the personal challenges of individuals in their journeys of faith - investigating their very particular and personal challenges - from anger and murder to sexual brokenness and adultery, from failure and faithlessness to weakness and hopelessness.

what may help people to marry theory and practice - biblical teaching and faithful living - is approaching the Bible with a fresh openness - trusting that it’s greatest gift is that it records the stories of faith honestly - fear and failure, hope and triumph.  But always - it’s a story about application.  It’s always about making faith work in everyday circumstances!!!

we need real faith for real life.  and we need to read the Bible in a way that encourages rubber meeting road.

how do we face a tragedy?  I say we need to engage our hearts - allow ourselves to feel the tragedy and weep before the bodies lying in the streets - or hanging from a cross…  (see tragedy part 1 below)

So how do we survive a tragedy?

Our natural survival instinct suggests run - run away from any danger, threat or potential difficulty.  We assume hope is found at the top of the mountain - where the outlook is great and the view inspiring.  But experience - painful experience - teaches that hope is born in the valley.

In the valley of the shadow of death we learn how to trust.  “Into your hands I commit my spirit”.  It’s in the darkest place that we learn to surrender and we start the most profound season of our faith-life journey.  Perhaps that what is meant when U2 sing:

“midnight is where the day begins” (from Lemon)

Rather than running from the place of our pain, we may find we have to return there - not to be retraumatised - but so that we can begin the journey of hope, which begins in the valley.

a friend and I were speaking yesterday about money and generosity - and we concluded that the practice of generosity has to be learned when you have very little.  Somehow having a lot, more than enough, makes it more difficult to learn generosity!  is it the same with hope?

[One caution: some people are so overwhelmed by their pain or trauma that to “return” or to face the pain and acknowledge the grief will be too much.  perhaps it is important to recognise that sometimes our survival may require a period of “numb-ness” - a time of denial - just to survive the overwhelming emotions that threaten to wash over and drown us.]

how do you face a tragedy?

I sometimes sit with a family who are preparing a funeral for a loved one.  Paying tribute to the deceased is an important part of the funeral service, and the grieving process.  (assuming that the person who has died was really loved and appreciated by the family…) the family often hesitate over the tribute, voicing the fear that they “might not be able to”.  by this they mean they might be overcome with emotion and cry while speaking.

My question is why would we want to avoid tears at a time like this?  Ok, so there’s the public eye.  No-one wants to stand sobbing in front of a group of people.  But is that it?  Have we in some way conditioned ourselves not to feel.  Are feelings of pain, sadness and grief an inconvenience?  even an irritation?  Or perhaps just an embarrassment?

What does weeping during a tribute suggest?  That the person weeping is weak?  That the person weeping has loved and lost?

my sense is that we approach tragedy with our feelings well hidden.  (a huge generalisation, but made on the basis of a growing assessment of a cultural “way of being” of which I am a part.) On Good Friday we come to tragedy of the Jesus’ death on a cross with our heads.  We analyse and consider and theologise the Cross - and in so doing probably miss the horror and the absurdity of Jesus’ death.  We sit and stare at a Cross - the symbol of tortuous punishment and death - and come to some carefully considered opinion about it’s significance.

and then we go home and eat hot-cross buns.

I think we need a dose of feeling.  we need to encounter good friday, and the cross of Jesus, with our hearts.

This Friday co-incided with the anniversary of the Sharpeville Massacre.  In 1960 69 people were killed - mostly shot as they fled the gun-fire of South African police.  Innocent people killed while protesting the discrimitary nature of the pass-laws which required all black south africans to carry special “pass” identification with them at all times.

When we take time to remember - when we face the tragedy - we are tempted to analyse, to attach significance. That’s ok, we are meaning-makers.  that’s what we do.

But when do we weep?  When do we face the absolute tragedy of an innocent person condemned to painful death for no real reason?

so there’s this hectic story in the Hebrew scriptures about the monster and the little boy - the underdog. And everyone’s screeming from the cheap seats…

“Come on David!!!” (even though they’re convinced he’s gonna get crunched by the muscular villian)

Ok, so most people know the outcome - a giant with one smooth stone right between the eyes.

It’s the archetype story of spiritual growth - the moment of realisation, when the truth hits you and all your “strength” and assumptions and the confidence that has propped you up is gone and you find yourself flat on your back…

It was like that the other day for me. I was in a workshop on the Enneagram (see my previous post below) and the group was being introduced to the “1″ type. Their big thing is being right. I commented that I am frustrated with 1’s in my church who are always taking a fundamentalist “right-is-right” stance. The leader of the workshop defended the 1’s a little, but as we progressed it began to dawn on me that all the 1’s in the room didn’t resemble the fundamentalists I have an issue with at all! They were all quiet, nice, cautious and respectful woman…

i went home and continued reading about the “6″ type - hoping to understand myself better - and stumbled across a statement that was my smooth stone: 6’s are the most likely to associate with fundamentalist causes.

In addition to that, the book suggested that the most common defense mechanism of the 6 type is projection. Blow me down… Here I was blaming 1’s - and their need to be “right” - of being at the root of fundamentalist conflicts in the church… and all the time I’m the fundamentalist. I think i have to own that there is a certain fundamentalist flavour to my rejection of fundamentalism…

It’s not pretty. (another reason I connect with Goliath in the story…) but at least it’s a bit more honest…

[by the way - while 1’s are deeply committed to being right - they usually internalise that need to be right, becoming very critical and harsh task-masters of themselves. They are not likely to force their standards on others. Understanding the 1 better helps me to understand the deeply difficult relationship some people have with perfection.]