Come Hell or High Water

Of course we don't usually have such a clear conversation with God about what He is doing in our lives (or not doing), partly because everything is obscured by the mist of lies, and partly because the conversation happens rather in our actions than our words.  However, a writer must needs put into words such experiences, as for example when we face great trials and tribulations in our lives.  Also, it can help to illumine further truths about our journey by looking at reality bluntly expressed in the words of an ordinary conversation:

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Me: I'm going to do it come hell or high water.

Jesus: All right, if that's really what you want.

(He lets there be a little hell or high water, proverbially speaking:)

Me: Oh, Lord, take it away! I can't go on like this!

Jesus (gently): That's not what you said in the beginning. You could have said: "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me."

Me: Isn't that what I meant?

Jesus: Is it?

Me: Well...

Jesus: Or did you mean: "I've got this under control and I want to win the victory all by myself."

Me: ...

Jesus: I am with you always, but I will never force Myself on you.

Superheroes and the Spiritual Life

When the thoughts gyrating in my mind ran up against the experience of watching The Avengers yesterday, I found myself with a new frame of reference.  Now I don't usually watch superhero movies, partly because I dislike people doing stupid things and cities being destroyed and so on.  However, the mere fact that it was a Joss Whedon script was enough to draw me in with delightful quips such as Captain's America's comment: "There's only one God, ma'am, and I'm pretty sure he doesn't dress like that."

So, as I mentioned, I can't stand people not doing the right thing and preventing destruction and that is basically the entire premise of any movie where enemies from outer space or elsewhere come with invading armies.  As a melancholic evaluating the situation, it is easy to ask how they could make such critical mistakes.

It is the same in our own lives.  Why do we choose to believe the lies of the enemy instead of believing in the love of God?  Why do we believe we are unlovable, unworthy, that we are destined to fail, that we don't belong, that we have to be the best at everything in order to be okay with who we are, that we must prove our worth even in the sight of God, and so on?  Why do we choose to believe things that make us miserable instead of accepting the glorious good news that we are children of the Most High God who has conquered death so that we can live in freedom?

Somehow the lies seem easier to believe.

Maybe we will never know exactly why that is.  However, we can look at it from the analogical perspective provided by The Avengers and indeed by any other story that we love.

We can say with this particular example that they ought to have destroyed the tesseract at the very beginning.  We can even say that they should have figured out a way to close the portal before so many of the bizarre alien creatures came down.  But why didn't they?  Dramatically speaking, it wouldn't have been as powerful.  If they had destroyed the tesseract at the beginning, there would have been no movie.  If they had shut the portal sooner, the potential devastation would have been much less, which means our relief when the good guys finally win would have been substantially less. Ultimately, it manipulates our emotions: the darker it gets and the more hopeless it seems, the more we appreciate the inevitable victory.

Perhaps there is a similar reason for the story of our own lives.  If we had everything handed to us on the proverbial silver platter and never had to work hard for faith or virtue, having the truth wouldn't mean much to us.  If we never had to struggle, how would we appreciate the victory?  If we never had to be saved from our own stupidity and sinfulness and shame, why would we care that we have a Savior?

The superheroes struggled because Loki was smarter than they and continually outwitted them, laughing when they fell into his traps.  The devil attacks us in much the same way.  Before we know it, we are trapped in a myriad of lies that make no sense when brought into the bright light of day.

Often we never know how dark it is until we quite blaming ourselves and surrender to God's working in our hearts.  We want it to be our fault, or we want to blame some person or situation for the evil in our lives, because then we know the problem and we can control it and what we can control we can change our way.  Yet that is only a shade of the Pelagian lie—the lie as old as Satan—that we can save ourselves.

We can't.

Only God can save us and He will as often as we turn to Him. He promises to save us from our sins and He is faithful. He waits for the climactic moment—the moment when we can no longer do anything on our own and choose to turn to Him—and then He acts beyond our wildest dreams. And all we need is faith the size of a mustard seed.

The Ring of Power

"All we ever wanted was the illusion of control. But we have none, not really. And neither do the people around us who seem so intimidating in all their radiant perfection. Ultimately, we can all take comfort in the understanding that they're not actually perfect, and that none of us ever will be. We're not, as we've been promised, 'as gods.' On the contrary, we're animals but we think we're not animals. We're products of the mud."
 ~Will Storr, Selfie: How We Became So Self-Obsessed and What It's Doing to Us 

Now I would like to just leave those words there without further comment, as I think in many ways he has hit the proverbial nail on the head. However, since in doing so, he has bent the nail a bit sideways I feel it necessary not to remain silent and thereby express my consent.

We are not products of the mud. After all, if you multiply mud times mud I am quite sure you only get mud.  (Or maybe a mud square.)

Aside from the math jokes, we are in some sense from the mud: Dust thou art and unto dust thou shalt return. However, we are more than animals. We may not yet be like gods—or at least we may not feel like gods—but we do have immortal souls and therefore are far more than animals. Yet we are still animals, influenced very much by our fleshly existence and our genetics and sometimes so much so that it seems like we have no free will at all.

Despite whether we think we believe in free will or not, we constantly act out our belief in it on a daily basis. We try to seize control of our situations whether by understanding why we feel a certain way, trying to keep our houses clean, or starting businesses or ministries to change the world.

It is as if the Ring of Power lies before us and we strive with all our might to seize it.  We are ignorant of its true meaning: that if we do indeed place it upon our finger, we shall then be bound in slavery to our greatest enemy who wants only our destruction.

 

We want to be like God. We want that power, that control, that ability to make something out of nothing.

At the same time, however, we do know our weakness and brokenness. We know we have no real control, but somehow we seek it anyway. Somehow we are not yet willing to surrender it all to the One who loves us more than we love ourselves and who knows all that was and is and ever will be. We prefer to seize power for ourselves, even knowing that it will never satisfy, and that it is in the end no more than a mirage.  This is enough for us:

"All we ever wanted was the illusion of control. But we have none, not really. And neither do the people around us who seem so intimidating in all their radiant perfection."

There is much comfort in realizing that and in knowing that we are not perfect and never will be so long as we walk this earth. In some sense, it lets us off the proverbial hook, at least if we will let ourselves off of it instead of clinging yet again to another illusionary idea of control. For a desire for perfection can itself be a desire for power and therefore a two-edged sword that will turn against us.

That is why we must let go even of that last vestige of illusion if we want to seek reality. Yet we do not always prefer the truth. We choose instead the darkness:

And this is the judgment: because the light is come into the world, and men loved darkness rather than the light: for their works were evil. (John 3:19)

Here it is we face the crux of our choice: we can will to descend into the darkness and surrender to the kingdom of evil or we can nail our will to the Cross, letting in the light and the Kingdom of God. Our will then is what matters and not our feelings of brokenness and inadequacy and hopelessness, for these are only feelings. Why they weigh us down, none can say, save the One who holds the universe in His hand and who stirs our hearts with longing for His presence, which alone can satisfy the deepest longings within us.