I have been thinking a lot about suffering lately. I have been telling the story of Kitty's illness and all that she and her family are going through to many of my friends and coworkers, and it has prompted some spiritual questions. On two different occasions, the CEO of our organization asked me how I could believe in a God who would allow such pain, injustice - some might say evil - to occur. I didn't have a well thought out response to the "theodicy question" handy at my finger tips...I ended up blabbing about how pain and injustice only make redemption possible, and how I don't think God wills us to get cancer at age 25, but he wills us to depend on him as we struggle through it. I was definitely too chicken to talk about sin or Satan, and even more importantly, I somehow forgot to mention Jesus.
Having a religion where the deity chooses a path of suffering and death is pretty darn unique, and I can't believe I failed to point this out to my boss. There is no pain we can experience, no hardship we can endure, that our God himself has not experienced. And as a Kempis points out, these trials are basically the whole point of our faith - the vehicle of sanctification: "There is no escaping the cross" (39). As the quote at the beginning of the chapter states, "If we do not bear the cross of the Master, we will have to bear the cross of the world" (36). It's going to be hard either way! But if we choose to go with Jesus - if we choose the "narrow" way and drink his cup of suffering - we also get to share in his redemption, in the glory to come.
I admit I was slightly put off by the statement that "he wishes you to learn to bear trial without consolation" (39)...it sort of sounds like God abandons us to the evils of the world for the sake of character-building. But in contrast to my boss' view that God wants or passively allows evil, I think all of the suffering we experience can be traced back to a combination of consequences for sin and the preservation of free will. God wants us to freely choose, and a lot of the time, we freely choose to ignore or deny him. If he was constantly meddling in the world, fixing everything we'd messed up, we would lose the power of agency, and our choices for good would lose much of their meaning. All this junk in our lives just teaches us dependence, and points us back to grace:
"We also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us." (Romans 5:3-5)
So back to Kitty...I don't think I'm at the point yet of rejoicing in this suffering. I've cried, and I've yelled, and I've thrown things, and I've had plenty of migraines. But I haven't blamed God, and I haven't given up on him. Somehow - and I guess this is the Holy Spirit - I know that we are carrying this cross together, that he is drinking this cup with me. I have an unexplained hope. It's not a happy hope, but the sort of hope a Kempis is referring to when he says that "as your love for God increases, so will the pain of your exile" (40). The more we know of heaven, the more we long for it, and the paler everything else becomes in comparison. But somehow just knowing that hope is there makes all that we endure along the "royal road" a bit more bearable.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
The Relinquished Life - Oswald Chambers
We must relinquish all pretense of being anything, all claim of being worthy of God's consideration (31).
What a challenge!! Mr. Chambers is definitely living up to his reputation. This statement matches up with things C.S. Lewis writes about in Screwtape Letters and The Great Divorce...the most dangerous sins are the sins of pride. But there is such a fine line between righteousness in a good sense and righteousness in a bad sense! I can definitely sympathize with the Pharisees. They tried so hard, only to find that "the first shall be last" and "blessed are the poor in spirit." It's downright aggravating.
And I think of my friends who have not yet submitted - or admitted - to Christ. Chambers says, "The higher up you get in the scale of natural virtues, the more intense is the opposition to Jesus Christ" (34-35). Does this mean that folks who are smoking pot, having unsafe sex and cussing out their coworkers are closer to Jesus than those who are striving for social justice, stewarding Creation with love, and being faithful to their partners? That's really hard to swallow. What can be done to humble the pretentious, including me?
One comforting thought comes from Chambers' interpretation of Galatians 2:20: "Have I entered into the glorious privilege of being crucified with Christ until all that is left is the life of Christ in my flesh and blood?" (33, emphasis added) I love this image, because it implies that Christ was there, in our flesh and blood, all along. We do not have to do the work of bringing Christ in, of "asking him into our hearts." We just have to wash away the pretense - the thought that everything good in ourselves comes from ourselves. When we do this, the good remains; it is simply given its proper name, Christ.
What a challenge!! Mr. Chambers is definitely living up to his reputation. This statement matches up with things C.S. Lewis writes about in Screwtape Letters and The Great Divorce...the most dangerous sins are the sins of pride. But there is such a fine line between righteousness in a good sense and righteousness in a bad sense! I can definitely sympathize with the Pharisees. They tried so hard, only to find that "the first shall be last" and "blessed are the poor in spirit." It's downright aggravating.
And I think of my friends who have not yet submitted - or admitted - to Christ. Chambers says, "The higher up you get in the scale of natural virtues, the more intense is the opposition to Jesus Christ" (34-35). Does this mean that folks who are smoking pot, having unsafe sex and cussing out their coworkers are closer to Jesus than those who are striving for social justice, stewarding Creation with love, and being faithful to their partners? That's really hard to swallow. What can be done to humble the pretentious, including me?
One comforting thought comes from Chambers' interpretation of Galatians 2:20: "Have I entered into the glorious privilege of being crucified with Christ until all that is left is the life of Christ in my flesh and blood?" (33, emphasis added) I love this image, because it implies that Christ was there, in our flesh and blood, all along. We do not have to do the work of bringing Christ in, of "asking him into our hearts." We just have to wash away the pretense - the thought that everything good in ourselves comes from ourselves. When we do this, the good remains; it is simply given its proper name, Christ.
Surrender is Everything - Jean Pierre de Caussade
This chapter reminded me of the ultimate "surrender song" that I learned at Urbana 03: Jesus, All For Jesus.
For it's only in Your will that I am free.
Good stuff. And I definitely believe it. But I do have a rub with some of the stuff Monsieur de Caussade writes: "I no longer have anything to be concerned about, anything to do. I have no hand in the arrangement of one single moment of my life" (28) and "Mine is to be satisfied with your work and not to demand the choice of action or condition, but to leave everything to your good pleasure" (29). Does surrender mean the sacrifice of free will? Is there such a thing as too much complacency, even in God's will? Can't we be dissatisfied, seeing as we still live in a broken, fallen world?
Recently a friend of mine questioned the tendency of Christians to see unfortunate circumstances as "God's will" and simply accept them, rather than acting to improve them. I can't help but agree...I think God expects us to ACT and CHOOSE and DO according to his desires (justice, love, beauty, peace), but to surrender our own "ambitions, hopes and plans" along the way. It's definitely a paradox - essentially fighting and surrendering at the same time - but I have to believe it's possible. Anyone have any good analogies/images for this?
Jesus, all for Jesus,
All I am and have and ever hope to be.
All I am and have and ever hope to be.
All of my ambitions, hopes and plans
I surrender these into Your hands.
I surrender these into Your hands.
Good stuff. And I definitely believe it. But I do have a rub with some of the stuff Monsieur de Caussade writes: "I no longer have anything to be concerned about, anything to do. I have no hand in the arrangement of one single moment of my life" (28) and "Mine is to be satisfied with your work and not to demand the choice of action or condition, but to leave everything to your good pleasure" (29). Does surrender mean the sacrifice of free will? Is there such a thing as too much complacency, even in God's will? Can't we be dissatisfied, seeing as we still live in a broken, fallen world?
Recently a friend of mine questioned the tendency of Christians to see unfortunate circumstances as "God's will" and simply accept them, rather than acting to improve them. I can't help but agree...I think God expects us to ACT and CHOOSE and DO according to his desires (justice, love, beauty, peace), but to surrender our own "ambitions, hopes and plans" along the way. It's definitely a paradox - essentially fighting and surrendering at the same time - but I have to believe it's possible. Anyone have any good analogies/images for this?
In Mirrors - Walter Wangerin
This mirror [Christ's crucifixion] is not passive only, showing what is; it is active, creating new things to be [...] resurrection is another me. (p.13-14)
I love this thought. Lent is not about wallowing, about feeling sorry for our pathetic selves. It begins with ashes, but it ends with palm fronds and Easter lilies. When we look at Christ crucified, we see our truest selves, "naked and poor," exposed. We see our sin, but in the same instant it is recognized, it's absolved. The "tremendous truth," as Wangerin says, is that the moment we truly see the dirt, we are cleansed of it. Talk about amazing grace! It's like a funhouse mirror...Christ shows you the old self and the new self all wrapped into one. If either one were missing, though, the story would be incomplete.
I love this thought. Lent is not about wallowing, about feeling sorry for our pathetic selves. It begins with ashes, but it ends with palm fronds and Easter lilies. When we look at Christ crucified, we see our truest selves, "naked and poor," exposed. We see our sin, but in the same instant it is recognized, it's absolved. The "tremendous truth," as Wangerin says, is that the moment we truly see the dirt, we are cleansed of it. Talk about amazing grace! It's like a funhouse mirror...Christ shows you the old self and the new self all wrapped into one. If either one were missing, though, the story would be incomplete.
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