For the Glorification of God

Quick update, and then jumping into what's on my mind this evening:

I started my new job two weeks ago, and am finding it very much what I hoped for.  The more regular schedule and less frenetic pace are helping me to regain some sanity, for which I am grateful, as I'm sure Justin is.  I do feel odd donning scrubs and a white lab coat, they seem so real-jobbish yet pajama-ish, but I'm quickly finding my place there and enjoying those I work with.  I'm almost able to work on my own and feel a supreme satisfaction each time I stick someone's finger and am actually able to make it bleed enough to easily fill the capillary tube (this is something I had no idea took a bit of skill when I was simply donating at the center and was on the other side of the counter).  Simply put, I'm having fun and am thankful for this new experience.

*****

IF I WOULD HAVE KNOWN the tension that would accompany trying to live as a Christian in the Christian community following a season spent apart from that community, I would have either (a) never left in the first place, or (b) never come back. 

At least, this is how I feel much of the time.

Statements that once I responded to with great enthusiasm and nods of approval ring hollow and empty now.  During my time spent away from the Clubhouse, I lost the ability to hear things like an insider does.  I hear them and inwardly I'm thinking to myself, what the hell is that supposed to mean, exactly?

I want to relate.  I do.  But communicating sometimes is the churchland equivalent of trying to hold a conversation in fluent Spanish when the last time you spoke it was in Spanish II back in high school ten years ago.  You're limited to broken phrases only, and the meaning never seems to come through very clearly.  It's frustrating, no matter which side of the conversation you're on.

Buechner writes about it in algebraic terms:

"X + Y = Z.  If you know the value of one of the letters, you know something.  If you know the value of two, you can probably figure out the whole thing.  If you don't know the value of any, you don't know much.

"Preachers tend to forget this.  'Accept Jesus Christ as your personal Lord and Savior and be saved from your sins,' or something like that, has meaning and power and relevance only if the congregation has some notion of what, humanly speaking, sin is, or being saved is, or who Jesus is, of what accepting him involves.  If preachers make no attempt to flesh out these words in terms of everyday human experience (maybe even their own) but simply repeat with variations the same old formulas week after week, then the congregation might just as well spend Sunday morning at home with the funnies."

Some days, I'm quite certain that my faith would not have survived but for Buechner and Yancey and Lamott.  Scratch that.  Most days.

I am blessed beyond belief to have a pastor who does flesh out what the words mean in terms of his own life, and it is like drinking a tall, cold glass of water to listen to him speak.  Grant is a rarity.  He spoke on a passage in James regarding taming the tongue this morning, and had the gall to declare near the end of his sermon: "I realize this is not easy.  I almost ruined my marriage with this thing .  I almost lost the trust of my children with this thing."  It's truly mind-blowing to hear a pastor talk about personal weakness truthfully, rather than framing it as a joke or sarcasm.  He always brings it back around to the fact that he struggles with things too.  It's such a relief to know I'm not the only one who has just as many screw-up moments as I do victories (on good days).

*****

Other spots aren't so easy.

Someone asked Justin the other day what the purpose of marriage was.  Justin replied that it's a lot of things: companionship, a support system, love, encouraging each other's dreams, growing as an individual as well as helping your companion to grow, etc.  Justin asked him for his own answer, and his response was this: "Well, I think it's about Jesus."

Just that.  "It's about Jesus."

We were at small group later that night and the question was resurrected.  Another person easily chimed in: "Oh, it's for the glorification of God."

X + Y = Z.  I felt like I was the only one in the room who had taken crazy pills.  To everyone else, it seemed the answers made perfect sense without any form of explanation.  (Well, to almost everyone else.  Justin tried to make his point by answering every question for the remainder of the evening with the phrase, "For the glorification of God," but everyone just laughed).

These statements bother me a great deal for many reasons, not the least of which is the simple fact that they're not very different from things I'm sure I used to say all the time.  I spoke of spiritual concepts -- to be honest, God himself -- in such certain, casual terms, never taking the time to explain to anyone else (or even discover for myself) what such lofty phrases meant in my actual, everyday, very human existence.  I knew how to get the answer right.  Application was of little importance.

As we were talking about the past week's sermon on tempation later in the night, one of the questions provided to us asked about how we respond to temptation.  "The Armor of God," someone said. 

What?

At this point I need to back up and say that I don't have a problem with people saying that something's about Jesus or quoting something in the Bible.  We're okay there.  What frustrates me is when people throw out spiritual-sounding answers so easily without explaining what they mean, taking the time to "flesh out these words in terms of everyday human experience (maybe even their own)..."

I asked him what he meant by that, if he really went through the Armor of God when he was tempted.  It was a sincere question, but I purposely pushed the envelope, wanting to get to what he really meant.  He laughed uncomfortably, and said, no, he doesn't do that.  I pressed him, asked him how he personally handles it when he's being tempted.  There weren't any easy answers at that point, and at that moment I was most able to hear where he was coming from.  It was real.  It was unsure.  It was human.  It was an arena that I can understand.

Would my time be better spent at home reading the funnies?  Depends on when you ask me.  I like spending time with these people and would have them over for game night any day of the week, but I sometimes feel I might be better off saving my spiritual vulnerability for elsewhere.  I say it often, but it's true -- I'm a messy Christian, and I'm not interested so much anymore in having right answers as in having authentic ones.  I've had enough Sunday School answers for the rest of my life.  I'm comfortable talking about God's holiness and talking about ways to grow closer to living it out, but would just as soon we spoke honestly about our own lack of it when it comes to our daily lives.

Tempted as I am sometimes, I'm not sure I'll be at home with the funnies quite yet.  I can get frustrated with lack of communication, but the truth is that I have to be willing to spell out in clear and understandable words where I'm at in my own everyday real life.  I have to be willing to have courage and speak words from my heart, regardless of whether people think I'm a poor Christian or a poor example or an annoyance because I try to make people say what they mean (at least eventually).  I can't ask of others what I'm not willing to do myself.  We'll see.  It may be that we never get past Christianese and J and I will need to move on in search of counterparts who speak Human, but that time hasn't come quite yet.  I'm still hoping that we can find some common ground and I'll be able to feel okay being imperfect and doubtful sometimes.

I just hope it's soon.  The journey is far too long not to have some encouraging companions along the way. 

Deepest thanks to Justin, who is the most trustworthy, honest and encouraging companion one could ask for.  I love reading our Yancey out loud each night and struggling through this thing together.  Justin, you are God's grace to me in human form, and I love you.