faith

“We Have No Right to Happiness” – C. S. Lewis’s final words of caution

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53 years ago (November 22, 1963), John F. Kennedy was assassinated in Dallas, TX shortly after noon. Less than an hour earlier, C. S. Lewis had collapsed and died at his home in Oxford. The news of his death was quite overshadowed by the American tragedy.

On the day he died, the December 21st issue of The Saturday Evening Post was heading to press. In it were the last words written by Lewis for publication, a short opinion piece titled “We Have No Right to Happiness.” It could have been written today, and certainly should be read today. There are a few unsettling moments, typical of Lewis, that may cause some women to bristle (whether he was insensitive, obtuse, unaware, or misunderstood by readers is a discussion for another time). Regardless, his message is critical to this moment in human history, just as it was in 1963, just as it was in 1982 when SEP reran it, just as it will be next year, and just as it will be for the remainder of human history.

Saturday Evening Post, Dec. 21, 1963
Table of Contents, SEP, 12/21/1963
We Have No Right to Happiness (C.S. Lewis)
We Have No Right to Happiness (C.S. Lewis)

The article lays out a scenario in which person A divorces person B in order to marry person C, who has recently divorced person D. A and B were unhappy together (in A’s opinion, at least), as were C and D (per C, anyway), whereas A and C are head-over-heels-happy as a couple and obviously meant to be together.

They, in fact, have a right – perhaps even a duty – to use whatever means and follow whatever path that will help them fully realize their happiness. It isn’t just for their own good: it is for the good of humanity at large.

That’s a paraphrase, but you get the idea.

In typical Lewis fashion, he’ll have none of this weak and faulty logic.

“At first, [‘a right to happiness’] sounds to me as odd as a right to good luck. For I believe – whatever one school of moralists may say – that we depend for a very great deal of our happiness or misery on circumstances outside all human control. A right to happiness doesn’t, for me, make much more sense than a right to be six feet tall, or to have a millionaire for your father, or to get good weather whenever you want to have a picnic.”

And yet, we do expect that many things out of our control should and ought to be in our control. And we are not afraid to say so or to manipulate the system (or the doctrine) accordingly.

Recently, several highly visible and influential people have thrown off the fetters that have thoroughly strained and prevented their happiness. Convinced of their own insight and rightness, they are encouraging others to do the same. They firmly believe (or at least firmly feel) that any moral or orthodox restraints that tamper with one’s own inclinations and one’s own sense of well-being and happiness are optional.

Morality is malleable. Orthodoxy is not obligatory.

It does not much matter at this point who is most recently blaring this message. It was someone else last week. It will be someone else next week. There will always be someone saying 1) you deserve what you desire and 2) you alone are in charge of setting your own moral compass.

We all want to define our own morality and grasp for whatever makes us happy. We truly feel we deserve this, regardless of the cost or fallout to other people. That persons B and D may not have felt the same way about the dissolution of their respective covenantal marriages as did A and C does not figure into the blissful narrative. B and D’s happiness is not of concern.

Simply put, persons A and C (in this particular Lewis scenario) are quite certain that they deserve happiness – but that B and D likely do not.

This is basically how all of humanity functions. We would like God to step in and stop all the madness, lying, greed, destruction, and other bad behavior by forcing the human race to behave as they ought (which is the only way such uniform and long-lasting good behavior would ever happen). But there is a caveat: we expect Him to leave us alone. No forced good behavior for yours truly, thank you very much.

And therein is perhaps the most obvious reason why none of us has a right to happiness, or in fact to anything at all. We are hopelessly and helplessly fallen creatures who put on a good show of righteous indignation about desiring universal peace and bliss – but we insist that our own decisions and choices be off-limits from God’s powerful control.

In classic Lewis fashion, this final article of his ends with a reminder that one misstep will logically lead to another. Demanding personal happiness in the realm of relationship, specifically sexual and romantic relationship, is merely one step towards a greater evil.

“The fatal principle [that one deserves happiness], once allowed in that department [i.e. the sexual impulse], must sooner or later seep through our whole lives. We thus advance toward a state of society in which not only each man but every impulse in each man claims carte blanche. And then, though our technological skills may help us survive a little longer, our civilization will have died at heart, and will – one dare not even add ‘unfortunately’ – be swept away.”

One of the most engaging and alluring voices of today is currently saying some alarming things in regards to recent life events:

“Feels like the world could use all the love it can get right now. So today, I’m going to share with you my new love … I want you to grow so comfortable in your own being, your own skin, your own knowing – that you become more interested in your own joy and freedom and integrity than in what others think about you. That you remember that you only live once, that this is not a dress rehearsal and so you must BE who you are. I want you to refuse to betray yourself. Not just for you. For ALL OF US. Because what the world needs — in order to grow, in order to relax, in order to find peace, in order to become brave — is to watch one woman at a time live her truth without asking for permission or offering explanation. The most revolutionary thing a woman can do is not explain herself.”

I would respond with this:

  • The world does absolutely need all the love it can get right now. Thus has it been since the first humans said “no” to God and “yes” to their desires. That is why Jesus came as a babe, died as Savior, and was resurrected as Lord – to show us the only Love that can change life.
  • My own joy, freedom, and integrity are real and significant only insofar as they flow out of Christ’s presence and strength in my life.
  • We only live once on this earth; in some ways, this absolutely is a dress rehearsal for the life to come – which doesn’t mean we are allowed to carelessly muddle things or intentionally toss it all off as inconsequential or meaningless.
  • If “betraying myself” means giving up my rights to me, dying to myself each day, carrying my cross, and following Jesus into the difficult places where he will lead, then I will not refuse that (as much as I may wish to). It is the only hope for transformation, growth, and discovering the depth of God’s love and grace.
  • In order to grow, relax, find peace, and become brave, the world does not need to watch one woman at a time live her truth without asking for permission or offering explanation. Indeed not. Rather, the world needs to embrace the Incarnate Lord who not only lived  his truth but was Truth, and who voluntarily offered himself as the only sacrifice that could bring us forgiveness, hope, and life.
  • The most revolutionary thing a woman (or man) can do is to surrender herself – fully, deeply, humbly, painfully, and helplessly. Only then can she (or he) truly live.

We musn’t fret that this most recent round of false gospel is something that will finally tumble humanity beyond redemption. Every false gospel is equally dangerous.

At the same time, we mustn’t brush off this most recent round of false gospel as just another weightless and non-substantial folly. All folly is dangerous, and the closer it sounds to the True Gospel, the more dangerous it is.

Read carefully. Listen thoughtfully. Do not be seduced by sweet words that promise life and happiness but in the end deliver emptiness and despair.

We have no right to happiness – or anything else, for that matter – and yet God offers us his love and hope anyway. Grab them – and only them – and then settle in for a life that only He can provide.

 

 

 

 

Dads in the back with the babies

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There’s a lot of shouting these days. Also marching, crying, worrying, reflecting, considering, thinking, wondering, praying, celebrating, spewing, planning, mourning, hating, hoping – all kinds of “ing” going on in the heads and hearts of people, “ing” from every hidden nook and cranny of the emotional landscape.

I’m processing the previous months’ events and all the current “ing” privately. There’s much I could say, but there’s far more that I need to hear, contemplate, and think on.

In the meantime, I find great reason to hope – and the reason lies far outside the realm of most of the current rhetoric.

It lies – to be precise – in the back of my church where on Sunday morning, a group of dads were wearing their babies. The picture’s a bit fuzzy, I know – maybe because it’s not often that a dad wearing a baby snaps a selfie with other dads also wearing babies. It’s not the standard fare of Virtual Stardom. Nor does it jive with the current discursive landscape.

Notice they are all smiling – dads-in-back-with-the-babies

Gracious, it surely does make my heart sing, my soul hope, my spirit rejoice, my mind relax, and my face break into a grin.

Dads in the back with their babies – not just with their babies, but wearing their babies. That’s an “ing” I’m going to dance about all week long. That’s an “ing” I’m all for.

[Coda: We closed the Sunday service reciting the well-known prayer of St. Francis of Assisi, everyone holding hands, across the seats and across the aisles – a room of people who assuredly have different views about all the recent “ing”s. We did it with full hearts, deep trust, abiding hope, and utter faith in the Father of us all, who not only made us and knows us but also wears us tightly bound to his chest. Even when all seems not well, all that matters is very well indeed. Amen.]

THANK YOU (a note to Young Life and WyldLife leaders everywhere)

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I love The Church.

I love Young Life.

(Much less than I love Jesus – but true love for both, nonetheless.)

During the past 15 years, in my work as a youth ministry trainer and cheerleader, I’ve said THANK YOU to countless youth pastors – thank you for loving our kids; thank you for all the unseen hours of ministry in your day; thank you from every parent who’s forgotten to say it, or who doesn’t understand why you do what you do; thank you from every adult in your congregation who watches from a safe (and often disinterested) distance; thank you from every teenager who grows up under your love and guidance; thank you for ushering in the next generation of The Church with dedication, energy, creativity, and passion; thank you for leaning in to your sacred calling with joy and grace; thank you for sticking with your vocation for the long race; thank you a thousand times over.

My single thank you can’t begin to express the true depth of those sentiments – but I offer it with sincerity.

During the past 25 years, in my role as a Young Life spouse (and other YL things), I’ve said THANK YOU to countless leaders – thank you for loving our kids; thank you for all the unseen hours of ministry in your day; thank you from every parent who’s forgotten to say it, or who doesn’t understand who you are and what you do; thank you from every adult in your community who watches from a safe (and often disinterested) distance; thank you from every teenager who sees and experiences the love of Jesus through you; thank you for believing that pursuing the most disinterested kid is worth your time; thank you for introducing teenagers to the God who created and loves them; thank you for leaning in to your sacred calling with joy and grace; thank you for sticking with your vocation for the long race; thank you a thousand times over.

My single thank you can’t begin to express the true depth of those sentiments – but I offer it with sincerity.

I also offer this – a real note from a real teenager written to a real person who was doing real ministry borne out of real passion flowing from real grace abiding in Real Love.

This camper articulated what countless kids truly experience but few actually express.

It’s good to reminded why you do what you do (because there are kids who need to be seen, noticed, befriended, loved, and introduced to the Savior). It’s good to remember what this ministry is really about (Jesus and teenagers…not me or us). It’s good to close your eyes and humbly remember that thank yous – as sweet as they are – aren’t the goal or the prize (that’s Jesus – always and only Jesus).

Even so, thank yous matter: so thank you. All of you. Each of you. A thousand times over. And more.

young-life-leader-card

[Young Life camper-written notecard, c. 2010. The leader’s name has been removed – but I sent that leader a picture of this card because, oh gracious, what depth of precious and sweet grace is wrapped up in these simple 25 words?! See your name in that big white space and ask Jesus to steer you towards the kids who currently feel as this one did, because that is who we are and what we do.]

 

 

Young Lives Day Two: 2,820 fingers and toes

ckirgiss3 Comments

There are 141 tinies and littles with us at camp this week. At about noon today, it dawned on me: that equates to 2,820 tiny fingers and little toes.

We are overwhelmed with digits.

How long has it been since you’ve seen or held tiny fingers or little toes? If you want to catch your breath with the wonder that is called life, baby fingers and toes are where it’s at. They are marvelous in their delicacy, astounding in their beauty, delightful in their miniature completeness.

These particular 2,820 fingers and toes are especially wonderful because we have been entrusted with their care for just a tiny sliver of time, six short days. We have been called to be the hands and feet of Jesus to the tinies and littles who are the embodiment of 2,820 fingers and  toes.

We get to gaze at these miracles every day and be awestruck by God’s love, God’s creation, God’s goodness, and God’s deep desire to welcome each and every one of his children home – children both young and old.

These 2,820 fingers and toes are a reminder of Who made us, Who loves us, and Whose we are. These wonders of creation are … well, quite frankly, they are unbelievable. Truly.

If the fingers and toes of a tiny or a little do not stop you in your tracks, reach deep into your soul, then catch and hold your heart, then it might be time to gaze at them a little more closely.

Photo: Crystal Kirgiss
Photo: Crystal Kirgiss
Photo: Crystal Kirgiss
Photo: Crystal Kirgiss
Photo: Crystal Kirgiss
Photo: Crystal Kirgiss

[Photos: Crystal Kirgiss, 2016, Timberwolf Lake]

Young Lives Camp, Day Zero: getting ready for mamas and babies

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[*note: Young Lives is the a Young Life ministry for teen mothers]

This week in Michigan, in a little tiny corner of the world known as Timberwolf Lake, a group of people are getting ready for the arrival of 100-plus teen mamas … and their babies.

Yesterday, one little tiny spot in this little tiny corner of the world looked like this:

YLives no strollers

It’s a lovely place indeed, a place where many people hear the beautiful truth about Jesus Christ and God’s love.

But this week, it’s especially beautiful, because this week, it looks like this:

YLives strollers

In one short day, this place – intended primarily for teenagers without babies – has been transformed into a place absolutely and perfectly and completely intended for teenagers with babies.

I wish I could describe the transformation. Pack-n-Plays, high-chairs, booster seats, napping cots, tricycles, bouncy chairs, swings, kiddie pools, blocks, toys, toys, toys, blankets, sheets, diapers, snacks, juice, rocking chairs, and so much more. It all must be unloaded, unpacked, sorted, washed, organized, and delivered to twelve – yes, twelve different nursery spaces.

But it’s always the strollers that get me – those colorful, joyful, inviting, ready-to-roll strollers. They are the first thing the mamas will see when they climb out of a car, van, or bus. The strollers, saying, “We are ready for you. We’ve been waiting for you. We welcome you. We love you.”

Those are powerful words for a young mama to hear.

But they are not the most important worlds they will hear this week. These are: you are loved by a God who is not just a father but also a mother, like –

an eagle who hovers over its young
a hen who gathers her chicks under her wings
a comforting mother
one who gives birth to the dew and the frost.

 

Most breathtaking of all, when in the very beginning God breathed the breath of life into humans and made them living creatures, he was like a mother, for that breath (neshamah) is derived from an older word nasham, a verb that means “to pant, especially of a woman in travail or labour.” It shows up in Isaiah 42:14 where the LORD, marching forth like a mighty hero, will say:

I have long been silent; yes, I have restrained myself. But now, like a woman in labor, I will cry and groan and pant.

The LORD – our father God – like a woman in labor.

Gracious. Mercy. Astounding.

This week, 100-plus young mamas are going to learn about that God – the God who loves them, the God who became human to demonstrate that love, the God who offers new life, the God who created all life, the God who breathes life into us, the God who hovers, gathers, comforts, and gives birth to all that is.

Bless the LORD, oh my soul, for being just exactly what and who each one of us needs.

 

 

 

 

Clearwater Cove Day 0

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CWC yl hands

In less than 24 hours, several hundred middle school students and leaders will descend on a sacred place in the Ozarks for the very first week of summer camp at Young Life’s Clearwater Cove.

Most of the world knows absolutely nothing about this.

But a very small sliver of the world – and all of God himself – knows very well what is about to happen here: fun, love, Jesus, grace, hope, and real life.

While much of society is bemoaning the current trends and behaviors of teenagers, twenty high school students have given up a month of their summer to willingly, enthusiastically, and joyfully serve middle school students at this sacred place nestled atop a mountain of rock. No joke. These people right here are people you should know. They are going to change the world – while they are still in HS – because they are serving the very God who made the world.

CWC work crew

In the midst of depressing headlines, deadly conflicts, and desperate situations, these twenty high schoolers (and 36 college students, and so many others) are choosing hope, life, love, joy, forgiveness, and transformation.

God does that. He gets hold of a person’s heart, flips it upside down and inside out, remakes it into something  alive, and sends it out into the wide world to be light and love, salt and sweet aromas, in order to draw others into his infinitely welcoming arms.

I don’t know what you’re doing this summer. But these folks here, and countless others like them across the US and the world, are doing something big and bold and beautiful: they are being obedient, they are being humble, they are serving, they are giving, they are considering others as more important than themselves – and because of that, God is going to do mighty things. I have no doubt.

Clearwater Cove, tucked away in a corner of God’s overwhelmingly breathtaking creation, is ready to fling wide open its doors and welcome teenagers to a week they will never forget. Gracious sakes – the work of celebration and the celebration of work have just begun, and for many people, life will never be the same again.

Five Rules for How to Use Media in Christian Education

ckirgiss2 Comments

We’ve all been there – whether planning a Sunday School lesson, a youth group meeting, or a Young Life club talk; that moment when we ask ourselves: “What video clip could really illustrate this point well, perhaps better than Scripture itself?”

It’s a deeply spiritual and philosophical question that is two-fold (when should and I use media and how should I use media) that often leads to deeply theological tangles (“Does Monty Python truly reflect the epistolary messages of Paul in their doctrinal fullness?”) that have no clear-cut answer (except in the case of Monty Python, when the answer is almost always “yes”).

To help with this distressing process of pedagogical discernment, I offer some much-needed insight from a little book I recently stumbled across:

Blackboard 1
The Blackboard in Sunday School (Henry Turner Bailey, 1899)

See here The Blackboard in Sunday School, published in 1899 – right on the heels of The Blackboard in the Sunday School, published in 1884 (because if one book about blackboard use by Christians is good, two is better).

In 1899, the blackboard was the height of advanced technology – in the church, anyway. It was pretty well established in every public and private school across the country for 50 years prior. But we do so often wait until we’re very sure that something can be used by the Lord before we appropriate it from the wicked world into our own sacred milieu.

The book opens with a properly spiritual hook, a tragic narrative about another adolescent boy gone wrong (a hooligan, a ruffian, a petty criminal), a boy who at one time had regularly attended Sunday School.

Bad boy. Bad Sunday School. Bad church. Woe unto us.

Enter: The Blackboard. (There’s a few more plot points in the narrative, but I’m condensing for ease of space and time, a strategy often used in presenting the Gospel.)

Per the author, in 1899:

“Among all the workers for the coming of the kingdom of God, none, perhaps, ought to be held in higher estimation than faithful Sunday-school teachers. As a rule they are among the busiest people in the world, every hour of the week filled with crowding duties, every volt of energy required to do that which their hands are forced to do by the conditions of our congested life. Yet these, who most need a Sabbath of rest, cheerfully devote that day to teaching, give to their classes their best thought, and patiently continue year after year a self-sacrificing service without remuneration, perhaps without a word of encouragement or appreciation.

“It would be cruel to add one straw to the burden such men and women are carrying, especially by a word of harsh or cold criticism. But sympathetic criticism is never unkind. The truth, spoken in love, and the truth only, will enable us to see ourselves and our work in clearer light and move us to self-improvement.” (24)

Then follows a long essay on why over-busy, under-appreciated, un-paid Sunday School teachers should learn how to use the blackboard.

[In fairness, the pedagogical premises in the book are solid: 1. Learning is dependent upon interest and attention; 2. Ideas must be taught by means of their appropriate objects; 3. Never tell a pupil what he may wisely be led to see for himself; 4. Proceed from the known to the related unknown; 5. Correlate with the life of the pupil.]

And then follows all a person needs to know about how to effectively use graphics and media to supplement and enliven the teaching of God’s truth.

  1. Use fonts purposefully:

blackboard fonts

2. Use emojis freely:

blackboard emojis

3. Use photo-editing judiciously:

blackboard photoshop effects

4. Use info-graphics intentionally:

blackboard infographic

5. Use visual data liberally:

blackboard visual data

Above all, remember this:

“The Sunday-school teacher who understand all mysteries and all knowledge, who speaks with the tongues of men and of artists, but who has not insight, good sense, wisdom in adapting means to ends, will fail…When the question of the week is not, ‘How shall I teach that lesson?’ but, ‘How can I find a blackboard illustration for that lesson?’ it is high time to ask another question: ‘Is it wise to use the blackboard every Sunday?’ The answer must be simply, No. Because one can use the blackboard is no reason for always using it…The blackboard should be a servant, not a taskmaster.” (88)

Thus do our ancestors whip our little media-frenzied technology-addicted butts into shape.

Amen.

Walking on Water: how we (maybe) got the story of Peter wrong

ckirgiss15 Comments

Like all adventurous, busy, do-big-things followers of Jesus, I love the story of Peter walking on water. Matthew 14:22-33 is a guaranteed slam-dunk sermon passage for me. It exhilarates me. Enlivens me. Emboldens me. Elevates me. (That’s a whole lot of me.)

YES! I’M READY! I’M WILLING! CALL ME OUT ONTO THE WATER, JESUS!

(Insert the lyrics for “Oceans” here.)

But four years ago, that all changed – not because of an outer tragedy or an inner crisis, but because I read the story very, very carefully – the story as it’s recorded in Scripture, not the story as I’ve learned to know it over the years.

I think that just maybe we’ve been missing something – something desperately important, especially in a culture that upholds and exalts Doing Very Big Things for Jesus.

CONTEXT:
Jesus had just fed thousands of people – 5000 men, plus women and children – with only five loaves of bread and two fish (for you grammarians, fishes if they were different species). He multiplied the food over and over and over, an endless bounty of simple sustenance, until everyone was fed and full. The disciples did the grunt work of distribution, passing and delivering the food to a sold-out crowd.

Even if there were only a 1:1:1 ratio of men, women, and children, each disciple still connected with over a thousand people – a thousand people who I am positively sure knew what was going on. A story like that doesn’t stay quiet. I suspect that after the first hundred or so people ate from the same loaf of bread and the same fish, the whispers started. Even without social media, stuff like that doesn’t go unshared.

On that day, the disciples had become the peoples’ visible connection with this manifold miracle. They are known. They are stupendous. They are really something. They are with the band. They ARE the band.

COMMAND:
Immediately after the people had been fed – right on the heels of burgeoning celebrity-hood for the disciples (who are with the band, who ARE the band) – Jesus insisted (aka commanded) them to
get back into the boat and
go back to the other side while
he sent the people away.

In other words: being with the band (being THE band) didn’t count for anything. No one would have a chance to shake their hands, tell them how awesome they were, snap a selfie (or a hundred) with them, ask for an autograph, whatever.

GET BACK IN THE BOAT AND GO BACK TO THE OTHER SIDE. Period.
I’LL stay with the people. I’LL take care of the people. I’LL send the people home. I’LL close out the miraculous day as I see fit. (That’s a lot of Jesus.)

You guys (“the band”) don’t need to worry about it. So long. See you soon. Trust me on this one.

Here’s the thing about the boat: it’s b-o-r-i-n-g. It’s drudgery. It’s the same-old-same-old. It’s the very thing some of the disciples had been called out of (praise the sweet Lord) in order to follow Jesus in the first place. It’s the world of fishing, smelliness, repetitive daily routine, seclusion, not-being-known-ness, not-being-with-the-band-ness.

The boat is not spectacular, stunning, astounding, adventurous, stupendous, or anything else that makes us feel fantastic and awesome.

The boat stinks. And maybe also sucks, depending on how the day is going.

CRISIS:
As if boring, stinky, nothingness weren’t bad enough, weather patterns turned traitor and the disciples – in the boat, not with the crowd, on the lake, not walking home with the people (where they could have, you know, talked about what a great day it had been) – are whomped by a storm. Far from land (which, by golly, is where they deserve want to be) they’re fighting heavy waves (and maybe also thinking, “Great job, Jesus – nice follow-up to the fish and loaves thing – the crowd undeservedly get fed with crumbs, and we undeservedly get whomped by wind. We cry foul.)

Isn’t that how it often seems to go? We do what Jesus says (even if it’s ridiculous and anti-self-serving) and then get whomped.

And if that weren’t bad enough, GHOSTS ON THE WATER!

COMFORT:
 Immediately (that word again, at just the right time) Jesus spoke to them.
Don’t be afraid.
Take courage.
It’s me.
I’m here.

(Say it over to yourself a few times. A few times more. Go on – it’s important.) Isn’t that just like Jesus? To gently speak words of comfort and calm to us, just when we are all tangled up with irritation, anger, and frustration with him?

“CALL”:
This is where the story gets good, where Jesus lays down the ultimate call and challenge to Peter (and us), where we stand on the precipice of magnificent courage and accomplishment, where we ready ourselves to become one of the great ones. (That’s a lot of we.)

This is where Jesus calls Peter out onto the water.

Except that it isn’t.

Rather, this is where Peter lays down the ultimate self-serving whomp on the God of the universe, the Jesus of bread and fishes, the Spirit of love and comfort. This is where Peter says:

Lord (read: you are trustworthy and deserving of my obedience…except that thing about getting back in the boat)

if it’s REALLY you (read: I hear your voice, I know your voice, but your voice recently told me to get back in the boat, so, you know…)

tell me (read: I’d prefer a different narrative, a better life story, hence I will use the Greek word that means “command” here because I want it to be that strong, that definite, that anti-the-thing-you-previously-told-me-to-do)

to come to you, walking on the water (read: though it serves absolutely no one except myself and has no purpose beyond – well, nothing – I feel inclined to do something that only God can do like, well, let’s go with walking on water, shall we?).

Let’s review:
1. Get back in the boat.
2. Go to the other side.
3. Don’t be afraid.
4. Take courage.
5. It’s me and I’m here.
6. If it’s really you…

Here’s the thing about Jesus: if we are determined to climb out of the boat into which he has commanded us, and to walk in the direction opposite of which he sent us, and to attempt something that only God Almighty himself can do – he lets us. 

Jesus might have thought something like this:
Okay Peter. I know what’s going on here. I see what you’re struggling with. I know the disappointment you’re carrying. I understand your weakness. Sigh. This is going to be disastrous – but I will not force you into anything you won’t willingly do, so come on out. (Brace yourself, Peter – remember this is what you wanted, Peter – ready yourself for what is logically going to happen next, Peter – .)

SINK:
(Yes, I know it doesn’t start with a ‘c’ – some words just don’t. “Crash and burn” is too aeronautical. Metaphorical conundrums are a real thing.)

What a surprise. What an unexpected turn of events. What a shocking plot development.

Peter – the man, the fully-and-only-human human being, the both non-divine and non-aquatic one – sinks.

Do you know what the story doesn’t say? It doesn’t say, “When he took his eyes off Jesus.” Nowhere. Really. It just says:

“When he saw the strong wind and the waves… (if the storm were as bad as the story says, Peter would have seen the strong wind and waves without ever taking his eyes off Jesus. They were all around him. Everywhere. So much so that seasoned veteran fisherman were troubled and afraid. They may have obscured his view of Jesus, but they didn’t overpower his view.)

“…he was terrified…” (No kidding. Of course he was terrified. He was stepping out onto water. This might have been the first common-sense thing Peter did that night – to acknowledge the vey real terror of that moment because, newsflash, he was a human and humans weren’t created to walk on water.

“…and began to sink.” (See above.)

COMFORT (the sequel):
Immediately (that word again – almost like Jesus is right there all along, knowing just what we’ll need and just when we’ll need it) Jesus reached out and grabbed him, almost like he knew this was going to happen, in which case my response (were I the son of God and Savior of the world) might have been something like:

Peter, you got what you asked for.
Peter, this is a logical consequence of your choice, so think about that for a minute.
Say you’re sorry, Peter – 490 times, please (that’s 70 x 7 in case you can’t do the math).
Let’s reflect for a moment on what really happened here, Peter, shall we?
Et cetera. (I am a mother and have a deep reservoir of similarly witty phrases.)

Jesus did and said none of that. He just reached out and saved him. Immediately. Even though Peter deserved what he got. Even though Peter was as stubborn and self-serving as a mule. Even though Peter was as short-sighted as whatever creature is short-sighted.

Fact: Peter deserved to sink, maybe not because of insolence, but surely because of stupidity.

Further fact: Don’t we all?

CORRECTION:
The story could have gone like this:

Then Jesus said to the other disciples in the boat, “Let’s discuss Peter’s actions. Who can tell me where he made his fatal mistake? James? John? Anyone?”

Or it could have gone like this:

Then Jesus turned away from Peter and pretended nothing had happened. Rather, he ignored him for the next hour (rightfully so) and let him stew in his own miserable smallness and inflated self-importance.

Or maybe this:

Then Jesus said, “That’s it, Peter. I’m done with your petty, thoughtless, impulsive, Peter-centered way of living. You may get bonus points for enthusiastic energy, but you get an F for everything else. When this boat gets to the other side, you’re outta here.”

But of course it didn’t happen like that.

It happened like this:

Holding him tightly, hauling him up from under the pounding waves, and dragging him back to the safety of the boat, Jesus said to Peter, “You have so little faith. Why did you doubt me?”

After following Jesus for a lifetime and knowing the Bible like the back of my hand, I was very sure the story said: “Why did you doubt that I could make you walk on water? Why did you doubt that you could do something so stupendous and spectacular and adventurous and world-changing? Why, Peter, why???”

But it doesn’t. It just says, “Why did you doubt?” And I think Jesus meant:

Why did you doubt I was who I said who I was?
Why did you doubt that I would protect you in the storm?
Why did you doubt that when I said “Get back in the boat and go back to the other side” that was really what I wanted you to do?
Why, Peter, why??

I hate the boat. I have lots of them, and to varying degrees, I want nothing more than to climb out of them so that I can do Big Things for God. I’m pretty positive that’s what he wants of me.

But I’m learning – very slowly, which is how I do most things in life – to live in the boat contentedly, peacefully, intentionally, joyfully even. Not because I’m afraid to step out of it – but because I’m inclined to step out of it for all the wrong reasons. I’m a chronic boat-climber-outer. That’s a real thing.

Here’s what I’ve learned over the past few years (because I was too smart and too thick-headed to learn it before that):

‘In the boat, going to the other side’ is where most of life happens – in the mundane, day in and day out routines of life.

‘In the boat, going to the other side’ is not the same old same old if it’s done with an obedient heart and a joyful spirit. It’s only the same old same old when done with a bitter, constricted, petty, discontented spirit that is typically human-centered.

We all desire to do big things for God. Really Big And Awesome Things. We assume this requires us to be brave (Yes! I will! I am! I am better than Peter!) and we assume that being brave means climbing out of the boat onto the stormy sea.

Maybe that’s not brave. Maybe that’s just stupid. And self-serving. And disobedient.

Maybe the real courage happens there – in the boat – where God has placed us – where nothing “Big” happens – where we don’t keep trying to write a better story of our lives because we are busy living the life God has given us – where no one sees us or applauds us or notices us or follows us or says, “Oh my, look at her! Look at him! What a sight! Gracious, aren’t they grand?!”

Maybe the real question isn’t, “When God calls you out of the boat, will you be courageous enough to go?” but rather, “When God commands you into the boat, will you be obedient enough to stay?”

Keeping God in a box: or, maybe paradigms aren’t the problem

ckirgiss3 Comments

In the 60s and 70s, Thomas Kuhn challenged the scientific world to make some paradigm shifts. This was simplified to phrases like “shaking things up” and “challenging the status quo.” Soon thereafter, the church grabbed the bait and decided she needed to shift some paradigms of her own – which she determined (with the help of the world’s opinion) had atrophied over time.

In the 70s and 80s, management gurus challenged the business world to think outside the box. This was simplified to soundbites like “taking a new angle” and “looking through a new lens.” Soon thereafter, the church caught the bug and decided it was time to stop putting God in a box – which she determined (with the help of media outlets) she’d been doing for a long while.

I’m not entirely convinced that the original diagnoses of stuck-in-the-mud paradigms and God-boxing were fully correct, at least not to any greater degree than normal. Stuck paradigms and God-boxing are part and parcel of living in the Kingdom while inhabiting a finite earth. They are tendencies we must continually recognize and counter.

But I wonder if – in our efforts to absorb the scientific and business models, and in our desire to prove the world and media outlets wrong – some of us have gone far past merely countering the paradigms and boxes. I wonder if – in our desire to be both edgy and smart, both sophisticated and trendy – some of us have ditched the paradigm and the box entirely, leaving the church bereft of any structure, form, and definition, not perhaps in its daily practices but in its underlying foundation. In other words, I am not primarily talking about worship style and programmatic practices. I am talking about the stuff that really  matters: dogma; doctrine; theology; catechetical truths. Stuff that at least some people hate to consider and loath discussing.

I am the last person who wants to be associated with something trite, obtuse, provincial, or stale. Certainly I do not want my church – The Church – to be any of those things.

But what if trite, obtuse, provincial and stale are merely lexical stabs at what is in fact unchanging, simple, solid, and true? What if the reaction to trite, obtuse, provincial and stale leads not to deeper discipleship but to a dismantling of the framework of our faith?

[On a side note: trite, obtuse, provincial and stale are flung just as readily by The Important Voices on contemporary non-denominational congregations as on traditionally liturgical congregations. Equal opportunity disdain is prolific.]

As foolish and backwards as it may sound, I believe that ditching the box and shifting the paradigm – which has occurred in all manner of congregations – has done serious damage to Christianity. It has opened the door for each one of us to define God, Christ, salvation, redemption, reconciliation, transformation, sacrifice, and obedience as we choose – per our own box, via our own paradigms.

It has not been a healthy experiment.

“Putting God in a box” started as a cliche in Christendom, often directed at people whose faith was too little and too small to believe that the Almighty Creator could do whatever He wanted, wherever He chose, at whatever time He determined – though I’m a bit fuzzy on how one person actually determined that another person’s faith was too little and too small.

Today, “putting God in a box” has become a straw man. It is a way of telling people that if they are not open to an ever-evolving theology, they are frigidians of the faith. It is a strategy for pronouncing people’s beliefs to be narrowly anti-intellectual. It is a tool for defining certain congregations as unwilling to embrace God in all his mysterious and adventurous majesty.

That little church on the corner that is dying a slow death because they do not understand how to attract youth? – they are putting God in a box by not embracing his love for all ages.

That megachurch down the street that livestreams its sermons and runs programs every night of the week? – they are putting God in a box by limiting his transformative work to something that can be planned and implemented.

That mid-size mainline church across town that eschews newer worship music in favor of traditional hymns? – they are putting God in a box by refusing to celebrate his full artistic expression.

That average-size evangelical church across the street that eschews hymns in favor of new worship music? – they are putting God in a box by refusing to embrace the strong traditions of history.

That’s what they – someone, somewhere – says.

Guess what? We all put God in a box. We all understand less of Him than we can because – surprise – our brains are small and our souls are even smaller. We all limit what God can do, if not in holiness then in scope: on one hand we say God is infinitely powerful, beyond all human comprehension while on the other we say He cannot possibly be working in those people over in that church. Apparently that is too much for Him.

I think God might prefer if we stop worrying so much about the proverbial boxes and paradigms and instead focus on Him.

But as we focus on Him, it is eminently important to have a paradigm of truth upon which to stand and a box of doctrine within which to practice our faith.

Doctrine does not box God in. Rather it helps us understand him clearly and rightly. Without it, we are doomed. Doctrine does not limit God. Rather it gives us a framework within which to experience and understand God’s immensity. Without it, we are unanchored. Doctrine does not reduce God. Rather it provides an elegant space of sacred intellect that allows us to stand in awe of Him. Without it we ourselves become smaller than we already are.

We desperately need a paradigm of strong theology and a box of solid doctrine. We need them to guard and expand our faith. We need them to shelter and shape our souls. We need them to protect and engage our minds.

Without them, God will shrink to little more than a man-made power whose sole purpose is to serve our whims and desires.

With them, God will become more and more known to us even as he becomes more and more mysterious; God will become more and more near to us even as he becomes more and more immense; God will become more and more holy even as he becomes more and more personal.

Only within an unshifting paradigm of strong theology and a strong box of unshifting doctrine can we hope to glimpse God as He really is rather than as we make Him. And I’m quite sure that what we will find with each passing day is that within the paradigm and the box, God will grow ever and ever larger in our understanding until finally we see that what is on the inside is in fact much, much larger than what we originally thought was on the outside.

**Dorothy Sayers – though primarily a scholar of Dante and creator of Lord Peter Wimsey – has some beautifully elegant thoughts about this. See her essays “The Dogma is the Drama,” “Strong Meat,” “Creed or Chaos,” et al.

Meeting God Where He Isn’t Supposed to Be: in which I visit one of “those” churches

ckirgiss2 Comments

While traveling Way Down South recently I visited a church that, were it to be measured against the standards of today’s loudest progressively sympathetic Christian voices, should have been fully devoid of the One True God, the Resurrected Son, and the Holy Spirit.

It had no stained glass. No middle aisle. No pews. No hymnals. No narthex. No prayer labyrinth. No organ. No choir. No robes. No passing of the peace. No Eucharist. No liturgy. No church-calendar readings. No congregational responses. No worship folder. None of the things, in fact, that 50 years ago people poo-poohed en masse as being the killers of real faith, only to now become the frame from which people poo-pooh the other end of the tunnel from whence they recently evolved.

Instead, this church had a coffee bar. Comfy lounge chairs. Three large screens. Two Hollywood-caliber cameras. A sound-booth. Head-sets. Stage. Stage lights. Fog machine. Full band (contemporary worship, mind you; not marching or concert). Plexiglass cage for the drums. Projected lyrics. Advertising-flyer style bulletins. Lots of denim. Lots of middle-aged white people.

But: also lots of non-middle-aged non-white people. Lots. Lots of people who should obviously know better than to attend a non-traditional non-sacramental non-denominational pseudo-psycho-church that caters to contemporary styles and issues in a way that leeches the gospel dry of all its power and beauty and meaning while also robbing the kingdom of its beautiful diversity and mystery.

Right? We all know that churches like this have sold their souls to something devilish, have nothing of substance to offer anyone, and are entirely bereft of anything sincere, heartfelt and holy.

We know this because people have told us this. In no uncertain terms. Over and over and over again.

This church was so obviously the quintessential failure of 21st-century Christendom – nothing but a deep pit of hypocrisy hiding behind a shallow facade of religiosity guaranteed to suck the very life out of any who are stupid enough to cross its threshold.

And if that weren’t bad enough, the preacher was a partially balding white dude with a hipster goatee, wearing distressed jeans and a dress shirt, both untucked at the bottom and unbuttoned at the top, who started his sermon with a funny personal anecdote. Somewhere out there, his name is probably entered into The Book of Those Who Are Inherently Patriarchal and Entirely Obtuse (especially in regards to all significant social issues of both his immediate context and the larger world; tantamount to a Pharisee of the worst kind even on the best of days).

Here clearly was a full-blown loser of a church, a gathering of people that exemplify all that is sickly wrong with God’s kingdom today.

So you can imagine my surprise when I noticed the congregation’s diversity, both in age and ethnicity; you can imagine my shock when, after parking in some remote out-lot, the middle-aged white guy who stopped to offer me a ride in the official people-mover turned out to be quiet, kind, self-unimportant, and entirely gracious; you can imagine my confusion when the loud and foggy stage music was overshadowed by the passionately engaged voices around me; you can imagine my bewilderment when the (obviously self-centered, attention-seeking, power-hungry) preacher opened his Bible to the book of Luke and began reading, then exegeting, the Holy Scriptures; you can imagine my surprise when I heard about the various satellite campuses, each with its own distinct preaching pastor (because, um, Livestream of the Famous Guy?), each committed to the spiritual formation of its younger members; you can imagine my disbelief when there was not a single mention of the straight-to-hell-ness of certain members of society; you can imagine my incredulity when the pastor asked for personal responses (while eyes were closed and heads were bowed) just once before quickly moving into a meditative benediction; you can imagine my skepticism when there was not a single self-promoting self-congratulating self-righteous declarative pronouncement from the front (or back or side for that matter).

And I hope you can imagine my delight and joy when I met and sensed and heard from God at that supposedly God-forsaken place, worse (they say) than all other God-forsaken places precisely because of its claim to being God-centered. You can imagine my deep satisfaction at having worshipped in spirit and in truth in that warehouse-ish block of a building that is (they say) obviously bereft of anything sacred or profound. You can imagine my humble chagrin at having realized I was not in a church that is (they say) indubitably infused with deep levels of insincerity that beckons and then subsumes the vapid souls of its automaton members.

I hope you can also imagine my utter self-disappointment and disgust when I realized I’d been ready to blindly accept the well-crafted and distinguished-sounding words of a few people who project the intellectual ability and spiritual discernment to accurately pronounce scathing judgements on all the other people.

Perhaps one of the things that is most wrong with the church today is how swiftly and thoroughly so many of us are willing to loudly point out what is most wrong with the church today. (Perhaps that is exactly what I am doing here…)

There will always be things wrong with the church. Always. There will always be need for honest examination by individuals and selfless reformation by congregations. Always. There will always be a journey of additional sanctification and wider revival. Always.

But I doubt whether we need many more analyses, diagnoses, assessments, or indictments of the Church-at-Large. There is plenty of ill-will to go around already. What we need is more evangel, in doses and degrees that only the Spirit can provide, and only when the people of the church invite and embrace it.

Let’s get to it, shall we?