Spiritual Devolution

I often hear people speak of the deconstruction of their Christian faith as spiritual evolution. When I hear that title given to it, I wonder, what if it is actually spiritual devolution?

Why do we always think that any movement is forward? Or that going forward is always progress? Or that we are always nearing the correct destination?

What if we are actually just getting more lost?

Why is it that simple faith, clear convictions, unwavering obedience to Jesus’ commands, and white-hot passion for him is the embarrassment? What if this is the real embarrassment: the palatable, shape-shifting, powerless Jesus that we call thinking clearly?

What if fifteen-year-old you was closer to the centre than you think?

Maybe it is worth deconstructing our deconstruction sometimes, instead of just assuming we took down the right building and built a better one.

Maybe not all growth is good growth, and not all movement leads you home.

When Words Fail

How do you speak of One of whom no human word or words can contain? One who says rightfully and rhetorically of Himself, “To whom will you compare me?” (Is. 40.25)

I guess you try to go beyond words. Use words to point to something infinitely further.

He is great like nothing else is great. Greater than the greatest that anything or anyone ever will be. He is the mountain range that towers over top of the Himalayas. The light that shines brighter than the brightest stars wrapped around the sun and shining at their brightest. He is that series of notes strung together, more beautiful, melodic, poetic and angelic than our brains can register, than our ears can even hear. He is the colours that sit on a canvas that our eyes aren’t even capable of seeing, much less our minds capable of understanding what it is we see.

He is simply infinitely greater than all that the language of greatness can convey. Maybe that is why John resorted to speaking in precious stones, “And he who sat there had the appearance of jasper and carnelian, and around the throne was a rainbow that had the appearance of an emerald” (Revelation 4.3)

Economy of Generosity

The apostle Paul’s parting words to the Ephesian elders: “In all things I have shown you that by working hard in this way we must help the weak remember the words of the Lord Jesus, how he himself said, ‘It is more blessed to give than to receive’ (acts 20.35). Could Jesus (or Paul) say anything more counter cultural to our culture today, particularly that last part? We might not like to admit it but practically speaking, don’t most of us live as if the opposite is true? That it is more blessed to receive than to give?

The materialism that invades our lives is not about how many material items one is able to distribute but how many he/she is able to accumulate. The aim of the American dream is not about another person’s prosperity but about one’s own. And its not about one’s own prosperity for the sake of enriching other people’s lives, its about prosperity for the sake of enriching one’s own life.

Yet clearly, based on Paul’s quotation of Jesus, God’s economy works so radically different than ours. It always about the other. It’s always about giving over receiving. And ironically its in this upside-down economy of generosity that one finds himself/herself truly blessed. Or according to the Swiss theologian Karl Barth’s favourite translation of blessed, the one who gives rather than receives is truly the lucky bum.

Momentary Affliction

One of our key tactics as humans for enduring times of suffering is thinking about that suffering in terms of its duration. Before the dentist jabs his patient’s gums with a needle, he says, “This will only hurt for a moment.” The sleep deprived parents of newborn twins tell one another, “This is just a season.” The coach encourages his straining, sweating athletes by yelling, “Keep going, your almost done! Your almost there!” There is something powerful about knowing that something is not forever and that there is an end in sight. It just gives you an ability to endure things that are hard to endure. You can find a motivation to get to the finish line because you know that then there will be a level of relief once you cross it.

In 2 Corinthians, when the apostle Paul speaks of suffering for Jesus’ sake, he calls it this: “Light momentary affliction” (2 Cor 4.17). He goes on to say some extraordinary things directly after this phrase, unpacking what he means by it, though I would like to pay attention just to that phrase itself for a moment and specifically to the word ‘momentary.’

It is clear from his letter to the Corinthians that Paul is undergoing a lot of pain for the Gospel. He writes things like, “For we were so utterly burdened beyond our strength that we despaired of life itself” (2 Cor 1.8), and “We who live are always being given over to death for Jesus’ sake” (2 Cor 4.11). And yet incredibly, he endures. He writes, only a few verses later, “So we do not lose heart” (2 Cor 4.16). But how? How does he not lose heart? How does Paul endure so joyfully?

At least one answer is that he interprets his suffering in terms of its duration. He understands that it is momentary. Now to that you might rightfully say, “How is it momentary Paul? It seems to be nonstop.” To which I think the apostle Paul would say, “It is momentary compared to eternity.”

Imagine if there was waiting for you an unending and infinite time of relief. And not just relief but an infinite time of infinite joy. An eternity of worshipping the One worthy of worship. An eternity of knowing the One you were created to know. An eternity of dwelling in the presence of the almighty God. What is a lifetime compared to an eternity? It’s a moment. More than that, what is a lifetime of suffering compared to an eternity of joy? It’s a moment.

Even if the rest of Paul’s human life was to be unrelenting pain and suffering for the sake of the Gospel, he understood that compared to the relief that was coming for him, that pain and suffering was momentary. Compared to eternity, it would be over in a flash.

The reality for Christians today is the same as it was for Paul, that there really is waiting for us after the race is over an eternity of infinite joy in the presence of our Creator. Which means that no matter what we suffer in this life for the sake of Christ; no matter how long it goes on for, what was true of Paul’s suffering is true of ours as well: that in comparison to eternity, it is momentary.

It is light momentary affliction that is preparing for you an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison.

This will only hurt for a moment. Its just a season. Keep going, your almost done! Your almost there! So do not lose heart.

Easy Christianity

It is truly wild how seemingly easy we have made Christianity in the West. We have crafted this version of Christianity (which is really no Christianity at all) that requires so little effort. You don’t have to get your knees scraped or your hands dirty; you barely need to break a sweat. You almost don’t even need the power of the Holy Spirit. You just accept Jesus into your heart, then proceed to do your private devotions each day, sit in a church once a week like you’re at the movie theatre, try not to curse in public and maybe send some money out to a few different charities. I mean there is probably a little more to it then that in most people’s minds, but at the same time, maybe not.

I remember N.T. Wright wrote in a commentary on Mark some years ago, “Jesus is not leading us on a pleasant afternoon hike, but on a walk into danger and risk. Or did we suppose that the Kingdom of God would mean merely a few minor adjustments in our ordinary lives?” I think that is exactly what many of us think Jesus is leading us on these days, a pleasant afternoon hike that means little more than a few minor adjustments to our otherwise ordinary lives. Again, I say it is wild because just like N.T. Wright is highlighting, nothing could be more contrary to what Jesus is actually calling His disciples to then that.

Take one verse. It is a short and simple verse and its one that caught my attention this morning and reminded me once again how uncomfortable and dangerous the Christian life is and also how impossible it is without the Spirit’s power. It is 1 Corinthians 10.24. Paul is addressing the Corinthian Church on eating food in the marketplace, i.e., is food sacrificed to idols, and he sums up his instructions to them with this command: “No one should seek their own good, but the good of others.”

Did you hear that? Well maybe read it again to make sure you are picking up what Paul is putting down. Do not seek your own good, but the good of others. That is a crazy command! How is that even possible to do consistently? How do you do that without adjusting your whole life? Now just in case your knee jerk reaction is to say that that statement pertains only to the situation Paul is addressing in 1 Corinthians, take note of two other places that such a command comes up: Romans 15.1-2, “We who are strong have an obligation to bear with the failings of the weak, and not to please ourselves. Let each of us please his neighbour for his good, to build him up,” and Philippians 2.4, “Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others.”

The interesting thing about all of these references is that they are all rooted in the person of Jesus. In every one of these references Paul gives the command, then points to Jesus as the example of one who truly walked out this command, and then he tells the crowd that he is writing to, “Now imitate Christ.” Well to be completely accurate, in 1 Corinthians specifically he follows up the command by saying, “Be imitators of me as I am of Christ,” but you get the point. This command comes from the example of the person of whom Christians are disciples of. In other words, there is no getting around it. The command to put others needs before our own is a universal command for disciples of Jesus everywhere. This is a slice of what it means to follow Him.

When I really think about it, I am not sure that I could find a more difficult ethic to walk out then this one. I mean come on, no one naturally seeks the good of their neighbour before the good of themselves, or at least not all the time. Its impossible. But I think that is kind of the point. As Jesus once told His disciples while speaking of another impossible part of the Christian life, “With man this is impossible, with God all things are possible” (Matthew 19.26).

If you have found some version of Christianity that doesn’t make you frequently think, “How can I even do that?!” then I would guess you have found something that is not Christianity at all. The reality found in the pages of Scripture is that Jesus is not calling us to an afternoon hike, but instead is calling us into danger and risk. He is calling us into an innumerable amount of uncomfortable adjustments to our otherwise ordinary lives. Jesus never calls His disciples into an easy Christianity, instead He calls them into the kind of lives that can only be lived through the power of his Holy Spirit; the kind of lives that make little of themselves and instead make much of the needs of others so that in turn they make much of Jesus Christ.