Saturday, September 11, 2010

Stillness vs. Idleness

Because I often feel either afraid of stillness or guilty for spending my time in it, I'm writing this blog in case the struggle is familiar. I think it is a primary battle in our world: to have ears to hear and eyes to see.


Stillness is a discipline of faith. Stillness is believing that God's words and presence are worth paying attention to. Often we are afraid to be truly still before God in case we find that he 1. doesn't speak or else 2. speaks things we do not wish to hear. What if his voice is absent or cruel? It is an act of deep trust to truly cease our activities, our striving, our own filling of space and wait in stillness for Jesus' voice.


I remember reading that the purpose of all the spiritual disciplines is to empty ourselves completely so that there would be living room for God to speak into - to inhabit. In spiritual disciplines we intentionally create a void that our false-selves and all the voices of the world have previously inhabited. That void, once allowed, hungers for the Creator's voice to speak. Psalm 104:30 says, "When you send your Spirit, they are created, and you renew the face of the earth."


How many other voices are competing to 'create' the substance of our lives? And what good have all those voices done for the work of renewal or redemption in this world?


Idleness, on the other hand, is an act of faith-less-ness. Idleness is believing that nothing can be done, there is nothing worth believing in or fighting for, no vision of hope worth working toward. So in hopeless apathy we stagnate or indulge in all the destructions of mere distraction. When life loses all lustre we sink into lust. It is when we loose all sensitivity that we become captives of sensuality.


"But I feel irresponsible when I try to be still. I feel like I should be doing something." I've spent much of the last ten years struggling with this question of what is valuable to God and what it is to be truly responsible toward the call to follow Jesus. I've found that being still, creating space, gathering attentiveness, listening, waiting, dwelling, prayer and the like are actually quite hard work - especially in our culture where we tend to qualify the validity of our lives by the degree to which we can keep up with machine-like productivity and efficiency (the emptiness of so-called success).


All truly worthy work is borne forth as an embodiment of the small, slow, whisper of God found only in stillness. It may be that even when God speaks at his loudest we can fail to hear him. Are hard-heartedness and lack of stillness the same thing?


Stillness or Listening is a response to a God who is speaking. I've been noticing the past several months the incessant emphasis throughout the Scriptures to listen to God. Yet we feel irresponsible when we 'stop getting things done' so we can listen. If that's the case, then 'getting things done' is what's irresponsible. That is a life of failing to respond to the Speaking God. Idleness then may actually manifest as busyness. They might as well be the same thing since they are both ways that we either disbelieve the value of anything God might say or avoid communication because there are things that feel more productive (important).


The values of God are moving in the complete opposite direction from the values of the world. That's why repentance (completely turning around) brings us face to face with the Kingdom of Jesus. Isaiah 30:15 says:


"This is what the Sovereign LORD, the Holy One of Israel, says: 'In repentance and rest is your salvation, in quietness and trust is your strength, but you would have none of it.' "


If we were machines there would be no real need to do much listening. There would also be no need for beauty, tenderness, laughter, craftsmanship, poetry, song, embracing, aromas, moonlight, kindness, weeping, dancing, and on and on. Busyness doesn't make us more human, neither does idleness. Stillness, listening, losing track of time in love for something True, the deeply beautiful inefficiency of relationship - these are some of the reasons God spoke lovingly into the eager, attentive void.


Wednesday, September 8, 2010

Bike rides and Bloody Noses

My roommates were up before 5am and therefore so was I. Not being able to get back to sleep, I decided to spend the rest of the morning at the local coffee shop. I read some Seamus Heaney, some Malcolm Guite, Luke chapter 4, and I meant to read some of The Lord of the Rings. But mostly I eavesdropped on other people's conversations, drank coffee, and ate an amazing turkey and cheddar croissant (1200 flaky pastry layers, people).


A university professor and two students discussed how religion was the uncredited and single most formative force motivating all historical activity. I listened as they traced the sad and taut line of Bible interpretation abuse during the civil war period. How do we use the Bible to support our own agendas? How do we conform God to our image rather than laying ourselves down to be transformed into his?


I was there for nearly four and a half hours listening to several groups of people. I was amazed at how literally every conversation I heard eventually gravitated toward questions about the Bible, Jesus, Church, and relationships in the context of faith. I started noticing repeating themes of frustration about: a lack of strong conviction and trust in Scriptural communication, lack of humanness and intimacy in large or modern churches, and a lack of rootedness and depth in specific Christian meaning.


I listened as the list was repeated with positive examples: "I love the close, simple, intimate feel", "I want to know the specifics of what we believe and why we believe it, I love theology", "He preaches the truth even if it's uncomfortable", "I want to know what the Bible really means", "I miss the old hymns and prayers". And so on.


I read a quote recently from an article about why the upcoming generation is not committing itself to Christ. The gist was that we're not giving them anything substantial enough to grab a hold of. My favorite quote was this, " We think they want cake, what they really want is steak and potatoes, but we just keep giving them cake."


In an effort to be 'sensitive' to those we want to bring into Jesus' Kingdom we've just become people pleasers who sigh out a message so vaporous and innocuous that the people who actually are seeking for something solid to believe in find nothing substantial, specific, or definite enough to merit any meaningful commitment. Too often the church is functioning like a business - we want to create a product that will please the largest number of people so we can make the most money so we can afford to feel successful. And in order to please the largest number of people you must edit the Gospel till it's so vague and allegorical and personally malleable so anyone can shape it to their needs rather than be shaped by it. Chesterton wrote (and later Rich Mullins sang) of the Creed, "I did not make it, no it is making me."


My main point though is that we're fooling ourselves into thinking that people want this generally moral, self-help, business-model Christianity. Actually they don't. They want something with definition, specificity, clearly outlined context, vision, mission, meaning, even tradition and liturgy. People are so hungry for something to provide a stark contrast to the rest of the world. A Kingdom of Heaven. They long for a place that feels foreign to them or makes them uncomfortable as long as it is true. Those who are truly seeking are seeking something that wont pull any punches, they are looking for a God who will shape them, a great King and Lord who, like Rich Mullins said, "will bloody your nose then give you a ride home on his bike".