I’ve been reading a fun little mystery novel lately that’s been enjoyable, but no more. And then today during my lunch, I ran across a conversation between the “detective” priest and a nun that really resonated with me. Their conversation deals with how each of them came to dedicate their lives to the church as young adults. The nun, in particular, shares her personal journey as a young, devoted nun who eventually left the cloister to live in Seville, still keeping her vows and living her faith and not renouncing her order, but not living the typical nun’s life. As I read her story, something she said really resonated with me because it summed up so perfectly a core element of my personal spiritual journey to where I am now.
She says, “What can a nun do when she realizes, at age forty, that she’s still the same little girl dominated by her father? A child who, out of intense desire not to displease him, not to commit any sin, has committed the even greater sin of not really living her own life. Is it wise, or is it stupid and irresponsible, at eighteen, to renounce worldly love, and with it trust, surrender, sex? What is a woman to do when these feelings come too late?”
In her case, the father was her biological father, but in mine it was God as my Father. Now, of course, I don’t feel He ever “dominated” me, but the rest of what she says is spot on. Out of my intense desire not to displease Him, not to commit any sin, I committed the greater sin of not living my own life, of not daring to make a mistake and need His grace, of not spreading my wings and taking flight into the wonderful mystery of my truest dreams and passions. For so many years I tried so hard to be so good, and I never felt truly satisfied that my standards of “good” (which I also thought were His standards) had been met. Like her, I devoted myself while I was too young to really understand that I was renouncing my life. Not that I think renouncing one’s life for Jesus is a bad thing or a waste. But I think that, in my case at least, the life I renounced was more what I thought He wanted, not what He was actually looking for. And then as time went on and my devotion didn’t produce the wholeness I sought and my deeper passions started to surface, and my idea of what a meaningful life would look like began to really take shape, the reality of what I had found began to truly pale.
Let me put this in more concrete terms in the hope that it will make more sense. When I first dedicated my life, I knew in my heart that God had a special purpose for my life. I knew that I was “called” and created for something special. That part I still believe was from Him, and I don’t doubt that it’s still true. But back then, I was afraid of making a mistake or doing something wrong or exploring all that was around me, so I automatically assumed that the purpose I sensed was a call to full-time ministry, which in my mind, for a number of years, meant marrying a pastor, missionary or evangelist and serving faithfully by his side. As time went on, my understanding of ministry and the possible role I might have in it began to change. I was less focused on what my theoretical husband was called to do, though it wasn’t off my radar, and more aware of what my role might look like. However, I still saw us as working in a “full-time ministry” type of capacity. Wrapped up in all of this, of course, was my rigid sense of right and wrong, black and white. I lived a really good life and was constantly striving to live a better one. I didn’t do all the things good Christians weren’t supposed to do: swear, drink, have sex, smoke, do drugs, watch TV, fraternize with unbelievers, wear revealing clothes, indulge too much in thoughts about worldly pursuits, etc. I studied my Bible and read only Christian books and listened to nothing but praise and worship music. Even most regular Christian music was too frivolous. Only praise and worship would do. I had a calling and a destiny, and the only way to get there was too live an absolutely pure life, completely unsoiled by the filth of the world. How I expected to understand the needs of those I thought I was supposed to minister to, I don’t know. I certainly had no concept of the issues they were dealing with, but I just knew that the only way to be used of God was to be as unworldly as possible.
As I got into my late twenties, I started feeling a longing for adventure. I discovered a deep love of hiking, and as I continued to hike, I found a desire to be adventurous and explore my world. I also found that I really felt a drive to get to know “unbelievers” on a really deep, personal level. I wanted to be a part of their lives, helping them, strengthening them, being a true friend. And while all these new things were springing up in me, I was struggling with my own dissatisfaction and disillusionment, which I’ve shared about in the past. All that seeking and striving and longing and reaching had yielded a tiny fraction of the relationship I had longed to find with God. I was bone dry, empty, and losing hope. I realized I had spent most of my twenties waiting for God to jumpstart my life – the life I was convinced He wanted for me – and I was about to bump into thirty with nothing to show for any of it.
That’s when I started making mistakes and realizing that it was okay. I started feeling the undeniable internal demand to start living before it was too late. And I’m still trying to do that. I haven’t forsaken my God, though a lot of traditional folks would think so. I haven’t forgotten Him, and I haven’t stopped talking to Him. I still don’t want to displease Him, but I’m no longer so dominated by that desire that I don’t live my life. Some people would say that sounds like rebellion, and to them I’m sure it does, but honestly it’s more about being a child, free to grow and learn and make mistakes. Free to make choices and fall down and get up. Free to rethink the choices of youth and scrap the old assumptions that would have bound me in a destiny I’m not meant for. In so many ways I’m back at square one, but this time I get to start the game with the benefit of more knowledge. I still know there’s a meaning and purpose for my life. I still sense, even as I sit hemmed in by the three walls of my cubicle and sort through emails and go to meetings that I’m not meant for this. I’m meant for something more. My life wasn’t initiated with these barriers in mind. But this time, I will listen, and I will explore, and I will try new things, and hopefully I will do all of this without the burden of my old convictions that I know where I’m headed and what I’m supposed to do. And I may take some wrong paths. I may find that this avenue or that seemed right but turned out to be something that wasn’t the perfect fit. But at least I will try those roads before ruling them out, and I will live this life, not wrap it up in a neat little box where it will scream to be let out until I have quietly suffocated it.
Anyhow, didn’t mean to get into it all that much. I really just wanted to share the quote because it really resonated with me. LOL. But I’m long-winded so… Here’s to LIFE!
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Monday, October 26, 2009
Embracing the Journey or Ignoring the Truth?
I’ve been giving some thought to a conversation I had with a couple good friends Saturday morning over breakfast. We touched on some issues that have real complexity for all true Christ followers. And when it comes to engaging these issues, Christ followers are all over the map.
One of the things I love about their church (I also consider it my church, though I haven’t been there in a long while. Really need to go back.) is the way it embraces people wherever they are in their journey of/toward faith. Perhaps in no way is this more evident than in the fact that the church has several homosexual couples who attend regularly. Most of the Fundy folks I know would be horrified at the thought that a church would allow homosexuals into the fellowship, which makes me wonder how much they really understand the heart and mission of Jesus. (Just my two cents, but shouldn't the church be seeking these people and bringing them in?) But I’m not here to throw stones. Frankly, I think it’s a beautiful and wonderful thing that these individuals, so long alienated by the universal church, have finally found a “hospital” that will treat them, along with all the other “patients” who have more spiritually acceptable “ailments.” What’s more amazing, though, is that this is a church with a pastor who doesn’t water down his message. When approached by one of these couples, he spoke kindly and honestly, telling them that the Bible calls homosexuality sinful, but that it also talks about a lot of other sins, so as far as he is concerned, they are welcome to join all the other sinners in the church to be ministered to. How beautiful!
I was surprised to hear, though, that a small minority of the people in the church object to the presence of these homosexuals. It’s not that they don’t want them to attend, or so I understand. It’s that these gay couples are still actively practicing homosexuality and, therefore, as these people see it, they shouldn’t be embraced as though they are living a holy life.
The situation raises some challenging questions, and both sides have valid points, making it tricky for me to strike a clearly defined balance. At what cost to truth do we embrace an individual’s spiritual journey? And at what cost to an individual’s spiritual journey do we demand compliance with black and white law? When you attempt to take both sides into account, it makes it really hard to come up with an honest answer.
On the one hand you have the Fundies, and if you’re going to take the Bible seriously you have to give their point of view the credit it deserves. Homosexuality isn’t something the Bible minces words about. It’s not a gray area. I can’t say that I fully understand that, because trying to understand why God doesn’t like the homosexual lifestyle is something I struggle with. But if you’re going to do business with the Bible, it’s there in black and white. On the other hand, you have the more liberal view: we’re all sinners of one kind or another, and not one of us lives a perfectly pure life, no matter how hard we may try. There are countless other sins of omission or commission: fornication, theft, dishonesty, gossip, gluttony, hatred, unforgiveness, a judgmental heart, selfishness. I could go on, but I’ve probably already hit on at least one sin that each my readers struggles with and/or fails at miserably. God makes it clear that sin is sin, no matter what kind of sin happens to be your personal favorite. As far as He’s concerned they’re all on the same level. So the more liberal argument goes that since we’re all sinners and we all live in sin in one way or another, why would we single out one group of sinners as worse or less deserving or less welcome at God’s table of vagabonds than the rest? We can’t and shouldn’t. And I absolutely agree with that.
In one respect, I think the issue comes down to one of the struggle, or lack thereof, to change. My guess is that the dissenters would not object to these homosexuals being embraced by the church if they were choosing to remain celibate. (I also wonder if they would be so concerned about someone living in ongoing sin if that person were, say, cheating on his taxes or perpetuating an ugly feud with his neighbor instead of being a homosexual. But that's another matter.) Not knowing who these individuals are and not having spoken with them, I can't say that is certainly the case, but that would be my guess. And again, there's something valid in that. The Bible does have something to say about allowing people to remain in fellowship who are choosing to continue living in willful sin. To put it gently, it doesn't endorse it. But I have to be honest and say that something deep inside me recoils fiercely at the thought of any Christ follower approaching these souls that are so dear to God and telling them not to come back. I'm sorry; I just can't see Jesus doing that. And for those of you out there who so love justice, I'll just point you to the literal example of Jesus and Judas. Jesus knew what Judas was up to the entire time he served in His ministry. Judas didn't start sinning when he betrayed Jesus. He'd been up to a whole lot of other nasty business all along, and it was no secret to Jesus. But He didn't kick him out. Just something to consider...
Here's where the concept of journey comes into play again. Truthfully, we all take a spiritual journey with God. I can't tell you how many times I've heard about God bringing something to someone's attention they weren't aware of or wrestling with their heart for many months or years over a particular issue they didn't want to change in. Does the fact that the He has to cultivate change in the heart over the long-term make someone any less His child? Hell no!
I wish I could find some kind of firm ground here. I know that proponents of both sides would say that firm ground should be clear and evident to me, but honestly it isn't. There is validity on both sides. I don't think that people can go around for years at a time doing whatever the hell they want or choosing to live in blatant sin and it should be okay, and I don't think the church should "endorse" behaviors that are spoken about in black and white in the Bible. But I also don't think they should be kicked out or treated like garbage or judged by other recovering sinners. I know the Fundies would probably condemn me to hell for saying it, but even in my most conservative days, some part of me really had a difficult time with Paul's teachings on how to deal with sinners in the fellowship. It's one of those things that God and I need to come to an understanding about because it sincerely bothers my heart.
So I'm torn. I wish I could side clearly with one group or another, or that I could come to a place where the ideal solution could be found that would take both sides into account, but that hasn't presented itself. Perhaps in time it will come, or perhaps the answer is simply that no answer is right in every situation. Perhaps each church and minister and Christ follower must seek God's heart and wisdom for each situation, remember that love must be central and judgment must be tempered by mercy.
One of the things I love about their church (I also consider it my church, though I haven’t been there in a long while. Really need to go back.) is the way it embraces people wherever they are in their journey of/toward faith. Perhaps in no way is this more evident than in the fact that the church has several homosexual couples who attend regularly. Most of the Fundy folks I know would be horrified at the thought that a church would allow homosexuals into the fellowship, which makes me wonder how much they really understand the heart and mission of Jesus. (Just my two cents, but shouldn't the church be seeking these people and bringing them in?) But I’m not here to throw stones. Frankly, I think it’s a beautiful and wonderful thing that these individuals, so long alienated by the universal church, have finally found a “hospital” that will treat them, along with all the other “patients” who have more spiritually acceptable “ailments.” What’s more amazing, though, is that this is a church with a pastor who doesn’t water down his message. When approached by one of these couples, he spoke kindly and honestly, telling them that the Bible calls homosexuality sinful, but that it also talks about a lot of other sins, so as far as he is concerned, they are welcome to join all the other sinners in the church to be ministered to. How beautiful!
I was surprised to hear, though, that a small minority of the people in the church object to the presence of these homosexuals. It’s not that they don’t want them to attend, or so I understand. It’s that these gay couples are still actively practicing homosexuality and, therefore, as these people see it, they shouldn’t be embraced as though they are living a holy life.
The situation raises some challenging questions, and both sides have valid points, making it tricky for me to strike a clearly defined balance. At what cost to truth do we embrace an individual’s spiritual journey? And at what cost to an individual’s spiritual journey do we demand compliance with black and white law? When you attempt to take both sides into account, it makes it really hard to come up with an honest answer.
On the one hand you have the Fundies, and if you’re going to take the Bible seriously you have to give their point of view the credit it deserves. Homosexuality isn’t something the Bible minces words about. It’s not a gray area. I can’t say that I fully understand that, because trying to understand why God doesn’t like the homosexual lifestyle is something I struggle with. But if you’re going to do business with the Bible, it’s there in black and white. On the other hand, you have the more liberal view: we’re all sinners of one kind or another, and not one of us lives a perfectly pure life, no matter how hard we may try. There are countless other sins of omission or commission: fornication, theft, dishonesty, gossip, gluttony, hatred, unforgiveness, a judgmental heart, selfishness. I could go on, but I’ve probably already hit on at least one sin that each my readers struggles with and/or fails at miserably. God makes it clear that sin is sin, no matter what kind of sin happens to be your personal favorite. As far as He’s concerned they’re all on the same level. So the more liberal argument goes that since we’re all sinners and we all live in sin in one way or another, why would we single out one group of sinners as worse or less deserving or less welcome at God’s table of vagabonds than the rest? We can’t and shouldn’t. And I absolutely agree with that.
In one respect, I think the issue comes down to one of the struggle, or lack thereof, to change. My guess is that the dissenters would not object to these homosexuals being embraced by the church if they were choosing to remain celibate. (I also wonder if they would be so concerned about someone living in ongoing sin if that person were, say, cheating on his taxes or perpetuating an ugly feud with his neighbor instead of being a homosexual. But that's another matter.) Not knowing who these individuals are and not having spoken with them, I can't say that is certainly the case, but that would be my guess. And again, there's something valid in that. The Bible does have something to say about allowing people to remain in fellowship who are choosing to continue living in willful sin. To put it gently, it doesn't endorse it. But I have to be honest and say that something deep inside me recoils fiercely at the thought of any Christ follower approaching these souls that are so dear to God and telling them not to come back. I'm sorry; I just can't see Jesus doing that. And for those of you out there who so love justice, I'll just point you to the literal example of Jesus and Judas. Jesus knew what Judas was up to the entire time he served in His ministry. Judas didn't start sinning when he betrayed Jesus. He'd been up to a whole lot of other nasty business all along, and it was no secret to Jesus. But He didn't kick him out. Just something to consider...
Here's where the concept of journey comes into play again. Truthfully, we all take a spiritual journey with God. I can't tell you how many times I've heard about God bringing something to someone's attention they weren't aware of or wrestling with their heart for many months or years over a particular issue they didn't want to change in. Does the fact that the He has to cultivate change in the heart over the long-term make someone any less His child? Hell no!
I wish I could find some kind of firm ground here. I know that proponents of both sides would say that firm ground should be clear and evident to me, but honestly it isn't. There is validity on both sides. I don't think that people can go around for years at a time doing whatever the hell they want or choosing to live in blatant sin and it should be okay, and I don't think the church should "endorse" behaviors that are spoken about in black and white in the Bible. But I also don't think they should be kicked out or treated like garbage or judged by other recovering sinners. I know the Fundies would probably condemn me to hell for saying it, but even in my most conservative days, some part of me really had a difficult time with Paul's teachings on how to deal with sinners in the fellowship. It's one of those things that God and I need to come to an understanding about because it sincerely bothers my heart.
So I'm torn. I wish I could side clearly with one group or another, or that I could come to a place where the ideal solution could be found that would take both sides into account, but that hasn't presented itself. Perhaps in time it will come, or perhaps the answer is simply that no answer is right in every situation. Perhaps each church and minister and Christ follower must seek God's heart and wisdom for each situation, remember that love must be central and judgment must be tempered by mercy.
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Two Kinds of Blindness
Surprise! I'm back! You thought I wasn't ever going to write on this thing again, didn't you? Wait... where is everyone? LOL. I admit I have shamefully neglected this blog for a very long stretch of months, but... what can I say. Life is life. I'm just happy I was able to log back on. Almost didn't remember my password!
Having said that, I have some thoughts to share today, and they tie in to much of what I've said in previous postings. I can't promise I'll become a regular poster again, but I'm sensing another shift beginning to take place, which may mean my little fingers will be typing thoughts. I know this new shift is gonna take me toward God, but I don't yet know exactly what that's going to look like. I keep toying with the idea of going back to church. Still not quite ready yet, but I've had the opportunity in recent months to re-engage with some former friends of Fundy days who have gone through a similar transformation. I can't tell you how encouraging it is to be able to add names and faces to "the circle of trust" - people I can speak with honestly without fear of getting a sermon or an unwelcome dose of their "traditional" thoughts. I'll be able to listen to traditional thoughts again someday, but there's still some journeying to do before that. For now, it's a comfort to find fellow refugees to confide in and be transparent with.
ANYWAY... Blah, blah, blah. A thought occurred to me recently that I've rolled around in my head, intending to write on it but never actually doing so. Then it came up in a conversation I had last night with one of those fellow refugees, and I decided it was time to unpack it here. I've come to realize that there are two kinds of spiritual blindness in the world. One comes from living in the darkness. That's the obvious kind. The other kind is less obvious. It's the blindness that comes from living too close to the light. (Yes, my Fundy friends, there I go again! Haha. Apparently six months of blog inactivity haven't cured me of my horrid and heretical thoughts!) Seriously, though, give it some thought. What happens when you stare into the sun for too long? You go blind. What happens when someone turns on a light, even a faint light, in a completely dark room. Everyone squints, temporarily blinded by the brightness. The truth is, there can be just as much blindness in perfect, pure, bright light as there is in the blackest darkness.
It reminds me of something that happened in my favorite Narnia book, Voyage of the Dawn Treader. As the adventurers near the end of their journey and the eastern end of the world, the light around them becomes brighter on a daily basis, so much brighter, in fact, that the book says they have to drink the water they are sailing in, a type of liquid light, so that the light from the sun won't blind them. I've always found that to be an intriguing story element: as they journey nearer to the eastern edge of the world - the country of Aslan, who fills the role of the Christ-figure - they are in great danger of becoming blinded by the ever-increasing light. It's especially interesting because Aslan is most often written as the wild yet just yet deeply loving son of the Great King beyond the sea. You don't see a lot of him in the "bright and glorious holiness" manifestation. And that in itself is interesting, as though Lewis understood that we can't deal too much with that side of God while still entrenched in our human flesh. But I'm getting off point here: blinded by light. Ahem.
It's a fascinating concept to me, and it's one that is highly consistent with Biblical narrative. Paul was blinded by the glory of God. Moses had to be protected from the brightness of Him, unable to see but a small part of Him, and even that was almost too much. The Bible even says that God lives in "unapproachable light." Hmm. This light is generally attributed to be the physical manifestation of God's holiness, purity and glory - the part of His nature that is most foreign, and honestly most frightening, to most of us humans. If you must know, God's holiness is a facet of His nature I'd just as soon pretend isn't there. Not denying it exists. Not pretending I won't have to address it. Not saying I can truly know Him without coming to terms with that. I'm just not ready to deal with that part of Him yet, and I've told Him so. Honestly, I don't believe you can safely deal with His holiness, spiritually or emotionally, until you have a deep and personal understanding of His love and grace. Either it will scare the shit out of you or it will blind you to the point that you become a legalistic, self-righteous bastard. Probably shouldn't use those words when talking about the holiness of God, I know, but you get the point. And honestly, though the Bible certainly doesn't put it in the words I've used, I find it interesting that it acknowledges that the closer you get to the light of God's holiness, the more likely you are to be blinded by it.
There's a lot of this blindness in the church today. (You knew I was going to go there, didn't you.) It's an unintentional blindness, and ironically, it is often those who have the most light and who are, therefore, most blind, that are most blind to their own blindness. Haha. Are you confused yet? It certianly adds a whole new dimension to Jesus' teaching on the blind leading the blind, doesn't it? Those who are blinded by light trying to lead those who are blinded by darkness, and they both end up in a pit. I'm just sayin'.
My parents used to use a couple of phrases when I was growing up that resonate with this concept, though these phrases express it in different ways: "He can't see the forest for the trees" and "He's so spiritually minded, he's no earthly good." In many ways, these phrases described my sincere spirituality of more innocent days. Oddly enough, taking a few steps away from the blinding whiteness of the light has helped me to see far more clearly, even if it has cost me. Like many who are blinded by the light, I had no context with which I could even attempt to understand the issues, temptations and perspectives of people outside the church, and even, for that matter, liberal minds within the church. I had no mercy, compassion, or respect for the journey, even my own. I was missing the humble, cracked hands of a sweat-stained carpenter because I was so busy trying to pierce the brilliant veil of the Untouchable.
Now I realize that it sounds like I have no use for the holy. I know it must seem as though I'm endorsing a hedonistic embrace of the darkness, but that's not what I'm saying. Blindness in darkness is, quite possibly, even more to be dreaded than blindness in light. I'm simply saying that we, like the travelers in Lewis's Narnia, need to partake of something capable of mitigating those blinding effects, and that something is an ever deepening experience of God's love and grace. We need to recognize that so long as we move toward nothing but the light, we also move further away from those the light wants to shine on. And wasn't that the whole point of Jesus leaving His glory behind anyway - to join us in the darkness and shine that faint light that would draw us to ever greater light in the end? And that, perhaps, is my point in all this. So long as we are blinded by the light, so long as our lives are consumed in its unmitigated brightness, so long as we look on the world around us without the personal experience of love, compassion, grace and even failure, we will be useless - so heavenly minded we are no earthly good. But when tempered by these things, the light of God gets inside us, and instead of blinding us, it becomes illumination, both for us and those around us.
And by the way, this "blindness by light" I'm talking about can manifest itself in so many ways: legalism, isolationism, self-righteousness, lack of mercy, dogmatic views, disunity, a lack of teachability, and the list goes on. It's kind of scary how quickly you can lose true vision and perspective. And once again, it sounds like I don't like the light. Nothing could be further from the truth. Light is absolutely necessary. Without it, we are purposeless, lost, stuck, directionless. Without light, our destiny is too terrible to imagine. But we must understand, as we walk deeper into that light, that "the light shines in the darkness."
Having said that, I have some thoughts to share today, and they tie in to much of what I've said in previous postings. I can't promise I'll become a regular poster again, but I'm sensing another shift beginning to take place, which may mean my little fingers will be typing thoughts. I know this new shift is gonna take me toward God, but I don't yet know exactly what that's going to look like. I keep toying with the idea of going back to church. Still not quite ready yet, but I've had the opportunity in recent months to re-engage with some former friends of Fundy days who have gone through a similar transformation. I can't tell you how encouraging it is to be able to add names and faces to "the circle of trust" - people I can speak with honestly without fear of getting a sermon or an unwelcome dose of their "traditional" thoughts. I'll be able to listen to traditional thoughts again someday, but there's still some journeying to do before that. For now, it's a comfort to find fellow refugees to confide in and be transparent with.
ANYWAY... Blah, blah, blah. A thought occurred to me recently that I've rolled around in my head, intending to write on it but never actually doing so. Then it came up in a conversation I had last night with one of those fellow refugees, and I decided it was time to unpack it here. I've come to realize that there are two kinds of spiritual blindness in the world. One comes from living in the darkness. That's the obvious kind. The other kind is less obvious. It's the blindness that comes from living too close to the light. (Yes, my Fundy friends, there I go again! Haha. Apparently six months of blog inactivity haven't cured me of my horrid and heretical thoughts!) Seriously, though, give it some thought. What happens when you stare into the sun for too long? You go blind. What happens when someone turns on a light, even a faint light, in a completely dark room. Everyone squints, temporarily blinded by the brightness. The truth is, there can be just as much blindness in perfect, pure, bright light as there is in the blackest darkness.
It reminds me of something that happened in my favorite Narnia book, Voyage of the Dawn Treader. As the adventurers near the end of their journey and the eastern end of the world, the light around them becomes brighter on a daily basis, so much brighter, in fact, that the book says they have to drink the water they are sailing in, a type of liquid light, so that the light from the sun won't blind them. I've always found that to be an intriguing story element: as they journey nearer to the eastern edge of the world - the country of Aslan, who fills the role of the Christ-figure - they are in great danger of becoming blinded by the ever-increasing light. It's especially interesting because Aslan is most often written as the wild yet just yet deeply loving son of the Great King beyond the sea. You don't see a lot of him in the "bright and glorious holiness" manifestation. And that in itself is interesting, as though Lewis understood that we can't deal too much with that side of God while still entrenched in our human flesh. But I'm getting off point here: blinded by light. Ahem.
It's a fascinating concept to me, and it's one that is highly consistent with Biblical narrative. Paul was blinded by the glory of God. Moses had to be protected from the brightness of Him, unable to see but a small part of Him, and even that was almost too much. The Bible even says that God lives in "unapproachable light." Hmm. This light is generally attributed to be the physical manifestation of God's holiness, purity and glory - the part of His nature that is most foreign, and honestly most frightening, to most of us humans. If you must know, God's holiness is a facet of His nature I'd just as soon pretend isn't there. Not denying it exists. Not pretending I won't have to address it. Not saying I can truly know Him without coming to terms with that. I'm just not ready to deal with that part of Him yet, and I've told Him so. Honestly, I don't believe you can safely deal with His holiness, spiritually or emotionally, until you have a deep and personal understanding of His love and grace. Either it will scare the shit out of you or it will blind you to the point that you become a legalistic, self-righteous bastard. Probably shouldn't use those words when talking about the holiness of God, I know, but you get the point. And honestly, though the Bible certainly doesn't put it in the words I've used, I find it interesting that it acknowledges that the closer you get to the light of God's holiness, the more likely you are to be blinded by it.
There's a lot of this blindness in the church today. (You knew I was going to go there, didn't you.) It's an unintentional blindness, and ironically, it is often those who have the most light and who are, therefore, most blind, that are most blind to their own blindness. Haha. Are you confused yet? It certianly adds a whole new dimension to Jesus' teaching on the blind leading the blind, doesn't it? Those who are blinded by light trying to lead those who are blinded by darkness, and they both end up in a pit. I'm just sayin'.
My parents used to use a couple of phrases when I was growing up that resonate with this concept, though these phrases express it in different ways: "He can't see the forest for the trees" and "He's so spiritually minded, he's no earthly good." In many ways, these phrases described my sincere spirituality of more innocent days. Oddly enough, taking a few steps away from the blinding whiteness of the light has helped me to see far more clearly, even if it has cost me. Like many who are blinded by the light, I had no context with which I could even attempt to understand the issues, temptations and perspectives of people outside the church, and even, for that matter, liberal minds within the church. I had no mercy, compassion, or respect for the journey, even my own. I was missing the humble, cracked hands of a sweat-stained carpenter because I was so busy trying to pierce the brilliant veil of the Untouchable.
Now I realize that it sounds like I have no use for the holy. I know it must seem as though I'm endorsing a hedonistic embrace of the darkness, but that's not what I'm saying. Blindness in darkness is, quite possibly, even more to be dreaded than blindness in light. I'm simply saying that we, like the travelers in Lewis's Narnia, need to partake of something capable of mitigating those blinding effects, and that something is an ever deepening experience of God's love and grace. We need to recognize that so long as we move toward nothing but the light, we also move further away from those the light wants to shine on. And wasn't that the whole point of Jesus leaving His glory behind anyway - to join us in the darkness and shine that faint light that would draw us to ever greater light in the end? And that, perhaps, is my point in all this. So long as we are blinded by the light, so long as our lives are consumed in its unmitigated brightness, so long as we look on the world around us without the personal experience of love, compassion, grace and even failure, we will be useless - so heavenly minded we are no earthly good. But when tempered by these things, the light of God gets inside us, and instead of blinding us, it becomes illumination, both for us and those around us.
And by the way, this "blindness by light" I'm talking about can manifest itself in so many ways: legalism, isolationism, self-righteousness, lack of mercy, dogmatic views, disunity, a lack of teachability, and the list goes on. It's kind of scary how quickly you can lose true vision and perspective. And once again, it sounds like I don't like the light. Nothing could be further from the truth. Light is absolutely necessary. Without it, we are purposeless, lost, stuck, directionless. Without light, our destiny is too terrible to imagine. But we must understand, as we walk deeper into that light, that "the light shines in the darkness."
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