There is a lonely and silent aspect to the Christian life that many find unbearable. Jesus calls us aside and beckons us to a quiet place in order to speak to us, to heal us and to give us clear direction. The silence is deafening. We prefer action, movement and cacophony. It is the world in which we live. In a song written several years ago, Randy Stonehill caught up to our sickness with these words: “It’s the fear of silence that gives us away. ‘Cause when we’re alone, we have to hear, what our aching heart’s trying to say.”
There is a pride attached to busyness. To be burned out and bone-tired is a badge of honor. There are not many who like to answer the question: “So what have you been up to?“ with: “I have been working on slowing down, relaxing and being quiet before the Lord.” There is no “snap” to such a reply. Rather, we much prefer to share a litany of suspect accomplishments in order to secure our place in the “world of worth” based upon our exhaustion. If we are more exhausted than our neighbor, we win.
This game of one-upmanship has one other benefit – it creates space. If I can convince enough people that I am about to become unhinged because of my busyness, then, “They’ll leave me the hell alone.” Oftentimes, the distancing that takes place by our projected busyness includes our spouse, our children, and our friends. If we succeed, and are left “the hell alone” – that is usually what we get - hell…alone.
“Hell alone” is the wrong kind of quietness because it is not all that quiet. It is a cave with many voices echoing in disunity throughout our internal world. There is one voice that begins a conversation with: “Man, I wish I made more money and had a better job…” and before that sentence is even finished, another voice interrupts with: “I can’t believe how he/she treated me today…” and, before that thought is completed: “I hate the way I have let myself go…” and on, and on. All of the voices “appear” to be our own voice. I suspect however that the voices we hear as our own are borrowed from a more malevolent source. The Dark Lord, the master of confusion, has littered our mind with a world of anxious offenses and faithless ideas. He then, in a grand act of hellish ventriloquism, uses our voice to create his own inner playground of torment. We awake the next day – not so much as one who is alive - but as one who merely exists.
We are called to a better existence. It begins with a dose of what we have called Christian narcissism. If I am not caught up in “me”, I will be no good to Him – or anyone else. It seems strangely antithetical to all of what we have understood Christianity to be – populated with such themes as: love of others, self-sacrifice, and good works. The effort we are called to give seems to be “other” oriented. But here is the thing – the inner reserve for such selfless living is actually fueled by self-centered attentions.
Early in His public ministry, Jesus demonstrated what we have been discussing. In the Gospel of Mark, in one day, Jesus heals a man at the local synagogue in Capernaum, and then ends up at the home of Peter’s mother-in law. The poor lady is so ill she cannot even put some dinner out for Jesus and his disciples. That is a very embarrassing situation for a Mideast Jewish host. Jesus heals the woman and she immediately runs to the kitchen and, as Mark tells us, “…begins to serve them.” It took about a minute for the word to travel around the village. Before night fell, the yard was full of the moaning sick and the howling demonized. Jesus healed them all. And then what? He left the scene of busyness and success and we find these penetrating words from Mark: “Very early in the morning, while it was still dark, He got up, went out, and made His way to a lonely place, and there He prayed.” Mark 1:35. This moment of apparent “narcissism” didn’t sit well with the disciples. When they finally tracked Jesus down, they were all in a bother about the crowds that had already gathered at revival central, formally known as the in-law’s house. Jesus would have none of it. Neither the pleasure of perceived success, nor the pride of laborious busyness could detract Him from His mission. It was in the quiet place that He was given His direction for that day.
I close with a word about false humility. Real humility is a good thing. God tells us to humble ourselves so that we will be lifted up at the right time. [Just a side note: God doesn’t humble us – He tells us to humble ourselves. It is interesting to note that the method of demonstrating humility, of humbling ourselves, falls nicely into the category of Christian narcissism. According to the Epistle of Peter, we demonstrate humility by: “Casting all of our cares upon Him.” This is the lonely act, the selfish act. All of those cavernous echoing voices meet their match as we humbly cast our cares upon Him. See I Peter 5:6, 7] False humility is not real humility. False humility is characterized by a person who constantly belittles his or her own spiritual vitality or future spiritual prospects. Phrases such as: “I am still just a sinner saved by grace” is not so much a sign of humility as it is a flashing sign that announces: “Beware – I am still so enamored of my flesh that I can go off at any moment and behave as if…I am still a sinner.” While the phrase sounds spiritual – it is anything but. We can run up any number of things that is offensive to God: gossip; lust (boys will be boys); blue humor; unforgiveness; greed; covetousness; anger; etc. – so long as we end with the phrase: ““I am still just a sinner saved by grace.” It is the Protestant equivalent of priestly absolution. This phrase betrays a lack of lonely time spent with the Master where all such things are weakened and then vanquished – not justified. Only a purposeful narcissist will care enough to find that quiet place where all can, and will be, healed.
There is a pride attached to busyness. To be burned out and bone-tired is a badge of honor. There are not many who like to answer the question: “So what have you been up to?“ with: “I have been working on slowing down, relaxing and being quiet before the Lord.” There is no “snap” to such a reply. Rather, we much prefer to share a litany of suspect accomplishments in order to secure our place in the “world of worth” based upon our exhaustion. If we are more exhausted than our neighbor, we win.
This game of one-upmanship has one other benefit – it creates space. If I can convince enough people that I am about to become unhinged because of my busyness, then, “They’ll leave me the hell alone.” Oftentimes, the distancing that takes place by our projected busyness includes our spouse, our children, and our friends. If we succeed, and are left “the hell alone” – that is usually what we get - hell…alone.
“Hell alone” is the wrong kind of quietness because it is not all that quiet. It is a cave with many voices echoing in disunity throughout our internal world. There is one voice that begins a conversation with: “Man, I wish I made more money and had a better job…” and before that sentence is even finished, another voice interrupts with: “I can’t believe how he/she treated me today…” and, before that thought is completed: “I hate the way I have let myself go…” and on, and on. All of the voices “appear” to be our own voice. I suspect however that the voices we hear as our own are borrowed from a more malevolent source. The Dark Lord, the master of confusion, has littered our mind with a world of anxious offenses and faithless ideas. He then, in a grand act of hellish ventriloquism, uses our voice to create his own inner playground of torment. We awake the next day – not so much as one who is alive - but as one who merely exists.
We are called to a better existence. It begins with a dose of what we have called Christian narcissism. If I am not caught up in “me”, I will be no good to Him – or anyone else. It seems strangely antithetical to all of what we have understood Christianity to be – populated with such themes as: love of others, self-sacrifice, and good works. The effort we are called to give seems to be “other” oriented. But here is the thing – the inner reserve for such selfless living is actually fueled by self-centered attentions.
Early in His public ministry, Jesus demonstrated what we have been discussing. In the Gospel of Mark, in one day, Jesus heals a man at the local synagogue in Capernaum, and then ends up at the home of Peter’s mother-in law. The poor lady is so ill she cannot even put some dinner out for Jesus and his disciples. That is a very embarrassing situation for a Mideast Jewish host. Jesus heals the woman and she immediately runs to the kitchen and, as Mark tells us, “…begins to serve them.” It took about a minute for the word to travel around the village. Before night fell, the yard was full of the moaning sick and the howling demonized. Jesus healed them all. And then what? He left the scene of busyness and success and we find these penetrating words from Mark: “Very early in the morning, while it was still dark, He got up, went out, and made His way to a lonely place, and there He prayed.” Mark 1:35. This moment of apparent “narcissism” didn’t sit well with the disciples. When they finally tracked Jesus down, they were all in a bother about the crowds that had already gathered at revival central, formally known as the in-law’s house. Jesus would have none of it. Neither the pleasure of perceived success, nor the pride of laborious busyness could detract Him from His mission. It was in the quiet place that He was given His direction for that day.
I close with a word about false humility. Real humility is a good thing. God tells us to humble ourselves so that we will be lifted up at the right time. [Just a side note: God doesn’t humble us – He tells us to humble ourselves. It is interesting to note that the method of demonstrating humility, of humbling ourselves, falls nicely into the category of Christian narcissism. According to the Epistle of Peter, we demonstrate humility by: “Casting all of our cares upon Him.” This is the lonely act, the selfish act. All of those cavernous echoing voices meet their match as we humbly cast our cares upon Him. See I Peter 5:6, 7] False humility is not real humility. False humility is characterized by a person who constantly belittles his or her own spiritual vitality or future spiritual prospects. Phrases such as: “I am still just a sinner saved by grace” is not so much a sign of humility as it is a flashing sign that announces: “Beware – I am still so enamored of my flesh that I can go off at any moment and behave as if…I am still a sinner.” While the phrase sounds spiritual – it is anything but. We can run up any number of things that is offensive to God: gossip; lust (boys will be boys); blue humor; unforgiveness; greed; covetousness; anger; etc. – so long as we end with the phrase: ““I am still just a sinner saved by grace.” It is the Protestant equivalent of priestly absolution. This phrase betrays a lack of lonely time spent with the Master where all such things are weakened and then vanquished – not justified. Only a purposeful narcissist will care enough to find that quiet place where all can, and will be, healed.
1 comment:
Harsh word, but necessary. I am definitely guilty in this regard. When one goes over to Israel and is in Jerusalem, everything is difficult. It is an uphill battle just to survive. The religious prinicipalities of the time of Jesus are still there, stronger than ever - only now the stronghold of Islam has put it's claws in the mix. But then you go to Gallilee, not changed much in 2000 years - still shepherds shepherding their flocks on the hills, fishermen in their boats on the sea. And you know why Jesus chose that place to find rest, to quiet the noise and hear from his Daddy. How arrogant of us (me) to think that I can do it all and not take regular time to sit at the feet of my savior, pushing out all the other noises, the voices of hellish ventriliquism (great line!) and actually get quiet enough to hear my heavenly father guiding me, correcting me, encouraging me, bringing me to a place where my soul can be at rest to face another day of battle....
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