Christianity is less a journey and more unrest

In college I had a notebook that I kept with questions and quotes. The blue ink contrasts with the yellowing paper and in college I had legible enough handwriting to make out the following question:

I am tired of the metaphor of a journey. Is there any other metaphor that can be used to describe the life of faith?

Even then I found the idea of Christianity as a journey to be somewhat accurate but also boring and overused. Clearly the metaphor works, but it also is limited. It suggests that we are always moving in our life of faith. I have not experienced. I have experienced long bouts of stagnation and even moving backwards. The journey metaphor not only suggests that forward or deeper is better, but also that the journey is a means to an end. It suggests the destination is more important or valuable than the journey itself. Who goes on a trip and talks about the journey unless the journey to get there was fraught with trouble, delays or mishaps.

We want to “arrive” and “get there”, and when there is a delay, it is something to bemoan. No one beholds a delay in a journey.

I just about gave up on the searching for an alternate metaphor when I came across a gem from Soren Kierkegaard who said:

The Celtic Christian tradition imagines the Holy Spirt like a wild goose. Talk about unrest!

“Christianity is the most intensive and strongest form of unrest thinkable. Christ’s coming is intended to disturb life. Where one want to become Christian, there will be unrest; and where one has become a Christian, there unrest follows.”

Christianity is unrest. That sounds more true to me than a journey.

Often times people turn to religion when they experience unrest. The idea is that religion will provide a sense of control or comfort. If I say the right prayers or go to worship then things will work out better for me. The reality is that in Christianity, unrest is a feature and not a bug. It is the unrest that follows Christian conversion that is key and different from other religions.

Other religions (and even shallow Christianity) suggests that the faithful will be able to remove unrest from their life. But authentic Christianity puts unrest at the center of the tradition. It is the unrest that drives us to reach out into the world to care for others. If we were content and “rested” we would not go out into the world and possibly upset our ease and comfort. Unrest comes with Christianity because Christianity forces us to confront the internal and external sin in our lives.

The unrest of Christianity is the itch. It is the very thing that pulls us to our knees in confession that we are not God and that we are in need. As the Amma Synkletike said, “Just as a vessel cannot be built without nails, so it is impossible to be saved without humble-mindedness.” The gift of unrest provides access to humility.

And so, if you are among the unrested of the world, give thanks for this gift from God. And if you are rested, then let us pray that God may give us the gift of unrest. As the desert story goes:

Abba Poemen told a story of Abba John the Short that he asked God for his passions [struggles] to be removed from him. God granted this prayer and Abba John became one without a care. Going to a teacher, John said, “I see myself satiated, with no battle to fight.” The teacher said to John “Go and beseech God for the struggles to come upon you because it is through struggling that the soul makes progress.” The struggle returned, and John no longer prayed for it to be taken away. Instead Abba John prayed, “Lord, give me patience in the struggles.”

Lent Advice From the John the Dwarf

We all have demons that, like any uninvited guest, take up too much of our time. In an effort to lessen the effect our own demons have on us we turn to the activity of talking about how much more awful the demons of others are.

"I may drink myself dumb, but I am not doing anything illegal."

"I may yell at my spouse, but I am not hitting them."

"I may engage in observing pornography, but I am not cheating on my spouse."

"I may gossip, but it is only to my close friends" 

"I am not perfect, but I am better than that person(s)."

Whatever the demons are we all can choose to live with them or work to defeat them. If you are looking to defeat a demon in your life, expose your false self, adknowledge where you are not doing so well, etc. then consider the advice from John the Dwarf:

“If a king wanted to take possession of his enemy’s city, he would begin by cutting off the water and the food, so his enemies, dying of hunger, would submit to him. It is the same with the passions of the flesh: If a person goes about fasting and hungry, the enemies of his soul grow weak.”

What the Dwarf teaches us about Christmas

A previous post highlighted a story told about John the Dwarf of the Christian tradition. It was about his willingness to water a dry bit of wood for three years until it bore fruit. Continuing to share some sayings of the desert from Merton's book here is another John the Dwarf story:

ONCE some of the elders came to Scete, and Abbot John the Dwarf was with them. And when they were dining, one of the priests, a very great old man, got up to give each one a little cup of water to drink, and no one would take it from him except John the Dwarf. The others were surprised, and afterwards they asked him: How is it that you, the least of all, have presumed to accept the services of this great old man? He replied: Well, when I get up to give people a drink of water, I am happy if they all take it; and for that reason on this occasion I took the drink, that he might be rewarded, and not feel sad because nobody accepted the cup from him. And at this all admired his discretion.

In this season of gift giving, we can forget that gift giving can be a form of power. In the words of Bishop Will Willimon:

"We prefer to think of ourselves as givers -- powerful, competent, self-sufficient, capable people whose goodness motivates us to employ some of our power, competence and gifts to benefit the less fortunate. Which is a direct contradiction of the biblical account of the first Christmas. There we are portrayed not as the givers we wish we were but as the receivers we are. Luke and Matthew go to great lengths to demonstrate that we -- with our power, generosity, competence and capabilities -- had little to do with God’s work in Jesus. God wanted to do something for us so strange, so utterly beyond the bounds of human imagination, so foreign to human projection, that God had to resort to angels, pregnant virgins and stars in the sky to get it done. We didn’t think of it, understand it or approve it. All we could do, at Bethlehem, was receive it."

So may we all be givers like the very great old man in the story. And may we also be like John the Dwarf who was humble enough to receive so that others can experience the joy (and power) of giving a gift.