Freedom to think

I recently led a guided meditation session based on John 3:16 in which we spent forty minutes or so contemplating each major word of this incredibly familiar text. Basically, we heard the word or phrase, e.g., “God,” and focused on who and what God is; then we moved to the next phrase, “...so loved...,” eventually meditating through the whole verse. Afterwards, I asked the group to reflect on the exercise, one that was completely new for some of them. More than one said it was hard, much harder than they thought. One reason was because each person was left to think completely for themselves about the meaning and intent of the verse--it was all up to them.

I find this response fascinating. One might think an opportunity to freely consider whatever you think is important or meaningful would something easy to do. So many people complain that there is too much direction from authorities, powers, and bosses--no one is left to think or speak freely--yet, when such an opportunity comes, it is frightening and hard work.

You begin to understand the ancient Church fathers and mothers who fled to the desert to pray. They needed total focus--zero distractions from other people--to lose themselves freely in God. Of course, to read them is to learn that all those left behind human distractions got replaced by a host of new ones--hunger, weariness, thirst, and the simple play of a mind left to itself--more than a few of the desert mystics complained of demons. 

Freedom is a tricky thing. On the one hand, it is something we long for because we long to be able to be ourselves, doing what we want, as we want, where we want, and with whom we want; but on the other hand, to find ourselves in a circumstance without boundary, direction, or guide--we are free to generate all of those for ourselves--we find we feel overwhelmed, lost, and faced with hard work.

It is kind of like a moment I had when we bought a new appliance with the dreaded message stamped on the box, “SOME ASSEMBLY REQUIRED.” Opening the box revealed a tumult of unrecognizable bits, pieces, tokens, gear, and other flotsam. Also, horror of horrors, we had purchased the one box that Inspector 35 approved without the inclusion of any instructions whatsoever. I was free to build the thing without constraint, dictatorial direction, or tyrannical diagrams. I was liberated from all control. After three or four DAYS of futility, we boxed it all up and returned it for one that had the blessed instruction booklet. 

For some, facing a Bible text is much like me dealing with a box of pieces meant to be a usable device. Faith itself becomes like that unbuilt machine. We get into it and realize it, too, carries a message of “SOME ASSEMBLY REQUIRED.” Faith is participatory. To engage in the life of Christ means to engage in the work of love, a messy proposition no matter with whom we work. That means, yes, there are times and places for directed study--ones where we sit and listen to a teacher tell us where a Bible passage came from, who a particular prophet was, explaining the gist of a major theologian’s work, and so on. But there also comes a time when we will be left to figure something out for ourselves. For instance, we hear a Bible study on Acts 2, the whole chapter, and come to that passage about the earliest Church in which they actually sold all that they had, put the proceeds in a common pool, and lived in mutual support of one another as they entered the work of communal ministry--we are left to consider what that means for us in our particular congregation and in our own individual lives--how literally are we to follow this example? what does it mean for stewardship? No one can tell us what to think or how to apply the lesson in Acts. We have to decide for ourselves what to do and how far to go, to wrestle with God’s expectations, and our own abilities and inabilities. It is up to us to work out our own salvation with fear and trembling as Paul wrote. 

Faith is hard work. Faith is utterly fulfilling. To get to the latter, we have to do the former. God is good and grace abounds, though. God will see us through. 

We can do this.