Graduate 118: Compensating

A number of issues are running around in my head at the moment. I think they all inform one another, but they are also sufficiently distinct to warrant the question: Why am I putting them all together in one blog entry? But that's what I'm going to do anyway.

Portions of this blog were written in the midst of difficult and frustrating times in this last term. Already I feel the need to clarify this remark because as soon as I use expressions like "difficult" to apply to myself, I am immediately reminded of a woman who is suffering terminal cancer and a town that has just been devastated by an F5 tornado and a family that is going through the pain of a divorce. My "difficulties" are nothing in comparison to these and it is at least as helpful to my state of mind to be reminded of that fact as it is to be showered with comfort and sympathy--probably more so. A good dose of reality goes a long way. Nevertheless, these remain my difficulties and part of the point that I want to make in this entry is that we all need to deal with our own difficulties. Shoving them out of sight because of pride or for the sake of image or because of certain misguided notions about how I "ought" to be able to handle things better just doesn't cut it.

At the beginning of the last week of Spring term, I wrote: "The trouble is that there's no time to write this. And yet this is the time when it must be written. If I wait too long--if I wait until after the problems have been resolved, then the danger is that I will forget--that the ache of these moments will be dulled, that their sting will be forgotten and their poignancy lost." I don't think that I'm unusual in wanting things to return to normalcy as quickly as possible whenever they fall out of order. I become quite single-minded and fixated on that point. I'll deal with whatever underlying issues led to the problem after the issues have been satisfactorily resolved--when there's time to think about it and the threat of negative consequences has been safely laid to rest. The problem with that approach is that refusing to deal with the problem until after its resolved generally means that the problem doesn't get resolved.

So, for instance, when I'm having trouble understanding the concepts in a class and don't want to look foolish by admitting as much and asking for help from my peers and going to the professor for help, I tell myself that I will set aside time in the near future to review the material more carefully and by force of will get some handle on it before going to my professor to correct the "lingering" confusions and so save face while growing in my understanding. Of course, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to recognize the regress to which that approach will lead. That 'time in the near future' isn't always readily available and my level of comprehension may still be very poor and in the meantime the weeks continue to run their course and deadlines draw ever nearer. Something similar can happen with papers. No one wants to come to a professor and say, "I have no idea what to write a paper on." But the end result of simply refusing to do so is that papers don't get written.

Where does that come from? The human capacity for "self-deception" is well-recognized and much discussed in philosophy. But where does it come from? Why do I try to hide that I'm flawed? Why do I try to hide the fact that I don't get it? Why does it seem as if, sometimes, I would rather die than admit to someone that I was wrong or mistaken?

[At this point I could turn to reflect on the human condition in general, but I will turn, instead, to something much closer to my heart and relevant to the Christian walk. It occurs to me that what follows may sound quite strange and bizarre to my non-Christian readers. If you will bear with me, I will try to make a few clarifying remarks at the end.]

It is so hard to imagine that God could possibly be glorified by my weakness. At least that is the conclusion to which I am led by reflection on my own conduct; over and over again I find myself trying to hide my weakness. One of my greatest fears, I think, is that by my weakness, by my frailty, by my inability to cope, by the fact that I too become overwhelmed by work and feel the pressure and strain and stress--one of my greatest fears is that by these things, the Gospel will come into disrepute. In a much more general way, one of my greatest fears is that someone (particularly a non-Christian) should ask me what God has done in my life recently--how He has benefited me, in what ways would I recommend Him--and I not have an answer. And so I find myself trying to compensate for the Gospel. Where it seems to fall short of what I need and what the Christian life "ought" to be like, I try to fill in the pieces so that I can, at least, give an appearance of its success and worthwhileness and value.

Why do I do this? Because I believe in the Gospel. Because I am so committed to its truth, because I believe that it is the power of God for salvation, because I believe that it is the true source of life and hope and peace and joy, and I want to people to receive that ...so I fake it. It won't do, after all, for people to take my imperfect experience of the Gospel as the real thing. I'm, at best, an imperfect representation. Much better to pretend to be experiencing the Gospel fully so that people come to understand what it really is like then to show people my real, imperfect, and limited experience of the Gospel and allow people to draw the mistaken conclusion that that is the full extent of it when there really is so much more.

The irony is that that last paragraph is actually less full of irony than it may at first appear. We understand from Scripture that the person who receives the Spirit of Jesus Christ is not, instantaneously, transformed into a fully perfected and mature individual. Rather, there is a journey and process of growth and development that each must travel. But the result of this is that many people who are Christians, because they have not yet been perfected, still do stupid things. And non-Christians see it and wonder: Is that what the Christian life is all about? But they have not seen Christianity in its fullness and completeness but only the failings of someone who, though they have become a Christian, are still at the beginning stages of that journey to perfection. And I think to myself: Wouldn't it be better to try to portray Christianity at its fullest--even if its not really the way that I am--just so that they aren't seeing the imperfect picture?

You see, I really do believe that the Gospel is what the world needs. I really do believe that the revelation of Holy Scripture is true. I have borne witness to its power in the lives of others as well as, at times, in my own. But for much of the time, the journey seems to be a struggle and I am acutely aware of how far short of perfection I still am and I recognize that imperfection is just a part of my current condition, but I don't want it to get in the way of the advancement of the Gospel, and so I try to hide that imperfection.

That line is key. Did you catch it? "I don't want [my imperfections] to get in the way of the advancement of the Gospel." Like I said, earlier: "It is so hard to imagine that God could be glorified in my weakness." As a result, I do one of two things. Either I pretend to be more collected and composed and in control then I really am, or I admit that I'm struggling just like everyone else while simultaneously downplaying the fact that I'm a Christian. The trouble is that by skirting the problem, I fall into exactly the same regress that I described in connection with my papers and schoolwork. Though I desire to be authentically whole--though I recognize that the genuinely mature and perfected life would be the most compelling witness of the Gospel--I am not willing to address the issues involved. As long as there's the chance that my weakness might hinder the Gospel, I'd rather try to maintain the appearance of maturity and perfection. Once that danger has passed, then I can deal with my issues. The problem is: that danger never passes. Only time passes, and with each day the deadline draws ever nearer.

The other problem with this approach (and it may have been the first that sprang to your mind) is that the world is not so stupid as to be fooled by my hypocrisy. They may be fooled some of the time, but it won't be long before they realize that my life really is still broken. And when they realize that, they will not be inclined to accept my rationalization about how the true Gospel is so much greater than my imperfect experience of it, even though that is true.

And so I find myself faced with a dilemma. Either I live authentically and imperfectly, risking that people will see my imperfect Christian walk and be turned, thereby, from the way of Jesus; or I pretend to live a full and complete Christian life so that even though I really am imperfect, that fact doesn't get in the way of people's perception of the Gospel. But since we've already seen that the latter approach fails, our only alternative is to adopt the former. But at this thought, the mind balks. And it balks for one reason: Because "it is so hard to imagine that God could be glorified in my weakness."

Actually, there is a second reason why it balks: Because in my pride, I don't want to admit that I'm weak in the first place. In fact, these two are closely related; specifically, both reflect a too-small view of God.

What does it mean to have a big view of God? That is a question that I pondered a great deal during this last term. In conversations with one of my mentors, we talked a lot about resting in God, about trusting in God, about turning my problems and struggles over to God. This was important because, through my failure to complete certain assignments during the Winter term, my funding (for living expenses) was put on hold half-way through the Spring term. So on top of my regular Spring term work, I was trying to finish assignments from Winter term as well. And as I faced this challenge and the work-load and the stress and the worry and anxiety about finances, I wondered to myself: What does it mean to trust God in this situation?

The conclusion I held to for quite a while was that trusting God meant not worrying about my assignments, not worrying about my finances, even stepping back from hectic study schedules and taking time to relax, believing that God would give me what I needed when I needed it. Yet, as I did these things, the situation still seemed to be spiraling out of control. Was it, perhaps, God's plan that I should end my time at grad school? Was it His plan that I should go elsewhere or do something else? These are the questions that began to occur to me. Why weren't things working out.

The problem wasn't with what I was doing. Not worrying about my assignments, not worrying about my finances, even stepping back from hectic study schedules and taking time to relax, believing that God would give me what I needed when I needed it; I think those things were right. In fact, I think I can now see more clearly how God did give me what I needed when I needed it, though it didn't come in quite the way I had expected. The problem was that all these things I was doing were too easy. They didn't require a deep trust in God. They didn't require a big view of God. What did require a big view of God, and was not too easy, was pocketing my pride and asking for help. That's what I needed to do. The solution was so obvious--and actually has been staring me in the face for much of this year--yet I tried to ignore it. Because I didn't want to admit that I didn't understand, that I needed help, that I had less of a handle on things than my peers. I didn't want to admit that I didn't have everything together, that I wasn't in complete control, that I wasn't already perfect. But without admitting those things, I could never get to a real solution; all I could do was hide the problem while it festered and grew.

What does it mean to have a big view of God? It means believe that God can handle even our weaknesses, even our insecurities, even our failing and faults. It means believing that God can use, even me, as I am, to advance His Kingdom. That requires real trust and real faith.

Psalm 127:1-2 says,

"Unless the LORD builds the house,
They labor in vain who build it;
Unless the LORD guards the city,
The watchman keeps awake in vain.
It is vain for you to rise up early,
To retire late,
To eat the bread of painful labors;
For He gives to His beloved even in his sleep."

I find myself trying to build the house without God's help. I find myself trying to compensate for my own shortcomings as a way of advancing the work when the work is really not my own.

I am tired of compensating for the Gospel. I am tired of pretending. If the work of God bears fruit in my life that is visible and evident and compelling to people, so be it. If not, then I must not try to make it appear otherwise. And the truth is that the Gospel doesn't need to be compensated-for.

Ha! If only I really were tired of compensating for the Gospel. But I expect that this will not have been the last time that I've tried such a stunt. That's why I've tried to capture some of the tension and struggle and the lessons that have come out of it here. Holy Scripture does the same. Did Moses lead a perfect life? Did David? Was Elijah always at the top of his game? What about the Apostle Peter? Some people look at the lives of these "godly" men and conclude that the Gospel must be nonsense. They look at the imperfect lives that are recorded in the Bible and conclude that the Gospel must be a sham. Yet God, in His wisdom, did not hide those stories. He did not conceal the greatest failings of the people He appointed to be prophets and kings and leaders. Also His faithful servants, who wrote and preserved the Scriptures, did not try to hide the embarrassing faults and failings of these figures. And what has the result been. Countless men and women have been turned away from the Gospel because of its imperfect exemplars. Countless others have found hope in its message--that God can use even imperfect and broken lives.

"It is so hard to imagine that God could be glorified by my weakness." But that is exactly what he has done and always does. Because He is a big God.

[Um... I said I would offer a few clarificatory remarks for my non-Christian readers. I think I'm going to save that for another entry. Bug me about it if I don't get to it very soon. But this entry is long enough and I'm sufficiently drained just writing what I have so far. Thanks for your patience.]

--

God is in this place,
And that reality, seen and understood by the grace of God in Christ Jesus through the work of the Holy Spirit, makes all the difference in the world.

(I know that I've written a good blog entry when the closing line--even though the words have not changed in almost two years' time--suddenly has a new and deeper meaning and significance for me.)