Ephesians 4:11-14.
“It was he who gave some to be apostles, some to be prophets, some to be
evangelists, and some to be pastors and teachers, to prepare God’s people for
works of service, so that the body of Christ may be built up until we all reach
unity in the faith and in the knowledge of the Son of God and become mature,
attaining to the whole measure of the fullness of Christ. Then we will no longer be infants, tossed
back and forth by the waves, and blown here and there by every wind of teaching
and by the cunning and craftiness of people in their deceitful scheming.”
“And we, who with
unveiled faces all reflect the Lord’s glory, and being transformed into his
likeness with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the
Spirit.” II Corinthians 3:18
Getting from Sunday to Monday is a
code phrase for bridging the gap between belief and experience, between what we
say, and what we do. It reflects our desire to live authentically, so that the
"trip" from the head to the heart--and eventually to the hand--is
congruent with the true self, or God's will for us.
We sense the gap between what we
hope and profess to be true of us on Sunday to our experience of our lives on
Monday.
At some point, we, as human beings,
become aware of this gap between our beliefs and our experience and begin to
wrestle with our questions about how to live authentically. The desire to enter
those questions, and as the German poet Rainer Maria Rilke wrote, to "live
into the answers," usually occurs in mid to later life---though not
always. God created us in such a remarkable way that we are actually wired for
growth that leads us closer and closer to communion with God-- to knowledge of
God, not merely about God, a knowing of the heart, not just the head. Evidence
of this wiring (our hearts are restless until they find their rest in thee,
according to St. Augustine) is found in what most of us experience around
mid-life. We get this yearning to live with more authenticity, and if we
respond to that yearning (instead of shoving it back down again), it can be an
unsettling enterprise, not only to ourselves, but also to those in our
relational orbit.
No matter how many books we read,
how much information we soak up, no one can do it for us; the individual
journey becomes uniquely our own. Secondhand information may inspire and
entertain, even guide us, but in the final analysis, it is still secondhand.
We need to distinguish the Journey
from the map.
One way to understand the
significance of firsthand experience is to use the simple analogy of a person
who wants to drive from Logansport to Ft. Lauderdale. If I were preparing for
such a trip, I would definitely spend some time with a map, whether on my
computer or my phone. I would make sure my car was ready. As old as my cars
are, I would probably rent a car for this journey. I would think through
everything I might need on the journey. However, you know as well as I do that
I can study that map, be aware of the detours, talk to others who have made the
trip--in fact, I could memorize the map and quote it, become an expert on the
map--but I would still be in Logansport. The truth is I must experience the
journey myself.
Even if this oversimplifies the case, the
symbols work for our spiritual lives. Whether we identify the map as the Bible
or church doctrine or the American Way, any map is just a guide to the journey.
But because we often do not want to risk the vulnerability of the personal
journey, we often, in our religious fervor, mistake the map for the journey and
end up worshipping the map. One could be a great scholar of the Bible and not
have a transformed heart. One could be mean-spirited and judgmental, rather
than loving. Information is not necessarily TRANSformation! Unless we invite
the Living Word of God into our lives, even a sacred text can just be words on
a page.
A brief look at another familiar
map can provide a segue into part of the journey. United Methodists call this
model the Wesley Quadrilateral, illustrated as a table supported by four legs.
Simply stated, it is this: The Truth of Something (top of the table) is
supported by four things (legs of the table)-- scripture, tradition, reason,
and experience.
I think we would all agree that
through the years, the church has done a creditable job in the first three
areas: We have Bible studies and emphasize the primacy of scripture; we provide
studies of doctrine and liturgy and church tradition; heaven knows we try to
"think" ourselves to the truth--with lots of classes and seminars and
academic pursuits in an effort to be reasonable. But what about this fourth
area--experience? It tends to get short shrift. Experience is murky, messy. It
is not the same for everyone; there are always exceptions. We cannot seem to
control experience, quantify it or pin it down. It's uncomfortable because it
doesn't always fit or make reasonable sense. No wonder it is hard to bridge the
gap between Sunday theory and Monday experience!
Regardless of our understanding of
truth, unless we integrate this area of experience, the other three legs have
no staying power; they cannot support the table for long. That is, no matter
how authoritative it sounds in the Bible, or how eloquently stated by the
church fathers, or how intellectually sound it may seem, unless it resonates
somehow in our experience, it remains just a good idea--a pretty Sunday morning
platitude. And THAT, by the way, is where our spiritual journey oftentimes
takes place -- in the head, where we can control and isolate it.
The journey involves moving from Thought to Feeling
The trip from the head to the heart
is not an easy trek; it is filled with detours and land mines and, strangely
enough, incredible freedom. It is in this personal experiential part of the
journey that we discover the meaning of true freedom in Christ. Think about it:
Faith as a belief system ONLY has very little power. We can believe all the
right things and still be mean-spirited; we can believe all the right things
and still be miserable; we can believe all the right things and still be in
bondage; we can believe all the right things and still be relatively
untransformed. Faith is more than that. It is borne through one's EXPERIENCE of
God, not knowledge about God.
The
temptation is always present to turn what needs to be a personal wrestling with
God into little more than an external system of belief or ritualistic habits.
Do not get me wrong, for thinking through what you believe in connection with
new knowledge gained and establishing good habits are both important. Yet, it
seems that a spiritual itch is always there, a divine discontent, that nudges
us toward closer friendship with God. For many of us, we would rather read a
book about prayer, or be in a group and discuss prayer and the inner life, but
never actually engage in its practice.
We need to embark upon the journey.
What does it mean to "take the
journey ourselves"? Remember that we have free will: We can refuse to
move, to explore, or to take the trip. God's love always surrounds us and
invites us, but God's full healing seems to wait for our longing and consent,
for the inner YES that indicates that our center of consent is engaged. We are
not helpless puppets. God has created us to be children, heirs, partners,
co-creators with God.
One danger in all of this is that
we turn such an exploration into spiritual growth into a narcissistic career of
self-knowledge and intellectual navel-gazing. In fact, genuine spiritual
transformation is for the sake of the mission of God to transform the world and
not just your individual life. Becoming a servant of others is not just part of
the process, but the goal. What happens in our inner work re-energizes us for
living and serving daily with integrity and with pure motives. In reality, our
lives need to reflect the natural and ebb and flow of inner and outer life. If
you become an empty cup, however, you will nourish no one.
Believe it or not, every one of us
is on a spiritual journey. It is who we are. Pierre de Chardin, in The Phenomenon of Man (1955) said, “We
are not human beings having a spiritual experience; we are spiritual beings
having a human experience.” People often paraphrase it to say that we are not
so much human beings on a spiritual journey, as we are spiritual beings on a
human journey. This reality is why we ought never to find complete satisfaction
with our lives with God or with others. Our spiritual nature always hungers for
more. We simply pay more attention to it at some times than at others.
Surprisingly, this process is more
about letting go than trying harder. We need to learn different ways we can
loosen our grip and open ourselves to God's guiding hand.
This series has its basis in the following. It spoke to me, and I hope it speaks to you as well.
This series has its basis in the following. It spoke to me, and I hope it speaks to you as well.
Douty, Linda R. "Getting from Sunday to Monday."
Stepping Stones for Spiritual Growth, 2002, explorefaith.org.
Maybe
the real test of Sunday is not how you come in but how you go out.
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