1. Who do they say that we are? (Sept 20/13)
2. Who do you say that I am? (Sept 26/13)
3. Who do I say that you are? (Oct 4/13)
4. Who do we say that we are? (Oct 12/13)
Who do I say that you are?
As I begin this third blog in this series, I realise that the questions – as I guess whenever one is asked – are not just about the exterior world, but also reflect one’s own interior. I wonder, as this series continues, how much the questions are as much about the context in which the church finds itself, as well as about me? As a person who – I believe – is able to ask helpful and useful questions, what is my own responsibility in being able to answer them for myself, as both a hallmark of my discipleship, as well as an indicator of my commitment to self-reflection and growth? I might even muse, do I walk my talk, or just talk the talk …
For those who are seeking, I experience you as someone who is wary of institutional faith, yet is longing to find a place to talk about the ‘big stuff.’ You know (for instance): life; death; illness; and, the inequities you see with each media clip from the TV news or a YouTube video, which has gone viral. And in that longing to find places to dig deep and ask questions that are perhaps vulnerable making, institutional religion, just does not seem safe …
For those in the institution, who have made a commitment to find ways to wrestle with faith in an organised body, I worry that you no longer trust. I sense a deep sadness that sometimes seems to lead you to places where there is not enough, where lament has forgotten the Psalmists reminder of Gratitude. I pray for you that, in these places of melancholy and despair, we do not begin to hurt one another, whether consciously or not. It sometimes seems that the structures – whether brick and mortar or polity and process – has become a block to asking the question: Where are we being called to be the Good News in a changing landscape …
And then there’s those who are angry, hurt and – often – appropriately so distrustful of anyone who broaches topics from a faith-based lens. And in these places of dis-ease, all religion (especially Christianity) is the place where those tumultuous experiences and emotions get parked. You use broad strokes and paint us all as complicit. We may certainly need to recognise our culpability, but the rawness of your ire does not allow me to have a conversation with you … and with humility … I need to recognise you may very well never want to …
Whoever you are … or at least the story I try to tell about you, I must find ways to let go of my assumptions, prejudices and phobias. I cannot force you through a door, I cannot convince you of something and I must be clear that my faith journey is not a one-size-fits-all … What is clear to me, is that I cannot do anything other than to wait and be present for when those conversations bloom that possess the potential for mutual transformation. One of the things that is key to my understanding of this journey of faith, is that it is only when listening begins that things begin to change … and that change is never one way and that is both a gift and – at the very least – anxious making …
Your reflections are most welcome!