Monday, March 26, 2018

Lessons from Literature: How to Be Your True Self (The Lady’s Confession)

It has been fairly exactly a year since we last explored a lesson from a literary classic. In truth, I was stunned when I realized it had been that long! So let us end the drought by looking at a nineteenth-century Scottish author who inspired C. S. Lewis and whose books have been re-popularized in recent years through Michael Phillips’s editorial work. His name is George MacDonald, and he possesses that Austen-esque intuition into the human condition with the added potency spiritual astuteness.  

Having known of him for some time, it wasn’t until a few months ago, when a friend let me borrow one of his trilogies republished under the new title The Curate of Glaston, that I became acquainted with his work first-hand. I’m reading the last of the three novels currently, and MacDonald’s work so far has proved to be the kind that leaves me almost speechless from the sheer volume of truth it contains.

Sometimes, the only thing I can think to say, on repeat, is, “It’s just so good.” So good, in fact, that I could probably write a dozen “Lessons from Literature” posts just from the two novels I’ve already read. But let’s just start with one, shall we?

In previous posts in this series, we’ve seen truths expressed through the characters’ actions and some through the author’s commentary. MacDonald’s writings are full of both. In reading them we can learn much, both from what his characters do, say, and think and from his direct addresses to his audience. In this post, we’ll look at two passages of direct address that shed light on a central theme—namely, being fully ourselves.

We live in a culture that is preoccupied—even obsessed—with individuality, being confident in who we are, not being intimidated into hiding our “true selves.” But no one seems to think much about how we actually know who our true selves are. Do we get to define what makes us “us”?

If we listened to our culture, we would hear it say, “Absolutely! You define your own destiny. You can be whoever you want to be.” And in some small way, that is true insofar as we have been given the ability to make choices that have consequences that, in turn, can shape our circumstances and even our attitudes, mindsets, and personal contexts out of which we evaluate and respond to others. But is any of that what creates our core identity?

MacDonald doesn’t think so. He declares in The Lady’s Confession (originally titled Paul Faber, Surgeon), “Only in the unfolding of the Christ in every man or woman can the individuality, his or her genuine personality, the flower of his nature, be developed and perfected in its own distinct loveliness” (p. 193). Read that sentence again—slowly—and let it sink in. It’s message is in direct conflict with what our society’s impression of Christianity is, but it’s in complete agreement with God’s Word.

Society often has the idea that becoming a Christian involves joining a community that strips you of the “freedom to be yourself” and makes you a cookie-cutter person following a set of rules. The world doesn’t understand that while we do, in a sense, lose ourselves when we follow Christ (Matthew 16:24, Galatians 2:20), we are only losing the worst part of us—our identity as sinners, our selfish desires, and pride—so that the best part of us—our God-given personalities, talents, and gifts—can actually flourish as our identity becomes children of God. 

Instead of the reality being that following Christ squashes a person’s individuality, the exact opposite is true—we can never truly be ourselves outside of a relationship with Jesus Christ. Why? Because God is the One who created us in His own image and, therefore, designed every part of who we are (Genesis 1:27, Psalm 139:14).

When we speak of our “fallen human nature,” there is no comma between “fallen” and “human.” The two words are not adjectives both equally describing “nature.” Instead, “fallen” describes “human.” In other words, Adam and Eve were perfectly themselves before they rebelled against God (and event we call The Fall); they were completely whole, fully human as God had designed them. But after their rebellion they were not complete. Their human nature was broken and flawed, and they were not able to be fully themselves.

As their descendants, we are born with the same problem, the same fractured nature. That’s why it is only when we let God inform us through His Word and His Spirit (who lives within us when we become God’s children) that we can know who we really are and live accordingly. And it is only then that we will find personal satisfaction and fulfillment.

A related truth that is counter to the world’s message is that our individuality is not best displayed in being self-sufficient. Especially in America, we’re all about “picking ourselves up” and taking pride in our personal independence. But is that the mark of a truly successful life? Will that bring satisfaction?

Again, MacDonald doesn’t think so. He explains through his character Thomas Wingfold’s words: “He is not the greatest man who is most independent, but he who thirsts most after a conscious harmony with every element and portion of the mighty whole, and who demands from every region its influences to perfect his individuality. […] The finest and strongest is that which to live must breathe essential life, self-willed life, God himself” (p. 112). The “mighty whole” he speaks of is God, the One in whom is the fullness of life, indeed, who is the origin of life itself. It is only in recognizing our need for something—or Someone—outside of and far greater than ourselves and in finding that need met in God that we become strong and can become most fully ourselves.

As Jesus (i.e. God) Himself said, “Abide in me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit by itself, unless it abides in the vine, neither can you, unless you abide in me. I am the vine; you are the branches. Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing. […] These things I have spoken to you, that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be full” (John 15:4-5, 11, ESV). True, enduring growth, flourishing, and joy can only come through Jesus.

We have a Creator who has designed us specifically, masterfully, and caringly, and He calls us to Himself so that in bearing fruit and becoming more like Christ we finally can be our true selves in order to display His glory and further His kingdom. He has made us who we are, and He uses who we are to bring glory to His Name. What a beautiful, encouraging, humbling truth to absorb!



Source: MacDonald, George (Phillips, Michael, ed.) The Curate of Glaston. Minneapolis: Bethany House, 1986.


Monday, March 12, 2018

Thankful for the Journey

Teleportation. If I could have any superpower, that’s what it would be.  Being a history-lover, I used to say time travel, but fifteen years of living twelve hours away from first family and then friends has solidly changed my answer.

Physical distance is just so hard, partly because so much is required to overcome it--time, money, health, transportation. And when those things are lacking, it means missing birthdays, funerals, weddings, children being born and growing up, in-person conversations, and hugs. Even when time and money are available, they are necessarily spent in the process of traveling from one point to another. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could just snap our fingers and be 600 miles away—or rather, 600 miles near? Think of all we could gain.

But I wonder, too, what we would lose. If teleportation was among our abilities, there would be no more full-day-long car rides, no commutes, no waiting in airports. Doesn’t sound too bad, right? But that also means there would be no playing road games, no daydreaming as the clouds roll by, no watching the scenery gradually change from flatlands to rolling hills to mountains, no time to sit and be alone with your thoughts—or a good book—for hours on end. 

Travel has a way of slowing us down, even as we’re speeding down the highway or soaring through the air. The craziness of life gets put on hold for thirty minutes or thirteen hours, and we have a chance to breathe, to reflect, to ponder. If there was no need to travel, everything would be more nonstop than it already is. There would be no pause, no perspective, no journey. And I daresay we wouldn’t be as appreciative of what’s at the end of the road—whether it be family, friends, or favorite places—if it didn’t cost us something to get to them.

Life without travel might sound nice (by travel, I mean the necessary movement to get from one place to another, not the process of exploring the world), but life without journey certainly would not be.

On a much deeper level, the same could be said for our spiritual lives. If you’re like me, the older you get, the more you wish we could just skip the expense of the time and discipline and cost that goes into the process of our sanctification, i.e. of God’s making us more like Jesus. Sometimes it seems it would be wonderful if we could just snap our fingers and be in our perfected state, like we will be when we leave this earth and enter the tangible presence of Jesus.

But just as with teleportation, if this were possible we would lose so much. There would be no more leaning on Jesus for daily strength to fight our besetting sin, no more sense of victory when by God’s grace we overcome the temptations of this world, no more watching the scenery of our personal, spiritual landscape change from mounds of clay to a beautifully formed vessel, no more urgent need to plead daily with God in prayer.

As physical journeys, whether great or small, give us a deeper perspective on the value of relationships and time, our spiritual journey gives us a deeper perspective on the value of the most important relationship we’ll ever have—that with the living God—and the timing that is always perfect—His.

So next time I leave work so mentally exhausted that I don’t want to go through the relatively short commute home or the next time I have to drive over 600 miles just to see dear friends, I’ll try not to wish I could teleport and be done with it. Instead, I’ll try to be thankful for the journey with all of the blessings it brings. And I’ll be reminded to be thankful for the more meaningful journey that I am on with Christ Jesus, for, although it can be tiring and uncomfortable at times, it will all be worth it in the end, and I will love Him all the more for the journey He so tenderly leads me through. 

Are you on a journey with Him? And if you are, have you thanked Him lately?