Perhaps it may turn out a sang,
Perhaps turn out a sermon.

-- R. Burns Epistle to a Young Friend

Wednesday, February 20, 2013

I Am Not Legend



I am not about to theologically thumb my nose at the wonder of the fact that the One who made us personally entered our world and seeks to come and be with me personally – so that I might dwell in him and he in me.  But I hasten to remind us both that we live with the paradox of the God within and the God without, the One who made us and the One who comes among us.

And I have a sense that the One who made us is not actually my personal God. 

… [I]t is really no surprise that my personal prayer to my personal Savior is all too often about one person.  Robert Benson, from In Constant Prayer, Thomas Nelson, 2008, pp. 52, 54


Then he said to them, “My soul is very sorrowful, even to death; remain here, and watch with me.”  And going a little farther he fell on his face and prayed, saying, “My Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as you will.”  And he came to the disciples and found them sleeping. And he said to Peter, “So, could you not watch with me one hour?” – Matthew 26:38-40


Benson’s little book is about the “daily office”, the prayers that are traditionally offered at specific times throughout the day.  What it amounts to, as I see it, is an opportunity, a segment of time that we can structure, a series of appointments we can plot in the planner so that our routine gets interrupted.  We need moments when we can say to the Lord, “Here I am.” 

The point in the passages quoted is that prayer, while it is meant to be personal, is not meant to be selfish or self-centered.  We see this all the time.  Purely personal existence is pointless.  A lot of modern Christianity, in its ill-advised quest to be culturally relevant, will sometimes give us ridiculous exaggerations that we take seriously.  For example, I have heard it proclaimed that Jesus would have gone to the Cross that one single soul might be saved.  There is, possibly, a grain of mystical truth buried deep in the dark and damp sentimentality of that statement, but I doubt that it would ever sprout and flourish.  Adam, alone, had no real reason to exist.  In fact, when God looked upon Adam, this unique and wonderful work, this masterpiece of His own creation, He said, “It is not good that man should be alone.”  Everything else about His creation, God sees as good.  This is the first time He saw something amiss in the material world.     

A man is meant to be part of a corporate existence.  The family, established and sanctified by the Lord, is the most essential and vital expression of that reality.  The Church, the mystical Bride, the Body of Christ is the ultimate reality into which we enter. 

Prayer that is purely personal -- once we get past, “Have mercy on me, a sinner”, though clearly sometimes necessary, should not consume all the time we spend with God.   Moving our focus from ourselves is more than good mental hygiene, though it is certainly that.  How many of the world’s ills would vanish in smoke and vapor if all of us were to grasp the simple maxim that it is not all about me?  The death of Narcissus would devastate certain aspects of the economy, but the rest would soon recover.

God will reveal Himself and His will to us if we will only ask and listen.  He will give us guidance and direction in our lives.  That is very personal, but it is also for the Body and for the Kingdom.  It is not good that we should be alone.        

2 comments:

John Lien said...

The point in the passages quoted is that prayer, while it is meant to be personal, is not meant to be selfish or self-centered. We see this all the time. Purely personal existence is pointless.

Yes, learned that the hard way. (Well, I hope I've learned that by now.) I guess this is another manifestation of the death of the old self and being re-born into the new. The new self is here to serve, even in prayer. (The old self is now doing an eyeroll at the new.)

mushroom said...

For me it was slow and hard, yep. I think I probably lived too much in my imagination of the future and not enough in the present.