Losing Control
"We admitted we were powerless over alcohol - that our lives had become unmanageable." - Step One, The Twelve Steps of Alcoholics Anonymous.
If an apprentice of Jesus were to redraft the steps as a means of reorienting their life around the kingdom of God, what would step one sound like? Possibly something like this:
"We admitted we were powerless over our society's expectations of the "good life" - money, power, influence, self esteem, relevance, being busy - that our lives had become unmanageable."
You see, we don't have a problem admitting specific addictions - something that our bodies are drawn too when things are difficult as a source of "relief". But AA would argue that addictions such as those are symptoms of a greater illness. We have the illusion of being in control, when in fact we are dominated by almost anything our bodies tell us to do.
You might say, "But I'm not addicted to alcohol or drugs. I don't have a sexual addiction or want to gorge out on food. How can you tell me that my life is out of control?" What makes you so sure? I am beginning to come to understand (and I point my finger at myself first) that this might be the "narrow gate" Jesus spoke of for our day and time. It is obvious by now that saying the sinner's prayer, reading the Bible and praying, going to church and listening to sermons will not guarantee a transformed life. One only look at Barna's statistics or just take an honest look beneath the velvet exteriors of most churches. But even within us who have organized ourselves in new, simpler ways of being the church, the wide path still beckons. How easy is it to tweak church models without dealing with the greater illness in our souls? A little too easy I'm afraid.
Powerlessness. Something I've been thinking about a lot lately. Losing two peers to unexpected illness, one dying in the space of a week, will bring to bear the utter lack of power we have in ourselves to control our own destinies. "I am the captain of my soul, the master of my fate." We like to believe that, don't we? Particularly as people who have invested so much in this American success project. But look at the guilt that consumes our lives. We feel guilty for driving a gas guzzler, so we buy a hybrid that gets 25 mpg instead of 20. We feel guilty for watching Katrina victims on TV so we create a media system that focuses more on the controversy surrounding the event than communicating the horrors that actual people like you and me are facing. We feel guilty for not being more like Jesus, so we reinvent Jesus as either untouchable sacrificial-deity or self-help guru and live accordingly.
Amber and I have recently been spending some time taking an inventory of our lives. It is not an easy task. We so quickly want to move past this stage into, "So what can I do about it?" What steps can I take, right now, so I don't have to feel ugly like this anymore? Step One directly challenges that drive within to manage our pain, to put band-aids on our hemorrhaging wounds. Jesus, through the narrow gate, beckons us to follow him on a trail with no markers. He is a good guide, and we must trust him with everything...which is the scariest thought I have ever had my entire life.
If an apprentice of Jesus were to redraft the steps as a means of reorienting their life around the kingdom of God, what would step one sound like? Possibly something like this:
"We admitted we were powerless over our society's expectations of the "good life" - money, power, influence, self esteem, relevance, being busy - that our lives had become unmanageable."
You see, we don't have a problem admitting specific addictions - something that our bodies are drawn too when things are difficult as a source of "relief". But AA would argue that addictions such as those are symptoms of a greater illness. We have the illusion of being in control, when in fact we are dominated by almost anything our bodies tell us to do.
You might say, "But I'm not addicted to alcohol or drugs. I don't have a sexual addiction or want to gorge out on food. How can you tell me that my life is out of control?" What makes you so sure? I am beginning to come to understand (and I point my finger at myself first) that this might be the "narrow gate" Jesus spoke of for our day and time. It is obvious by now that saying the sinner's prayer, reading the Bible and praying, going to church and listening to sermons will not guarantee a transformed life. One only look at Barna's statistics or just take an honest look beneath the velvet exteriors of most churches. But even within us who have organized ourselves in new, simpler ways of being the church, the wide path still beckons. How easy is it to tweak church models without dealing with the greater illness in our souls? A little too easy I'm afraid.
Powerlessness. Something I've been thinking about a lot lately. Losing two peers to unexpected illness, one dying in the space of a week, will bring to bear the utter lack of power we have in ourselves to control our own destinies. "I am the captain of my soul, the master of my fate." We like to believe that, don't we? Particularly as people who have invested so much in this American success project. But look at the guilt that consumes our lives. We feel guilty for driving a gas guzzler, so we buy a hybrid that gets 25 mpg instead of 20. We feel guilty for watching Katrina victims on TV so we create a media system that focuses more on the controversy surrounding the event than communicating the horrors that actual people like you and me are facing. We feel guilty for not being more like Jesus, so we reinvent Jesus as either untouchable sacrificial-deity or self-help guru and live accordingly.
Amber and I have recently been spending some time taking an inventory of our lives. It is not an easy task. We so quickly want to move past this stage into, "So what can I do about it?" What steps can I take, right now, so I don't have to feel ugly like this anymore? Step One directly challenges that drive within to manage our pain, to put band-aids on our hemorrhaging wounds. Jesus, through the narrow gate, beckons us to follow him on a trail with no markers. He is a good guide, and we must trust him with everything...which is the scariest thought I have ever had my entire life.
posted by Mike Bishop at 7:04 AM
6 Comments:
You know - this is a great post - one I hope everyone actually READS... not just skims... it reminds me a little of 1 Peter 4:1-6, where we are called to actually "be different" (not just "live different") because of our connection with Christ... we are called to "go against the flow" - and that's not easy - only better.
I like it. Part of me says "Yeah, this is the same old ground we've been covering for years" but then again we need to constantly keep ourselves steered this way against the grain and pressures that resist the lifestyle of selflessness. It *should* be scary because without fear there can be no courage (and it needs courage), and it *should* be done with tears, for tears provide the only telescope of the heart through which we can behold heaven. (Otherwise we are just playing around with our own ideas.) Repentance (or "turning") is not a one-time event but a course. It seems we've jumped the hurdle of articulating this stuff as you've done a great job of doing here, but living it has an altogether seperate pricetag (which you've also acknowledged). The weird thing is, that the closer I get, inching toward this ideal, the further away I feel. I'm a million miles from Christ. I'm sure glad He chooses to be here with me, for my soul is vile, betraying and stubborn in essence without Him. He vexes me in my passivity and lures me out of the dark inward dens of my soul like an adulterous man being dragged from a brothel. I'm the bruised reed and contrite heart, a smoldering wick. Yet He witholds His judgement and through mind-boggling grace shows me that I'm not despised. A mystery indeed!
That rocks. I just posted on this and then read your blog. I'm excited about what God is inviting us into. Amen.
Aslan is on the move. It is good to know what God has been speaking to me is something very similar to your post. Our souls are sick and wounded and only the Almighty can bind up our wounds.
Another on the narrow road.
Good words Bish.
From someone who is addicted to alcohol...Step One is life saving. Admitting that I'm powerless is scary but it's the only way I will ever have a chance of moving forward.
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