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the great reversal
For the past 2 years I have not been much of a fan of Scripture. Truth be told, I have only been reading my Bible sporadically, and most of those scattered times were because I needed to for whatever reason. It just didn’t communicate as a source of life but rather like a closed and indexed collection of sometimes-engaging tales that belonged more in a gallery than in my hands. I couldn’t muster the interest, let alone desire, to approach the God of a fossilized testament. In many ways, I simply stopped caring.
And then in February it all changed. With the help of a fellow seeker I was reintroduced to the texture and the previously unfelt energy of the Bible. That’s not to say that all of a sudden my brain switched to ‘proper Christian’ mode or miraculously snapped out of some coma but that, instead, and with a little help, my heart has finally begun to beat again.
I think as Christians we are confronted by an endless parade of models and ideals for what the exemplary Christian looks like. We hear in sermons, read in literature, and swim in a great stream of pop spiritual media the great machines at work, all working valiantly to project out in front of us the kinds of people we should be and the kinds of lives we ought to be leading according to the paradigm of the day. And in compiling this great depiction of the exemplary believer, the ideals manage to miss out on the real person living in real situations, who tries to meet that usually unreal expectation, but seldom comes anywhere close to the mark. And so we shrink back in disappointment, still struggling to compare ourselves with one another, making sure that we at least look like THIS percentage of the ideal or that we practice spirituality at least better than THAT person, but in playing these games of futility, it seems like more often we end up only scrambling for the scraps of spirituality because the real meal is just so unattainable. We resign ourselves to seeing through a glass darkly, never truly expecting that we will ever become much more that exhausted shadows of poster-worthy Christians. And in a skewed way, I think the Bible was doing that to me even with Jesus, painting Jesus as the ideal for what my life is supposed to look like. And since my actions and thoughts paled in comparison to his, the life of working my soul to the bone to become Jesus was poisoning me and cutting me off from the very source of life himself.
And then I was shown the passage that changed it all, John 21:20-21. As written in The Message:
Turning his head, Peter noticed the disciple Jesus loved following right behind. When Peter noticed him, he asked Jesus, “Master, what’s going to happen to him?”
Jesus said, “If I want him to live until I come again, what’s that to you? You - follow me.”
For me, this split the heavens wide open. I read this and I began seeing the posters ripped from the walls, cardboard cut-outs stomped to the ground, and straw men torn to shreds. This, for me, was the Great Reversal. I had for so long been shoving Jesus aside in order to pattern myself after his images on church billboards that I had lost the point of religion and spirituality and a concern for God. In so doing I had lost that thing that was supposed to be foundational and had given up on its meaningfulness and relevance… and I had given up on myself as being anything but a rag doll blown around in the vacuum of what’s left behind when faith evaporates.
But I had it all reversed. God doesn’t want me to PROVE how like Jesus I am. He doesn’t want me to commit myself to works righteousness in order to become that gleaming image of the perfect Christian. he wants me to follow him, in as basic a sense as I can convey that. Not predict where I think he’s going and hook up with him later. Not bury myself in Christian knowledge and cliches so that I have an answer to every little thing. Just follow. Literally watch where he puts his feet and try to keep mine within the same trail of footsteps as I walk along behind him. I don’t have to know where he’s going, and really, I don’t need to know. And, as the passage above seems to imply, that means that I matter. Me, Graham, for all of my great strengths and crippling weaknesses. Jesus had other trails for John to follow, other plans he had in mind for Peter, and that personalization of faith, of asking his followers to trust him, brought Jesus from the edge of a distant oblivion to a nearness that the hairs on my skin could feel. I’ll try to flesh this out later, but for the time being, the burden has lifted and I can forget about all that other stuff, all that doing I hold as so important to my exercise of faith, and just follow, knowing that I am accepted, that I am loved, and that I am being led. Me.