4.3.08

State Street Café doesn’t offer free coffee refills, so in addition to my medium coffee I only bought one pastry out of spite, even though I was starving and my train didn’t arrive for another two hours. I thought about protesting and even quietly offering 50 cents to the guy at the register, but he didn’t seem like the kind to stray too far from store policy. Whatever dude, whatever.

In reflection of my 2.5 day retreat at the monastery I have been contemplating a rather serious question: what makes me as a Christian man any different than any other person?

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This post is half my thoughts and elaborations on this question, and half my actual learnings from my time communing with the monks, thus, if you are feeling led to actually read my incoherent jibber-jabber, then please bear these things in mind! Thanks!

What distinguishes me as a Christian? My ability to follow moral laws, like not smoking, swearing, or drinking are not only subjectively “grey areas,” but they are also ways in which non-Christian people determine how “good” they are. So anything I do probably shouldn’t be considered any kind of a standard or rule by which to differentiate myself.

It is worthy of note, however, that the things I choose to or not to do are between me and God and ought to be treated, at best, as things that open up the air-way for Him to speak to me.  But back to the original question: what makes me any different than any other person? If my ability to adhere to rules, laws, boundaries, etc., are not what determines my righteousness, then what does?

Before an action usually comes a decision made within the mind. Sometimes that mindful decision is a split second action, but whatever the effect after the decision (the action), there is always something that causes it. Perhaps this can be called the intent of oneself. For example, my action (or my “effect”) of buying a package of cigarettes inevitably comes from a particular decision made (namely, whether to buy the smokes or not), and this comes from an impulse or desire within me, and these impulses or desires are only present because of my beliefs as to whether or not smoking is allowable and disallowable.  In reverse sequence! A) I believe smoking is allowable; B) I have an impulse to smoke; C) I can buy a pack or not buy a pack; D) I act in smoking.

Now, to throw in yet another wrench in the process: I have to explore where A) (The belief) comes from. This might just lead me to an understanding of what makes me, the Christian, different than anybody non-Christian.  A non-Christian’s A) (beliefs) can come from a variety of sources. Sometimes it is from a nurturing parent who brings up a child to believe certain things about life. Sometimes it can be through friends, or it can be through the media—i.e. we learn to embrace what they tell us is “worth embracing.” Or, it can come through educational study when one chooses to reflect on and embrace the ways, traditions, values, etc., of someone, or some persons they learn about. Thus, beliefs clearly come from somewhere.

Now, the Christian gathers his A) from a variety of places too, but primarily, at least to be called a “Christian,” their A) should come from Christ. All things elsewhere come second to the establishing markers of Christ. Jesus said to seek first his kingdom and that all worries and burdens are answered or dealt with thereafter. Therefore, the kingdom of God is the primary establishing marker of a Christian in comparison to a non-Christian. The New Testament is very clear that the kingdom of God is Jesus’ ruling in our lives today. And how doe we allow Jesus to rule in our lives today? Such is a very vague question that begs explanation, especially to the young in the faith such as myself. Consider the following argument as an explanation for what Jesus’ ruling in our lives//as the kingdom of God//as the great distinguisher of the Christian form the non-Christian:
Jesus says in Matthew 10.38-39,

“…anyone who does not take his cross and follow me is not worthy of me. Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.”

The gospel of Luke says, “whoever would come after me must deny himself…” To follow Jesus requires self-denial, complete dedication, and willing obedience. But what do these concepts mean!?

Self-denial means in the face of a choice, denying what comes so naturally to the self (i.e. your consumeristic impulses, Aaron!). Fasting is a valuable spiritual practice that can teach one immensely about their need for God over the typical things that drive us in this world.

Complete dedication means being dedicated to the work of the kingdom even when you don’t really want to.

Willing obedience is like the aforementioned two in that it has to do with putting off what your addictions so naturally call for, and the things that drive your desires (effects).

“Whoever loses his live for my sake will find it.” This has so much to do with prioritizing than anything else. Putting first the work of the kingdom, which is learning to love God with all of one’s being—heart, soul, mind, strength—and loving one’s neighbor (Mark 12.30-31), is the great distinguisher between the Christian and the non-Christian. But let us remember, these are so much more than the effects of what is outwardly seen. As has been shown, first is one’s realigning with God, which the formulates beliefs for certain issues, which then explains the impulses/desires we have, which then show what our decisions to make will be, which then determine exactly what and why we make the decisions that we do.

What does “realigning with God” mean? Henri Nouwen suggests that God’s presence is often a hidden place, and I know from experience that finding God certainly does not come easily. In fact for me, the mere task of putting off myself and my impulses and desires for the desires of Jesus is not only extremely difficult, but in a loud, fast, consummeristic culture it is nearly impossible.

This trip for me was a hard one mainly because I expected to have some kind of encounter with God, and in so doing I left my “life” behind. When I was not having that graceful experience I immediately became extremely insecure, lonely, depressed, and sick of being at the retreat altogether. Quite honestly, I knew I could rest in God’s truths and my understanding that he was there never left me, but I could not wait to leave. Lately I have been really desiring to feel God, and hey, what better place for me to schedule in, map out, and plan to meet God than in the confines of a beautiful building with the company of 5 or 6 holy men?

Here’s another thought worthy of consideration: I cannot plan on meeting God. By that I mean, I cannot just tell myself that God and I are going to meet up for some coffee and Benedictine-style prayer just because it is most convenient for me.

God bless the men and women over time who have chosen to give up the busy, noisy, complicated life for the quiet and simple life. But something tells me that these men and women do not become monks or nuns just to “feel” God more closely. Vocations are different for all people, therefore we cannot judge one another for the direction we are going, so long as it is not something done in sin. But far be it from us to do the sort of thing that I did while preparing for and being at the monastery, which was, namely, using God like an alcoholic uses a case of beer, or like a smoker uses a pack of smokes everyday. God is not an ecstatic pain reliever used to fill my holes.
I learned on this trip that I have many holes, and that everytime I tied to fill them with a hocus-pocus God-saying (scripture recitation/truth about God), I only drifted further from what time with God actually ought to be about: learning to better understand him. I am, after all, in a relationship with him, right?

As I sat alone quietly chewing my croissant at the stingy café, I could not help but be discouraged about my trip. I felt as though it was a waste of time, mostly because I was probably too young in age and faith. It was at that thought, however, that I remembered Nouwen’s words on Christian maturity: “the ability and willingness to be led where you would rather not go.”  It was then that I came to my original question of examination, and admittedly with the help of reading Matthew 10, of what distinguishes Aaron Green, the 23 year-old Christian, from anyone who calls himself anything but a Christian.

I knew God would teach me a very valuable lesson while at or over the extent of the retreat. But without the near miserable experience of not hearing God speak, or feeling his presence when I wanted it (my agenda of expecting God to speak because that was what I wanted), I would have never come to the realization I did while putting along on my train-ride home:

God will not be bound by my plan. God will teach in ways I don’t understand. God must be found, and usually in the hidden places of life. God will not be used to fill consumeristic holes as a cigarette would for the smoker, or a beer would for the alcoholic. He is what he is, and he is in fact a being to be related with, and a truth to point one’s life after.