What God Wants For Your Life

We were on a mission to find Indian Food at one of our favorite restaurants and en route we were listening to NPR’s “Fresh Air.”  Terry Gross was interviewing Nick Paumgarten and we caught the conversation midstream.

Paumgarten was talking about on-line dating and observed that one of the random indicators he had found of potential marital bliss was whether or not a couple agreed on their like — or dislike — of horror films.  What about you, he asked Ms. Gross.

His host was diffident and responded, well, it depends on what you mean by horror films — classic or new, slasher movies or…

Woa! Paumgarten responded.  This is a binary thing.  You’re for them or against them.  If you want to qualify your view you’re not going to get dates.

That’s right.  And that’s precisely the problem with our society today.  That’s why we name-call, instead of discussing issues.  We brand and exile people who don’t agree with us.  Our news commentators and their guests talk over one another, scream, and shout.  Our politicians battle away at one another defending old positions and programs — and why none of them are capable of entertaining new ideas.  That’s also why, even in the church — if you want to get ahead, you are forced to choose a side.

For far too many people there is, quite simply, never any more than two choices available.  Left, right — up, down — black, white — yes, no.  Most of life doesn’t yield to that binary pattern, but we have imposed that pattern on it.

It won’t matter to everyone, but to those who care, it’s time to hear this and hear it clearly:

“God is not on your side.”

You meant “their” side, right?  No, I meant “your” side (And, by the way, God is not on my side, either.)

Let me elaborate (so that I avoid being binary!): In life, there are a handful of occasions when picking a side will likely put you on God’s side.  Cheating on your taxes, taking your neighbor’s life without provocation, abusing a child — under those circumstances it’s not hard to figure out where God stands.  But the problem is that most of those choices are pretty obvious and they almost never present themselves in real life.  The vast majority of life is not like that.

More importantly, from a spiritual point of view, when we conclude that we have done what God wants us to do by making those binary choices, the choice becomes an end in itself — a god of our own making.  And that’s why I think it’s time for us to hear, “God is not on your side.”

Every time Jesus was approached with a binary choice and asked —

tell me who to love and who to hate,

tell me who to forgive and how often to forgive them,

tell me who to serve, God or Caesar

— Jesus insisted on listening to God, instead of giving an answer.

Bob Lyon, a dear friend, mentor, and teacher, used to observe: Christians are meant to be a part of “the loyal opposition” — because God is “the loyal opposition.”  Everytime we want to draw a line, check off a box, or make a choice, God responds, “No, there’s more to hear — listen to me.”  And I think Bob was right.

As long as we reward binary behavior — make a choice, get a date — make a choice, get elected — make a choice, get a job — make a choice, find a welcome — the binary choices will look like the only thing possible.  They will also be all we have.

God is not on our side — yours or mine.  God doesn’t need a side.  We need to listen.  When we do, we will find fresh vision and insight — as well as new depth of community.  We will also find God, instead of our feeble binary interpretations of what God wants.

Wisdom is not an accident.  It is not the peculiar endowment of a select few.  It can be discovered, accumulated, cultivated, and appropriated.  But you need to care.  You need to pay attention.

It is a choice.

Wisdom requires awareness, devotion, effort, and focus.  You cannot age into wisdom, run into wisdom, or borrow it.  It is not a part-time job, a hobby, a serendipity, or recreation.

It is a way of life.

The fabric of life yields insights, but it requires interpretation.  It requires a lens.  One lens will dominate.

It is a way of seeing.

We can craft wisdom of our own making, or we can see the world through the eye of God.

Wisdom is a choice.

If you are reading this, we are (mostly) all still here and the end is not yet.  May 21, 2011 has come and gone and here we are.  So, perhaps it’s time to ask what “the end” is all about.

Obviously, for some it’s about getting the date right.  Deciding whose left behind, caught by “the thief in the night”  — a brick short of the full spiritual load — and, of course, the wise virgin and the faithful watcher.  What so much of the contemporary conversation about the end focuses on is that all important, ever relevant, irrepressible question: “What’s going to happen to me?”

So, the questions revolve around “Where am I going?”  “When will I get there?” and “What is required to make sure that happens?”  And, if not, then there are the questions that arise from a zero-sum spirituality: “Who’s not going?” — because I can’t go to heaven unless you go to hell.

But have you ever wondered why the Bible is so damned (pun intended) fuzzy about all of that?  Have you ever asked yourself, “Why is the best answer to all of those questions, ‘What kind of God do you believe in?’”

The answer?  The Bible doesn’t care about the answer.  So it doesn’t try to answer.  The answer Job’s author offers is typical.  In response to Job’s demands for an answer, God responds, “Were you around when the foundations of the world were laid?”  Similarly, the writer of Revelation effectively argues, “God wins…hope you are going along for the ride.”

The Bible isn’t all that worried about you and me.  It’s worried about the fact that God made claims that history seems to frustrate.

So, when the Bible talks about the end, it’s all about how God makes good on those promises.  It’s not that God doesn’t love you or me.  The stakes are just larger.

That’s good news really.  God is committed to something bigger than you and me and we get to go along for the ride.  God is committed to being God.

The details?  Is Ghandi in heaven?  What about people who haven’t heard or think differently?  Questions like that are above our pay grade.

We were called to participate in the Kingdom.

To usher in its existence — among the weeds in the field and the wheat husks on the threshing floor.  That’s more than enough.

Open yourself to the call of God.  Weigh in.  Participate.  But don’t take yourself so seriously.  After all — it’s not the end — yet.

The namesake of my wife’s parish is the Good Samaritan.  So I have been more alert to that great figure in the teaching of Jesus than I might be otherwise.  Of course, the Samaritan has a proverbial and cross-cultural hold on our minds — so he commands a bit of attention all on his own.  Along the way, I’ve come to the conclusion that the Samaritan could use some saving.

What is striking to me is how little the parable is actually understood.

• It is not about what we should do.

• It’s about who does what should be done.

• And more specifically, it’s about the unexpected sanctity of one who — by definition — most Jews assumed lacked a capacity for the things of God.

It’s strange, then, to discover that so many focus on what he does and then ask themselves, who are my needy neighbors or how can I act like a Good Samaritan?  But, then again, perhaps that isn’t really all that strange.  The scribe questioning Jesus wanted to know who the neighbor was — wanted to pin it down and quantify his obligation.  So, it isn’t really all that surprising that we do the same thing.

It’s strange, too, to discover that for many the parable is about the victim. It isn’t that either.  But there are things that ought to be said about him as well.

• He is not the everyman of people in need.

• There is no roadmap here to caring effectively for people, while avoiding the errors of codependency, for example.

• He is not the addict, the alcoholic, the compulsive gambler, the abusive husband, or the convicted felon.

He is the victim of random violence and he is unclean by religious standards.  So, he sets the stage for the behavior of the Samaritan — who values mercy over observance of the Law and is, therefore, the unexpected agent of God’s reign.

And that’s the point.  The Samaritan isn’t a do-gooder, a codependent deeply drawn to anyone in distress, a legalist who is afraid he will fail to do the right thing, or a social activist.  He is an agent of God’s reign who responds to the priority that God gives to the exercise of mercy.

The potent combination of inner priority and the exercise of mercy is worth contemplating.

I often get the impression that at least some people believe that an emphasis on the spiritual life will rob the church of its ability to reach out to others.  It can, I suppose.  And there are certain brands of spirituality that are more likely to feed a narcissistic quietism than others.

But when Jesus was asked, “Who is my neighbor?” he declined to answer and, instead, describes one whose inward orientation made him the reliable agent of God’s work.  The Samaritan exhibits the kind of spirituality that grounds a life of active mercy.

His spirituality isn’t a dead end.  It isn’t about his feelings or his eternal fortunes.  It’s about a spirituality shaped by the conviction that the times have changed and the time for mercy is now.

That kind of spirituality won’t rob the church of energy for engagement with the needs of the world.  It will ground that energy.