a dividing spirit of truth

"The expression 'spirit of truth' introduces a note of edginess to the promise of the spirit, for with it an alien world intrudes into the private discourse between a teacher and his friends: 'the spirit of truth, whom the world cannot receive, because it neither sees it nor knows it.' (John 14:17)."

(from John R. Levison, Filled with the Spirit, Eerdmans, 2010).

Truth has always been a rare commodity among humanity. As part of the Fall we are constantly battling what is true and what is false, what edifies and what destroys, what reveals and what deceives. When Jesus tells his disciples that a 'spirit of truth' is to come upon them, he emphasizes the arrival of restoration from such a fallen state. Thus, he informs the world that there is something coming which will be unfamiliar and odd - pure truth in the midst of a world of muddied deception.

The world cannot receive this spirit of truth, he says to us. But it is coming nonetheless to those who follow after him. This can only lead to a significant break between those who are sprited-people and those who align their hearts to the stuff of earth. Of course, we will not see that the coming of this spirit of truth leads to a geographic distinction between these two people. They will walk among each other and interact in this life.

And so, Jesus tells us also that his followers - who are these spirit-of-truth-people - will be in this world, even though they will not be of this world. Their stuff will not be the stuff of earth, but will reflect their status as individuals within whom the stuff of heaven now resides. Walking among the un-spirited-people, those who have received the spirit of truth will be distinguishable by a higher and nobler quality within - a character filled with the spirit of truth.

This causes all sorts of trouble for those who are spirit-of-truth receivers, for they now face the frustration (at the least) and blatant opposition (at the worst) of conducting themselves as people of the spirit in a world which neither recognizes it at work, nor understands it in concept. Therein lies the state of our world, divided between the spirit of truth (the Spirit of God) and those who have never been released from the plane of earth. To anticipate the coming of the spirit of truth is always portrayed in Christian circles as such a happy moment, seldom counting the cost of what division will be placed between the receiver and the ignorer.

Understanding this moves us closer to living the faith to which we have been summoned by the very spirit of truth that is at work in all of this.

unspoken conversation

I asked of him, "Why, if you need me to walk the way of conflict, do you not callous my heart to the task?"

He gently replied, "So that you would not grow fond of the work, but know how much it hurts my heart as well."

life at a funeral

"Why is it that we rejoice at a birth and grieve at a funeral? It is because we are not the person involved." (Mark Twain)

I begin with a somewhat anecdotal observation, which got me to thinking about the bigger picture . . .

In the last three weeks I have been asked to preside over the funerals of two people I have never met, whose families were unknown to me. In both cases I arrived at the service itself having never met anyone involved before that moment, now asked to lead them in a proper remembrance and committal. Since this has never happened to me before, and I haven't seen this dilemma cross the pages of Christianity Today, perhaps it is just a simple pattern of three weeks. But since I am consistently reminded to find ministry opportunities in every avenue I pass, I had to pause and look deeper.

If we are to accept the trends of increase detachment from church life, and I do, then this is more than a random stumbling of coincidence. The numbers given to us suggest not simply a decline in church attendance in the past however-many-years, but demonstrate an increase cultural break between the church and those who do not attend. For the first time in the history of American culture we are seeing second and third generation non-churchgoers as a significant segment of our population.

Even though this ecclesiastical detachment exists, people are still searching for the deeper meaning of life. Which means that, when faced with the sudden and certain reality of death, they are going to be looking for a meaning to it all. And while this may be all-too-late for the person who has died, those gathered still have the opportunity to find that sacred significance.

I think that more and more families are going to be looking to the church in order to obtain a 'facilitator' for the funeral service. So, those who are ministers of the gospel are now going to be faced with a choice. (It will not be a choice of presiding over the service, that is simple logistics for the majority in the ministry.) The decision will be whether we interpret the funeral service as an opportunity to speak the word of God into the lives of those who grieve, or see our role simply as a religious extension of the funeral director, who quietly takes his leave (and pay) after services rendered.

I'm not interested in referring to this as 'funeral evangelism' or anything ridiculous like that, because it needs neither to be programmed nor a soul-crusade. But it is an opportunity for those who work as ministers to meet people with the biblical message of hope, peace and comfort at their most vulnerable point in life. (I believe that death - or the prospect of death -is the most vulnerable point, births are second.) The key will be to present the full gospel message without taking away from the funeral, or letting the grieving process shy us away from bringing people into the full encounter of divine love.

till we have faces

There are many readers and admirers of the writings of C. S. Lewis. Interestingly, one of the most overlooked of his writings (by contemporary evangelicals, at least) is rightly noted as his best work of fiction. I admit that I had not read Till We Have Faces before, and that I always had a piece of ongoing regret for not taking the time to enter into its narrative.

Although I am not a reader of fiction, and do not consider myself experienced or qualified enough to offer literary critiques of such work, I knew that I would enjoy this particular work because of Lewis' ability to speak deeply through prose.

The story is a myth retold (one I was previously unfamiliar with), of Cupid and Psyche. Thus the story is set in the pre-Christian world, in the kingdom of Glome. It is told from the first-person perspective of Orual, the unattractive older half-sister of the quite beautiful Psyche. There is a battle between logic an mythological belief that happens with Orual, as the gods require that Psyche be given over to them. Struggling to believe in these gods and the reasoning that comes from her teacher, Orual sets out to find Psyche (at least, for proper burial) only to discover that she is living in the valley of the gods.

Psyche claims to live in a marvelous palace, where her lover comes to her in the dark - for she has been forbidden to see his face. The tension is heightened when Orual does not see this palace, nor does she accept that the gods have been caring for her (perhaps Psyche is being drugged or tricked by bandits living in the mountains). The struggle thus begins on what has happened to Psyche, and what Orual must do to save her.

It has been said that Lewis himself was somewhat haunted by the story of Cupid and Psyche for most of his life, never being able to let it out of his mind. In his initial concept of rewriting it, before he was a Christian, he had it in mind to place Orual in the right and the gods in the wrong. But that has changed.

I confess that I often need assistance to get to the deeper levels of narrative and story, and Lewis' writing is good enough to be no exception. I am grateful that Lewis himself has reflected on this story, "An author doesn't necessarily understand the meaning of his own story better than anyone else, so I give my account of Till We Have Faces simply for what it is worth."

Although the story is set within the pagan world of the gods, there are parallels to Christian conversion. Psyche becomes an instance of someone making the best of their pagan religion but always and constantly on the path to finding the one true God. Orual then becomes the possessive controller who cannot stand to see Psyche in such a deep and compelling love.

Thus, according to Lewis:

"Of course I had always in mind its closer parallel to what is probably happening at this moment in at least five families in your home town. Someone becomes a Christian, or in a family nominally Christian already, does something like becoming a missionary or entering into a religious order. The others suffer a sense of outrage. What they love is being taken from them. The boy must be mad. And the conceit of him! Or: is there something in it after all? let's hope it is only a phase! If only he had listened to his natural advisers. Oh come back, come back, be sensible, be the dear son we used to know! Now I, as a Christian, have a good deal of sympathy with those jealous, suffering, puzzled people (for they do suffer, and out of their suffering much of the bitterness against religion arises). I believe the thing is common. There is very nearly a touch of it in Luke II.38, 'Son, why hast thou so dealt with us?' And is the reply easy for a loving heart to hear?"