Advent for those deconstructing their faith – Day 15
Hope. That’s what this season is supposed to be all about, right? I struggle to feel it. I always thought that the hope was about life after death. That’s what my faith had taught me – you need to ask Jesus into your heart so that you can go to heaven when you die. Of course, my faith grew stronger and more complex, but – at it’s heart – that’s what it was. I was going to heaven and others weren’t. I had made the “right” choice by choosing Christ and others were ignoring His sacrifice and they would pay the price. That doesn’t really sound like good news to me…
I always thought that the hope was that Jesus would rescue me. That’s what my faith had taught me – God loved me so much that He gave His only son, who died on the cross for my sins, so that I could be reconciled to God, and now I won’t ever have to pay the price for my bad deeds. Except, I still do, I always have. No matter my faith, I often experienced consequences – and mainly from the church and fellow believers – for when I didn’t fall in line with the christian ideals. I saw others experience this, too, when they fell from grace. If Jesus forgives, but his earthly followers don’t, what hope is there?
I always thought that the hope was that there was a purpose for everything. That’s what my faith had taught me – for in everything, God is working all things together for the good of those who love him and are called according to his purpose. But it gets confusing when you believe that Jesus is the author of all things, too, so then is he just making up little games for himself – ruining people’s lives just so he can figure out a way to put them back together again? We all want there to be meaning to the chaos and grief of being human, but why is it so necessary that there be a purpose for everything? Because accepting that life just sucks sometimes and we have no control over any of it, is really freaking hard. Also, because we are the center of our own stories and we cannot accept a plot twist that doesn’t ultimately center around us and our need for comfort and understanding. But if your theology has your savior as both the perpetrator (or allower) and the rescuer for the most awful events you experience in life, I have to wonder what kind of God I’m following…
Now, I wonder, what hope was I really looking for?
I was hoping to be loved, deeply, beyond all explanation.
I was hoping to be accepted and valued for exactly who I was.
I was hoping someone would acknowledge me as special and important.
I was hoping someone would say “I choose you.”
I was hoping someone would give me a sense of control and confidence when my life felt out of my hands.
And, as an impressionable child, I heard Jesus saying all the right lines.
But what does it mean that 30+ years later, I am still longing for hopes unfulfilled?
I think about the story of James and John, when their mother comes to Jesus to talk to him. “What do you want?” Jesus asks. Their mother says, “Please declare that in your kingdom, my sons can sit at your side…” Essentially, she was asking that Jesus name her two sons as his most important, highest esteemed disciples, and give them the highest positions available. She also wanted to control the outcome, knowing her sons were 2 of 12 men, any which could one-up her boys any day… In a roundabout answer, Jesus tells her no – he cannot fulfill her request. This story is immediately followed up by Jesus meeting two blind men on the road. They are calling out to him and he stops. “What do you want?” Jesus asks. They respond, “Lord, let our eyes be opened.” And then scripture says that Jesus was moved to compassion for them, touched their eyes, and at once they received their sight. (Matthew 20:20-34). Jesus said yes.
Two requests – one for power and prestige, the other for clarity and vision; One request for recognition and esteem, the other for mercy and the same experience as everyone else (sight); One request for control and certainty, the other for freedom and healing; One request with an eye towards a privileged and ego-boosting position, the other with an eye towards equality and needs of the deepest kind.
I wanted Jesus to make me into something, someone, that he couldn’t. I was looking outside of myself for the love, recognition, esteem, and power of another to make me whole. I wanted someone else, Jesus, to validate me and, by HIS virtue, not mine, make me into an important, special person. In a very base, prideful, and foundational way, I wanted to ride Jesus’s coattails all the way to the top.
But, that’s not what he is for. Jesus’s purpose on earth was not to elevate us, to favor us, to esteem us, to make us into anything important or valuable or worthy or powerful. His purpose was to open our eyes; to help us see things in a new way, to go beyond the ego and meet us at a deeper level.
Was my hope like the mother of James and John – that Jesus would promise me a position of power? Yes. (I’m going to heaven!!) Was my hope that he would make me feel worthy and honored and important? Yes! (He died for me!) Was my hope that Jesus would control and make sense of my world? Yes! (He’ll make everything work out in my favor!)
Did knowing Jesus for 30+ years grant me my wishes? No.
Those hopes were empty and misplaced.
Part of me doesn’t want to have (or need) any hope at all. And, that’s an interesting place to be. Because when you let go of the idea that you need to be rescued from something, hope suddenly becomes less of an issue.
Letting go seems to be the theme in all of this.
Letting go of beliefs.
Letting go of expectations.
Letting go of hope.
Letting go of God.
If I keep this up, pretty soon I’m going to be empty.
Words to contemplate:
Sometimes I feel…
like giving up.
It’s just too much work, this being me —
too much pain, this be-me-ing
too much dark, this me-ing-be,
and then You remind me that
my nothing
is Your all,
and Your all
my truest, deepest call.
Meister Eckhart, “Book of the Heart: Meditations for the Restless Soul” (as collected and translated by Jon M. Sweeney & Mark S. Burrows)
The 2020 Advent Series
