Friday, 16 September 2016

Salt & Light - What Did Jesus Mean?

In Matthew 5, Jesus declared that his followers were like salt and light in the world. But what does that really mean? What does it look like to others? 

Wikipedia

Jesus said, "You are the salt of the earth."

Salt is an essential element in our life. If we don't have enough salt in our body, we can begin to experience muscle cramps, nausea, vomiting and dizziness. And unless some action is taken, shock, coma and death could ensue.

Conversely, too much salt in the body is equally damaging. It can lead to dehydration, organ failure and eventually death.

In culinary terms, salt is used to enhance the flavour of food. It draws out and amplifies the distinct taste of each food to which it is added. 

But adding excessive amounts of salt means that the unique flavour of that food is smothered, and the salt is all we can taste. 

Salt is necessary to our very existence, but it can also kill us. Salt enhances the taste of food, adding to the enjoyment of the flavour, but too much will mask that flavour, destroying it's distinctiveness.

As christians, are we enhancing the lives of others, or are we smothering them with our 'salt' until they lose their unique flavour?

Wikipedia

Jesus said, "You are the light of the world."

A lamp set in a window. A light left on outside your door. The pictures those words conjure up for me are welcoming, guiding, hospitable. I think of a traveller on the road, cheered by the promise of safety and respite. I think of a friend visiting my house in the dark, and being guided to my door by the light.

But light can also be used to threaten and intimidate. How many old movies have you seen where a bright light has been used as an instrument of torture and interrogation. Can you picture the scene where the villain sits in a darkened room, shining the light into the hero's eyes, intent on forcing information from them. Or what about the scene where light is used to inflict sleep deprivation so that the victim becomes so delirious they are susceptible to brainwashing and control.

Depending on its use, light can be a welcoming guide, or an instrument of power and domination.

Is our light warm and invitational - offering sanctuary and rest? Or are we using it to control the behaviour of others?

I've seen a lot of unloving behaviour justified in the name of "being salt and light to the world". As those elements can both be used in ways that inflict harm, maybe it was true. But maybe that's not quite what Jesus meant...

Tuesday, 13 September 2016

Falling Down

I have to confess that I found myself reacting the other day to some words which had triggered me, and left me hearing repeated echoes of past abuse. I reacted. I struggled. I felt like I'd lost my footing and was flailing around trying to find my balance. "Not again," I thought, attempting to regain my equilibrium.

And as I wrestled with that reality, I was dragged down by the weight of failure. After all, I'd experienced so much healing since I lived in that old head-space. What on earth was wrong with me!?

But when I stopped the self-recrimination long enough to listen to my heart, I started to see that I'd simply fallen into an old, discarded trap - the false teaching which says that after you say the magic words everything is all better, and nothing will ever trouble you again.

But real life is not like that. We fall down. We get up. There is no magic.

So yes, I'd fallen down. And yes, I could get back up. But here's the really good news. The healing I've pursued has left me better equipped to get back up again. I don't need to pretend I haven't fallen. I don't need to stay down the hole. I'm no longer imprisoned by the toxic conditioning of my past.

I haven't 'failed'. I simply fell down.


But the experience has been useful, because it's made me stop and think. And it's helped me to realise that I no longer believe healing means:
  • that we don't get hurt any more
  • that we no longer get triggered
  • that we have all the answers
  • that we have no more struggles
  • that we are now perfect
  • that we have "arrived"
But it can mean:
  • that we can more readily acknowledge the pain and process it
  • that we can identify triggers and have strategies in place to deal with them
  • that we have made peace with the mystery
  • that we have hope in the midst of the struggle
  • that we can embrace who we are - imperfections and all
  • that we are continuing our journey 
 And it seems to me that's a much happier and healthier outcome.

Friday, 9 September 2016

Playing Nicely

Imagine a couple of young children having fun on a playdate while their parents watch on, sipping their coffee. The children are playing with the new kitchen set one of then recently received as a present. They talk about making a dinner party for their toys and set to with zeal.

Somewhere along the way, they decide that what they actually should be doing is making dinner for their siblings. They agree wholeheartedly on this - it is definitely their responsibility. But soon trouble erupts. It seems that neither can agree on who gets invited to the meal, what food should be served, or even how to set the table.

Now imagine what this looks like to their parents. At first they see their children's idea to cook a meal as cute, even though they know it's not really a task they are capable of, or responsible for. "Look," they say, "the kid's are playing grown-ups! How sweet."

They might smile indulgently and swallow their laughter. After all, we don't want to hurt their feelings.

But then things start to get heated. One child calls the other a rude name, the other responds with a punch to the arm. Soon they're at each other's throats and have to be pulled off each other by the parents.

What a horrible end to such a thoughtful idea. They only wanted to serve their siblings, after all. But, I'm pretty sure no-one in their right mind would see this as a good outcome.

And yet, isn't this a picture of us? We who call ourselves the church?

Do you think that maybe God sometimes feels like those parents. Watching his kids playing at being grown-ups god. We think it's up to us what our siblings believe; which sins are unforgivable; who "gets into heaven".

We take ourselves so seriously, but maybe it's time we realised that we're all just little children playing in God's world. None of us get's to say whose theology is "right" and whose is heretical. None of us has the right to tell others they don't belong to God. None of us are "grown-up" enough for any of that.

So let's "play nice" kids.