Interiority
Well, folks, a New Year is upon us. How might those
resolutions be coming?
Each New Year, like each new day, or the beginning of each
new week, provides us the opportunity to reflect, to give thanks, and to resolve
for a happier, healthier future. Every January we get up, we dust ourselves
off, we assess the damage, and we start all over again. It’s a rebirth, a fresh
start—a little resurrection. And we all need a little resurrection, now don’t
we?
A gentleman with whom I am acquainted recently told me that
most of us sabotage our New Year’s resolutions by making them terrible to begin
with. Take, for example, some typical resolutions: I want to exercise more,
save more money, read more often, be more patient. Those are all excellent
sentiments, but they’re terrible resolutions—terrible because they aren’t real
goals. There’s no plan involved in sentiment. There’s no way to assess our
progress or hold ourselves accountable on a daily basis. We need to include
specific, attainable, and quantifiable goals within our resolutions: I’ll do
cardio 20 minutes a day, for example, or I’ll be sure to read a chapter of the
Bible each night before bed.
I find this gentleman’s advice worth repeating simply
because he obviously knows what he’s talking about. To wit, he’s a thirty-something
father of seven, college professor, linguist, published author, outdoorsman,
blogger, podcaster, Eagle Scout and all-around overachiever. He’s the type of
person who simultaneously inspires and sickens me, simply because he has so much energy and I, quite frankly,
have none. He devotes significant periods of time each day to exercise, prayer,
and reading. I can barely find time to do the dishes and take out the trash. So
when he talks about knowing how to accomplish goals, I give credence to his
words.
But here’s the thing. Some of his energy is just natural
disposition, I’ll give you that. But much of it comes from a secret discovered
by the great monks and mystics of the past. Those among us who possess this
seemingly depthless well of energy, of motivation, of passion—they have tapped
the power of radical interiority. What
exactly is radical interiority? Well, that will take some unpacking.
You, brothers and sisters, are probably overscheduled. I
feel safe making this assumption for several reasons. First off, we are, by and
large, middle class Americans, who are bred to be overscheduled. Second, we
live in and around New York Mills, which is easily in the running for the world’s
busiest small town. And third, we are churchgoers in New York Mills. In a town
known for its communal activities, its hospitality, its volunteerism, its
charitable work, you are the folks who go that extra mile, who bear that added
burden for your neighbor. You are volunteer firefighters and quilters and
teachers and youth leaders and Scoutmasters and Lions and Masons and Rotarians and
active, involved parents. You are insanely busy for all the right reasons. You
are overscheduled because you care and because you give of yourself for others.
I’ve lived here long enough to make that assertion.
Oftentimes the Church as an institution—and here
particularly I include St. Peter’s and the ELCA—gets so excited at your
willingness to go the extra mile that we try to get everyone involved in
everything. There are good intentions behind this. We want this community to
truly be your community, our
community together, in which everyone has a voice and a contribution and a
stake in the Body and mission of Jesus Christ in this world. We don’t want
Church to be something that other people do, that professionals “handle”, to
the extent that we all just become an audience of spectators. And so as soon as
you walk in the door we schedule servant groups and youth groups and Men’s and
Women’s groups and Confirmation and every other good thing we can think of.
We mean well. And the results are obvious! In the last
several years, the ministries and outreach of St. Peter’s truly have exploded.
It’s been fantastic and wonderful. I’m amazed at what all Christ has done
through this congregation gathered here. But sometimes, I know, we’re so happy
to see you that we swamp you. We
overburden you. We add to your checklist. We add to your resolutions. We add to
your exhaustion. And no matter how well intentioned our efforts may be, sooner
or later people reach maximum capacity—and we burn out. This doesn’t just
happen in Church, of course. But we can become a prime example. I’m sorry about
that. Pastors are often guiltiest of this sort of thing. That’s why so many
preachers burn out after the first couple of years.
Rather, here’s what Church should be inculcating in us: radical interiority, the sort of
mystical encounter with the risen Christ that transforms and resurrects who we
are. We come here because this place—gathered around this table, around Word
and Sacrament, around strangers and neighbors and loved ones united in the
ancient liturgy of our faith—this is where Jesus promises to meet us. He renews
in us His Spirit. He feeds us with His Blood and Body. He forgives us our sins and
pours out His grace and reminds us of the astonishing promises given unto us
that He will never, ever break. He restores our souls. And when we have read and sung and eaten and been gathered
into one in Him, then we are sent back out into the world, empowered, renewed,
resurrected, that we might continue Christ’s mission in the world, liberated
from worldly fears and superfluous cares, enlivened by the One Who is the Way,
the Truth, and the Life.
It’s not magical. And it’s not instantaneous. Even with
Christ, relationships take commitment. Radical interiority means focusing on
the Christ within you, the Christ around you, the Christ in your neighbor and
in your world. It means taking time to pray, that we might talk to God, and
taking time to read Scripture, that God might talk to us. I speak here of
goals, not sentiment. It does involve spiritual discipline, not only in
gathering with the community on Sunday but in bringing that community home—to prayers
at mealtime and fostering devotions with our husbands or wives and teaching our
children the faith. It means that Church becomes real, that Christ becomes for you, not simply because we’re
involved with this, that, or the other thing, but because we are willing to
foster a true relationship with the true and living Jesus.
This isn’t a checklist. This isn’t “one more thing to do” on
top of all the other good works. Rather this is the well of our faith, the well
of our strength. It can involve meditative prayers with beads, or a time at
night for spiritual readings, or even just 15 minutes each day spent kneeling
and spilling out our hearts to God. It can be as simple as sitting in silence,
or taking the time to notice the true color of our children’s eyes. It is a
life of Jesus first, Jesus second, Jesus last of all: Jesus as the Alpha and
Omega, the Beginning and the End. This is how we learn to stop focusing on all
the “things” outside of us and look instead to the Life of Christ and His Holy
Spirit within us. In Him do we find our peace, our strength, our center. Then
can we accomplish all things through Christ Who strengthens us.
In church-speak, radical interiority teaches us the
difference between the theological virtues of faith and hope. Faith means professing
the truths taught to us in Jesus Christ—truths about the nature of God, the
world, and humankind. But hope means realizing that these truths apply to us, to our everyday lives, to all the
events both great and small that we encounter each and every day. It is the
difference between the God out there
and the God right here. That’s why
Isaiah could point to the litany of history and say, look at all the Lord has
done for us! That’s why the author of Hebrews writes that Christ frees us from
being held in slavery by the fear of death. That’s why Joseph, in response to
visions and dreams, could immediately jump up and act upon his faith.
And ultimately that’s why my friend from earlier—the overachieving
professor—can accomplish so very much, always with a smile on his face. It’s
because they all found that root—radical means root—that taps into the Life of
Christ, and they know that it is no longer they who live but Christ Who lives
in them. I’m not saying that we should do yet more, that we should resolve to
be even busier, even more thickly scheduled. Indeed, we may need to start
saying “no” to more requests, even those requests from good and worthy causes.
The world doesn’t need even one more person showing us how to be busy. What the
world needs is an entire army of people who can show us how to live with inner
peace.
Church isn’t about being busy. Life isn’t about being busy. True Church, true life, is found in
clearing away frivolous diversions and finding Jesus where He promises to meet
us: in neighbors and sinners, in bread and wine, in water and Word. Look for
Him there and we will find that He has been waiting for us all along. After
that, the rest of life—well, the rest will start to fall into place.
Thanks be to Christ, Who walks with us in this brave New
Year. In Jesus’ Name. AMEN.
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