There will probably be a general impression that the man who landed (armed to the teeth and talking by signs) to plan the British flag on that barbaric temple which turned out to be the Pavilion at Brighton, felt rather a fool. I am not here to deny that he looked a fool. But his mistake was really a most enviable mistake, and he knew it... What could be more delightful than to have in the same few minutes all the fascinating terrors of going abroad combined with the humane security of coming home again? What could be more glorious than to brace one's self to discover New South Wales and then realize, with a gush of happy tears, that it was really old South Wales.
Chesterton uses this analogy to describe his own spiritual journey. Raised in Christianity in the late 1800's, he went through severe depression and skepticism at the age of 19, and left behind his faith. Then, through his adult life, he studied philosophy and religion, trying to piece together from different belief systems something true that would satisfy his doubts. He discovered, however, that the philosophy and religion he had developed, when put together, was actually orthodox Christianity. In his own words:
I freely confess all the idiotic ambitions of the end of the nineteenth century. I did, like all other solemn little boys, try to be in advance of the age. Like them I tried to be some ten minutes in advance of the truth. And I found that I was eighteen hundred years behind it... When I fancied that I stood alone I was really in the ridiculous position of being backed by all Christendom. It may be, Heaven forgive me, that I did try to be original; but I only succeeded in inventing all by myself an inferior copy of the existing traditions of civilized religion. The man from the yacht thought he was the first to find England; I thought I was the first to find Europe. I did try to found a heresy of my own; and when I had put the finishing touches to it, I discovered that it was orthodoxy.
When I first read this segment 18 months ago, I didn't think of it as anything more than a interesting analogy. When I remembered it again a couple days ago, it struck me how completely I identify with it today. Now I think it may be the best way to explain the last year of my life, both spiritually and physically. For a year ago I was desperate for something new, willing to leave everything familiar and comfortable and good. The “Old World” that I had been raised in was beginning to show cracks in the once-solid foundations, and I didn't know how to deal with that. What do you do when everything you've believed (or thought you believed...) suddenly (or really slowly and subtly, but you notice suddenly) doesn't make sense. When 1 + 1 adds up to something less than 2. When the world view you thought was solid and trustworthy and true is revealed to be shaky and weak and lacking.
Well, I ran off to California to find out who God really is, what he really said, what I can really believe. I guess you could say that my miscalculation that sent me in the wrong direction is that I assumed people who had learned the right things about God could teach me the right things to believe, and all would be better. I put all my faith in people, and, shockingly, they didn't save me. I returned to the very place I left, feeling foolish in many ways for “missing God's voice” or “not finishing what I started” or a number of other guilt-soaked burdens. And I was still hurting, still broken, still questioning.
I was cynical about churches only being concerned with bigger programs and brighter lights. I was frustrated with an approach to prayer than can quickly become a method of screaming at God what He needs to do so He can make my life easier. I was crushed by authority figures who abused the trust of those “under” them in order to manhandle the fulfillment of their own dreams at the expense of everyone else's. I was disillusioned with worship that seemed like a psychological hype-fest to escape the real world with the tinglies of God, the wonderdrug, or just a rock show because Jesus is so cool. I was disturbed by a political agenda that looked a lot like trying to impose the will of a few on the many, cause it was the “right” way to live. Yes, those are rather harsh statements, but if I'm honest that was how I felt at the time, and this was the world I was leaving behind. I was going to discover a new continent of Christianity, where people followed God in the real “right” way.
Imagine my surprise when, like the explorer in the story and like Chesterton himself, I find myself back where I started (and I don't just mean in Colorado Springs). Through the last couple months, and only after returning to the “Old World” in deeper brokenness and humility than ever before, God is putting me back together. And these new things look awfully like the old. It's not that I believe something new, or that I've discovered a new way to heaven, or have found the “right” way to live. I believed in Jesus a year ago, and I still do now. It's just that my eyes have been opened to see His words and His life and His death and His life in new ways. The problem was never God, the problem was me and all the extra things that had quietly been added to the pure Gospel.
I also realized that those twisted additions were not done by evil people who wanted to hurt others. It's just that all of us people are good at messing up the good things God is up to, and out of the best intentions things went a little off. It's not that these people or churches or ideas were wrong and evil, it's just that the dreams God has given them are different from the dreams God has given me. I don't have to be “right” anymore. They don't have to be “wrong” for me to feel ok about myself. Now, I can see their value and purpose and realize that they are just being faithful to what God has asked them to do, and I can be free to support them and champion them without the responsibility to change them, cause that was never my responsibility anyway. (RANT: cause how do I know if they are right or wrong- I don't know what God desires for them. They aren't supposed to be obedient to me. If they are wrong, that is up to the Holy Spirit to speak into their lives and bring conviction and repentance and fresh hope and re-dream with them. I think He is better at that than me anyway.) It's my responsibility to love them. And maybe if I love them, I'll have the opportunity to share my stories and dreams, and we can actually love one another and be one in God like Jesus prayed.
So, to sum it up, I've sort of rediscovered my faith. That may not be the best wording, since I didn't really lose it, but... I still believe in the local church as the hands and feet of God, serving the forgotten and broken and oppressed, even if we still have a tendency to want to serve ourselves. I still believe that every prayer matters, even if sometimes those prayers are best expressed in questions and short sentences and listening. I still believe in leadership as an opportunity to serve effectively and empower people to become who God wants them to be, even in a consumer culture where we exalt leaders who give use what we need in place of God. I still believe in worship as the best response simple children can give to the Father who has given them far more than they could ever hope to understand, even if our best response falls far to short.(I'm still pretty cynical about politics, but truthfully I always have been... I guess I'm not perfect yet! Um, yeah...)
I feel like God is restoring me, giving me new vision, new hope, new dreams, and they are all fresh perspectives of the old ones. Which is really a beautiful thing. And as I think about all this and begin to ask what it all means, I have found that I am more excited about being a follower of Jesus than ever before.
