Wandering the savage garden…

January 2016Monthly Archives

Don’t Observe: Participate.

I struggle with passivity.

I’m a classic INTJ, in terms of Myers-Briggs typology, which usually means that I watch and plan until I’m needed. As an example, I might notice the dishes need washing, but there are four other people in my home, all of whom are capable of doing the dishes; I’ll watch the dishes go undone until I decide that nobody else will do them. Then they’ll get washed. (I have to confess: I don’t like washing dishes, but I absolutely despise drying them, and have to force myself to dry them.)

Even though this is a fairly core aspect of my personality, I find that I don’t like it at all. I heard from my church’s women’s minister that she doesn’t like “New Year’s Resolutions,” she prefers an adjustment of priorities – which makes a lot of sense to me – and if I had one this year, it would be a priority on action rather than on observation.

That means that if the dishes are dirty, do them. No pile-up of dishes, ever. If I’m there, they’re done, no matter who else might do them; if someone else won’t pick up the mantle, I will.

On Facebook this morning, I saw a friend post a link to this, with the comment that the moron on Christ’s side didn’t know his theology well enough to defend it:

It’s funny, but it got me thinking.

For one thing, the Christian in the image apparently did not know his theology well enough to understand the actual machinery of God – which is indeed something of which we are all a part.

For another, I’m not sure my friend knew the theology himself – he pointed out that “God helps those who help themselves,” which isn’t actually a biblical statement at all. He went hunting through Paul and the Beatitudes looking for some equivalent.

For a third thing, it got me wondering about the nature of passivity. The most offensive thing – if offense is the right term to use – about the exchange was that my friend was fairly passive about the link in the first place. “Ha, ha,” he said, indicating the humor… and that was it.

I found myself infuriated. Not at the ignorance; that’s just this thing, you know? It’s a state of being. It happens.

What infuriated me was the passivity on everyone’s part. An assertion is being made, someone knows it’s ridiculous, but lets it lie.

Nope.

What I would have liked to have seen is for someone to listen to the voice of God in their head, saying “This isn’t correct,” and then that someone acts on it… by trying to gently correct the ignorance in God’s Name.

I know that I struggle with the “gently” aspect there; I’m far more likely to go in with a bat, breaking things in the name of accuracy, which isn’t really any better than letting ignorance lie for most cases, so I have to be really careful not to cause harm in the interest of trying to advance God’s cause.

(“No, you idiot!” is not a good leading statement.)

But at the same time, I have to find ways to share learning and knowledge in such a way that everyone grows and no-one is harmed… because being passive is harmful. Observation is the beginning of action, but observation without following through is wrong.

Shalom.

Credit

I don’t know how to handle my own struggle with selfishness. In fact, I struggle to the point where I wonder if it’s even selfishness at all – but more a recognition of my own needs.

I used to play in church bands, usually as a backup (because playing in the band is a job, and I wanted to go to church with my family, instead.) I stopped for a few reasons, but one of the strongest reasons was that I, as a band member – even a backup – was not getting fed at church. I was serving, but not being served.

And there’s the illustration in a nutshell, really: “What about me?” I was not being served – and that sounds incredibly selfish.

But is it? If I were somehow to feed the world, but starve myself, what have I done? Eventually I’ll starve to the degree that I’m no longer feeding the world, and everyone starves with me.

To be sure, I wasn’t wanting to be “fed” at church by adulation; I definitely didn’t want members to point me out and say “what a star!” or whatever. What I wanted was to be part of the church, just a guy who played guitar or drums. I wanted – and needed, really – some effort to be put into normalizing my relationship, and I never really felt anything but the isolation that comes with being part of the band.

I’m sure that part of it is my own fault; I don’t think anyone set out to isolate the band. Some band members were definitely “included” in the way that I would have liked to have been – and they put forth a lot of effort to be included, in general. (Some were naturally engaged; I am most certainly not built like that.)

But while I think some of it is my own fault, I don’t think I can legitimately claim all of the fault. If it had happened at one church, or two, I think I could point my finger at myself and testify of my own poor methods or motives.

However, it’s happened at every church I’ve been part of. I have never seen a band that wasn’t socially isolated from the body of the church. I have always felt “apart,” separated, alone… in the Body of Christ, while trying to serve it. And like I said, I’ve seen very few band members who escaped that isolation.

It goes farther than being in a band, though. In my personal life, I have to regularly confront that voice in my head that needs. I work hard, too – where is my credit for working hard?

The truth is, I’m exhausted – and I’m still going. I keep thinking that my exhaustion would be assuaged if someone would at least acknowledge the effort I expend every day, even if they don’t try to take up some of the burden themselves. When does that desire on my part go from a need to a sin?

I don’t know. I wish I did. My answer right now is to slam the door on that voice in my soul; I tell myself that it should be silenced, and I should live solely to serve, and when my cup is empty, I will have done enough.