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Category: The Journey

Paradox and Christian Purity

A pivotal paradox for us to understand is that simplicity is both a grace and a discipline. It is a grace because it is given to us by God. There is no way that we can build up our willpower or contort our natural tendencies to attain it. It is a gift to be graciously given and received. At the same time, simplicity is also a discipline because it is something we are called to do. Spiritual disciplines (prayer, meditation, etc.) do not give us simplicity, but they do put us in the place where we can receive it. Perhaps we need to learn to speak in terms of “disciplined grace.” Isn’t that the profound reality which underlies the symbiotic alliance between faith and works?

A second paradox is closely aligned with the first; Christian simplicity is both easy and difficult. It is easy in the same way in which all other Christian graces are easy once they have ingrained into the habit structure of our lives. It is difficult because there are times of struggle and effort, times when we despair and feel that the complexities of this life are about to do us in. But occasionally, in the midst of the chaos we have a sense of entering into true Christian Simplicity, knowing that it is only by the grace of God.

The third paradox has to do with the balance between the inner and outer dimensions of simplicity. As I mentioned before, living in Christian simplicity would be easier to understand and to practice if we could only reduce it to a system of external rules. However, an outer expression of true simplicity must necessarily flow from the inner resources. Without an inner simplicity, all external efforts are in vain. At the same time, we delude ourselves if we think we can possess the inner reality of simplicity without it having a profound effect upon the way we live.

The fourth paradox is particularly relevant to those who seek to follow Christ in such a materialistic world. It is the affirmation of both the goodness and the limitation of material things. To deny the goodness is to be ascetic. To deny the limitation is to be materialistic. So often the biblical teaching on provision has been taken and twisted into a doctrine of gluttonous prosperity. Incarnated into our theology are covetous goals under the guise of the promises of God. Misery arises not only when people lack provision but also when they try to make their entire lives out of provisions.

Christian simplicity does not yield to simplistic answers. It is the ability to be single-hearted and at the same time sensitive to the tough, complex issues of life. It is a strange combination and quite difficult to explain, though quite easy to recognize. There is focus without dogmatism, obedience without oversimplification, depth without pride. It means being aware of many complex issues while having only one issue at the center—obedience to Christ.

Christian simplicity is not just a faddish attempt to respond to the chaotic and materialist world in which we find ourselves; it is a call given to every Christian in every age to follow Christ.

Richard Foster

 

 

Humility

“Humility is the mother of all virtues; purity, charity and obedience. It is in being humble that our love becomes real, devoted and ardent. If you are humble nothing will touch you, neither praise nor disgrace, because you know what you are. If you are blamed you will not be discouraged. If they call you a saint you will not put yourself on a pedestal.” 

Mother Teresa’s 15 Guidelines for Cultivating Humility

1. Speak as little as possible about yourself.

2. Keep busy with your own affairs and not those of others.

3. Avoid curiosity.

4. Do not interfere in the affairs of others.

5. Accept small irritations with good humor.

6. Do not dwell on the faults of others.

7. Accept censures even if unmerited.

8. Give in to the will of others.

9. Accept insults and injuries.

10. Accept contempt, being forgotten and disregarded.

11. Be courteous and delicate even when provoked by someone.

12. Do not seek to be admired and loved.

13. Do not protect yourself behind your own dignity.

14. Give in, in discussions, even when you are right.

15. Choose always the more difficult task.

 

Death – Roger Cohen

I listened this week to an inventor, a brilliant man convinced of the proximity of human immortality, which he believes to be just a couple of medical bridges away. He’s taking dozens of pills to ensure that he reaches the first of those bridges, perhaps around 2030. I confess immortality, whose attainment is a hot theme in Silicon Valley, does not interest me.
When I think of it the image that comes to my mind is of a blazing hot day with the noonday sun beating down in perpetuity. The light is blinding. There is no escape from it, no perspective, no release.
The most beautiful times of day are dawn and dusk when shadows are long, offering contrast, refuge and form. Death is the shadow that gives shape to existence, urgency to love, brilliance to life. Limitless life is tedium without resolution.
As Ecclesiastes has it, there is a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted. I find it hard to imagine what inner peace can exist without acceptance of this cycle — the bright green of the first spring leaf, the brittle brown leaves of fall skittering down an alley in a gust of wind.

 

None of which is to urge mere acquiescence to death, whether physical or political, in this season when death merchants are on the march. On the contrary, this is a time to rage, a time to heed Dylan Thomas: “Rage, rage against the dying of the light.”