CURIOUS HOPE
Some great minds have described the intellectual world of addiction as a disaster area. And so, by no means is this an attempt to offer a new intellectual paradigm to consider, I merely want to give context to the statements I make around spiritual orphanhood, sonship, and the observations I’ve made regards what we think about ourselves, and how crucial it is to discern what, or who, it is informing our thoughts. In the field that I work, it affords me the privilege and pain of hearing the stories of men and woman as they have experienced them. When asked by friends or family how things are going, and am I enjoying the work that I do, it seems out of place to say that I do, but I do. Of course, I don’t take pleasure in the suffering that others experience, but as we bear each other’s burdens, so too we share in and celebrate the victories that take place in each other’s lives on a daily basis.
“Brothers and sisters, if someone is caught in a sin, you who live by the Spirit should restore that person gently. But watch yourselves, or you also may be tempted. Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way, you will fulfill the law of Christ.” - Galatians 6:1-2
The people that I get to spend my time with are searching. And when I ask what it is they are searching for, almost always the first answer that they produce is, themselves. They are looking for the person they are starting to believe they could be. As the conversation continues, at times for months long, and the troubled waters start to settle down, I’ll ask the same question. And now, with the discovery of self that has somewhat floated to the surface, it brings with it the desire to know one’s purpose. As the conversations forge forward that circle around finding meaning, purpose, and identity, there is time spent evaluating what is being focused on in the search for purpose because what we behold, gives great clues to why certain things look the way that they do. Jesus is knocking on the doors of men and woman with the hopes that they would answer and let Him in. At times they do, allowing Him to take front-and-center upon whom they now set their sights. This gaze draws them up and into the heart of the Father. And as the Spirit assures them of their divine place of belonging, in time, a person that was once so enshrouded by darkness now moves into the light. It is no longer a spiritual orphan using the tools of recovery, but a loved son or daughter abiding in Jesus. And that tends to bear good, long-lasting fruit with sobriety, or a life- well-lived, being a symptom of an abiding life.
With the opioid crisis ravaging lives and taking them at a staggering rate, which seems only to climb from year to year, being this close to it has demanded from me an evaluation of my abiding life, and what it is that I behold. I think of how a body of water in front of a stunning mountain scape, to some extent, beholds it. As I observe the reflection of the backdrop of the pond on the water that holds it, I fondly remember that the best reflections that I have ever seen have been on still waters. What am I beholding, and am I like still waters, seemed an appropriate question in my evaluation. Serving in an environment that has no room for shortcuts or quick fixes has also called me to pause for a consideration of my own pace, and to examine to what degree I allow others to know me as I endeavor to get to know them. In this, as we do the work to get to know ourselves much better, it is incredible that God so desires to reveal Himself as our Father, through Jesus, and in that exposing our true, God-given identities. Not as quickly as I would like to admit, I have finally learnt that I am found in Him. I am now much less interested in asking who am I, and instead find it a far more fruitful benefaction to search out Who He says He is.
It seems to me that our identities inform the way we approach the plans and purposes of our lives, and not the other way around. So, the question is, what, or who, is informing our identities? Contingent on the clarity that one has on their identity is the pace they walk with through the course of their days. But if identity is threatened, things get uncomfortable, and the orphan spirit offers a counterfeit expression of comfort and attempts to lure a person into a false sense of being and belonging. By observation, it seems to me that what is being searched for is not at all exclusive to the citizens of the dark underworld of excessive drug and alcohol use; it is us all who have been, or are, in search of the same thing; true identity that is found in our divine place of belonging. When both are challenged and we do not know yet where to run, because of the horror stories that we have endured, counterfeit expressions of comfort are our go-to, because it seems inconceivable to be called a loved son or daughter with such a lofty thing as that of a divine place of belonging. It seems even when we have found our way, and the sun of sonship has risen on our dark night, it is at times not that obvious to us that we can run into the arms of the Father when crisis impinges on us.
When we are in despair, we are tempted to go back to our tombs, our old orphan ways, the place of the dead, in search of the way out into life, like Mary of Magdalene did looking for Jesus.
“While they were wondering about this, suddenly two men in clothes that gleamed like lightning stood beside them. In their fright the women bowed down with their faces to the ground, but the men said to them, ‘Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here; he has risen! Remember how he told you, while he was still with you in Galilee: The Son of Man must be delivered over to the hands of sinners, be crucified and on the third day be raised again.’ Then they remembered his words.” - Luke 24:4- 8
Christ’s victory was final, and we have been invited to step into, and live from, His victory. But what appears to be a very necessary practice in the life of a believer is the endeavor of learning to win quicker by reminding ourselves, and each other, of His victory. Whether the writers who penned the Gospels, and particularly this account of when Mary “went looking for the living among the dead” intended for us to consider it this way, I find it a brilliant example of what we do when our identities are being challenged. We look for the living among the dead, not remembering His words about being raised from the dead and forget that we too have walked out of the tomb when we identify with the life of Christ. We forget Paul’s instruction to identify only with the life of Christ, not with our old ways. And if we are identifying with the life of Christ, we are identifying with the truth that we are loved sons and daughters of whom the Father is well-pleased.
“But now that faith has come, we are no longer under a guardian, for in Christ Jesus you are all sons of God, through faith. For as many of you as were baptized into Christ have put on Christ.” - Galatians 3:25-27
It is absolutely critical that we find ourselves at the foot of the cross, gazing into the blinding light of the crucifixion, and allowing it to wash over us with the love of the Father we so desperately need. But we must also move on from the cross. It is right, when necessary, to “walk” the orphan spirit back to the cross and remember that Jesus drank from this cup to reconcile us back to the Father. But then, with Christ, we must walk away from the cross! And in the same way that Jesus was anointed and then wrapped in linen, would we allow Him to anoint us with the spirit of adoption, and wrap us with His love, giving us the ability to walk out of the tomb leaving behind the orphan hanging on the cross. Should you examine the Psalms, you recognize that collectively, the authors have masterfully crafted a songbook for the soul as it swings between coming back to the cross and walking out of the tomb.
Divided into five books, each with a very clear posture of heart, when held up altogether, they stunningly, and unashamedly, reveal not only God’s immaculate character, but a very real depiction of the rollercoaster ride our minds are often on. On occasion, I have thought out loud, wondering if the collective expression of our life experiences is not better understood when examined the same way? Curiously, the question has offered hope. The final Psalms of the fifth book ends with five consecutive “hallelujahs” that invite us to join in the beautiful crescendo of worship across all creation. But I implore you to notice the stark contrast to that of the opening psalms which, although they contain periodic moments of hope, are mostly written from a place of lamentation, distress, and even doubt in God’s justice. It seems because the scales tip so drastically from one side to the other, much like life, there is something in it that a person in peril wants to grab a hold of. Found here is a glimmer of hope, that perchance, like the Psalms, our endeavors have the potential to come together to reveal God’s immaculate character, ultimately hailing from our lives the hallelujahs He intended to hear from us from the beginning.
It is astounding how far a glimmer of this curious hope can carry a man.
