Discipleship and the Individual.
That's the title of the chapter I just finished in Dietrich Bonhoeffer's classic book "The Cost of Discipleship." Bonhoeffer makes many excellent points regarding discipleship in the chapters preceding this one, yet it is this one that has gripped my heart in a strange way.
As I sit on a greyhound rolling through southern Kansas, I feel alone. I don't mind it, but there is something about traveling alone which seems to render the individual more individual. There is an independence, an alertness, that is of natural consequence to the journey. Perhaps that is why I enjoy traveling alone - flying solo, if you will. This chapter reminds me of that feeling, in some ways.
See, Bonhoeffer examines the text in Luke 14 that sats that if a man wants to follow Jesus, he must hate his father, mother, sister, brother, wife, etc. It is a strange passage to the naked eye. Pulled out of the surrounding verses, it paints Jesus in a very different light. Of course, any extended study of the passage reveals that Jesus is employing hyperbole, but that it is vital for Christ followers to have Christ as their priority, the most important relationship in their lives. I very muched like Bonhoeffer's elaboration. He talks about how this call, this grace of Christ which beckons men and women to lay down their lives and pick up their crosses, it individualizes. Christ is not calling my parents or my brother and sisters, He is calling me. And that's an important thing to distinguish. When I picture Jesus pointing at a group of people which includes me, I feel the responsiblity that I am called to slacken. When just I stand before the throne of God to be handed a task, there is much more seriousness and commitment required.
That is what the call of Christ does. It peels through the layers of protective men and women who perhaps have already answered their call, straight to the center where I stand. Christ beckons me and leaves me with the choice to follow or disobey, boldly contradicting his teachings and aligning myself with his enemies. There is no half-way line to stand on when Christ calls because he specifically calls individuals. He does not call countries or family groups or tribes or friends; he calls the individuals which form them to break the ties which have been a part of their lives, to leave everything to follow him.
Bonhoeffer also points out that the minute the call is accepted, there is no direct relationship except with Christ. All relationships hereafter are mediated by Christ - both relationships with the Father and relationships with other men and women. "We are separated from one another by an unbridgeable gulf of otherness and strangeness which resists all our attempts to overcome it by means of natural association or emotional or spiritual union. There is no way from one person to another."
It is an interesting thought to turn over in my head. The idea that Christ's call to me demands surrender of all direct relationships. Of course, the pro to this surrender is the knowledge of the promise of community and the purity of love for others that comes through Christ's mediation - whether they also have answered the call or whether they are still being sought.
Still, it is rare that surrender is easy.
1 Timothy 4
Verses that caught my eye:
Have nothing to do with godless myths and old wives' tales; rather, train yourself to be godly. For physical training is of some value, but godliness has value for all things, holding promise for both the present life and the life to come.
This is a trustworthy saying that deserves full acceptance (and for this we labor and strive), that we have put our hope in the living God, who is the Savior of all men, and especially of those who believe.
Be diligent in these matters; give yourself wholly to them, so that everyone may see your progress. Watch your life and doctrine closely. Persevere in them, because if you do, you will save both yourself and your hearers.
My mind is a little bit gone to mush, due in part to the long West Central days that I rejoice in (despite their wear on my body), and a little bit due to the long and draining swim that occupied my evening. It's rare that I get upset enough to just need to swim but that was the case tonight.
Yet these verses capture my attention. There is something about them which draws me in, beckons me to inspect them just a bit more closely than the neighboring verses.
How do these words change my life? They should, shouldn't they? The Word of God - the living and active Word that cuts like a double edged sword - should profoundly affect my life each time I inspect it. Tonight finds me wondering what godless myths and old wives' tales Paul was referring to. Simple false religion? Or something more? Superstition seems like a viable translation. But what does that mean for me? What am I not seeing? I do want to train myself to be godly. I want that more than I want physical fitness and health - I truly do - and that's a great deal. This kind of ties into the pull I feel from the last verses - orthodoxy has always been quite important to me. I want to believe - and do - what is right. But what is my motivation? To be good? But why? Why do I desire goodness? Why do I desire God? Undoubtedly we were created to desire God, but why do I desire righteousness? Simply to be righteous? It's a sort of catch-22. I want to want it for the right reasons, so does that automatically disqualify it?
I'm not sure. My mind is still grappling with that one. Here's what I do know: I want the latter part of that first verse - the reason Paul labored - to be true. I want to work always because I hope in the Living God, the God who can pick up broken pieces and put them back together, the God who is still in control, even in the midst of incredible chaos.
