December 17, 2009

  • Troublers

    Christianity is often extremely inconvenient.

    And what of this God who demands such honesty from us? Exacting goodness, uprightness and righteousness? What of this Being who tells us 'No,' when all the world is enticing us with 'yes'es?

    And so we trouble ourselves and we trouble the world.

    While they would have gone around, tricking, stealing, lying, fulfilling their own pleasures on their own time, at the expense of others in choir rooms and rec halls and art studios and teacher's offices...

    What is this conscience that pricks us... we didn't ask for it. They didn't want it. And yet there it is, like a bulldog. Constant. Persistent. Houndish. Slobbery.

    Christianity troubles. God troubles. Elijah was called "he that troubleth Israel." (1 Kings 18.) The disciples and apostles were also accused of causing trouble and "turning the world upside down." (Acts 17.) Luther troubled the entire Catholic church and a nation.

    I'm troubling these kids. And it's not a happy job.

    I suppose I ought to be rejoicing. And that's the irony of it all... I hate trouble. It's the strangest thing. I hate strife and chaos and disorder. I cherish peace, safety, and quiet... but I've chosen a profession and on top of that a field which makes this impossible. I've enlisted in a war I don't want to be a part of, taken the front lines in a battle that is anything but safe, and have come face-to-face with an enemy that is anything but quiet.

    Why do I always do this to myself?

    And yet sometimes, I get all inspired again to take up my arms, rise up all afresh, and shout with the great hosts of the sky, "YES! LET IT BE!!" And then before I know it, I'm not in my twenties anymore, perhaps not young enough anymore to be able to say I'm "too young to realize that some things are impossible..." (I'm not too old yet, sometimes.)

    But perhaps not. Perhaps I've only just begun. Perhaps exhaustion is a phase before exhilaration. Perhaps weariness is the darkness before joy. Perhaps the distant dawn of the fruits of my labors here will come sooner than I thought. Perhaps it is not as "all in vain" as it seems sometimes.

    It's laughable how we are all from the same fiber. Giving the same arguments, The same "I am the only one left"s. The same depression, the same exhaustion, the same fear, the same discouragement. On and on for centuries upon centuries. And as the ages roll on, God is patient.

    And yet there are those who preached, and sang, and thrilled in their hearts in whatever the situation. There are those who were so imbibed with Jesus that prison bars and song bars weren't different things... they didn't care about troubles or cares or weaknesses or c o n s e q u e n c e s....

    Am I a troubler? Sure am. Poking and prodding into places I never wanted to go. It's too late to stop now. There's no turning back. It's nice, though, to meet people along the road who help keep up these wobbly knees. It's nice to have a God who tells me He knows what He's doing even though I'm completely at a loss. Who shines the light when all seems fuzzy. Who tells me, a troubler, not to be troubled myself...