Without exactly making excuses, I’m sort of pleased that I procrastinated so much today. It’s not that I didn’t have work to do. I have a crapload, to use the french translation. The issue for me is similar to many babies and children, “I don’t want to.” But, on the other hand, I also have a lot on my mind. I’m feeling fairly vulnerable lately with all the changes in community life (both positive and negative). And I’ve started to take stock, research my thoughts, feelings, and desires related to community. It’s a hard process. Heart surgery, so to speak. I’m opened up to a deep incision and am still finding that there is always further to go and more to reveal. It’s hard to live in a canyon. But anyway…
Paul Munn describes himself and fellow followers of Jesus as “strangers and exiles.” Of course, he wasn’t the first one to use that kind of language or communicate that kind of thing. Jesus said similar types of things and, quite obviously, experienced profound loneliness and a whole array of societal rejections and misunderstandings. (Or am I reading myself too much into that story?) Nevertheless, I took it upon myself to add some good ol’ Christian disillusionment to the post (as if there weren’t enough already out there!). Here’s what I said:
I used to think that the marriage metaphor Paul uses to describe Jesus’ bride might, in a way, also imply a marriage-like commitment/vow to a specific group or community (i.e., the benedictines). But I’m not so sure now. I still desire a deep experience of God’s family and to “grow old together” with its members, just as some communities aspire to do. I guess it’s kind of strange for me, though, to understand how this could be possible, either within or with-out a familiar communal life, when we have as our primary identity the destiny of “strangers and exiles.” If it’s a matter of perpetual not-knowing or fleeting moments of actual deep community, I’m ok with that…but I confess, I don’t understand why.
Paul’s reply:
Yeah, I can understand that desire. But I think the reality is that communities change a lot over the years (if they last). People come and go, even when there are “life-long” commitment expectations, and the nature and purpose of the community usually shifts quite a bit. The changes are sometimes the reason certain people end up leaving. So the ideal you talk about is not the reality (at least not the reality I’ve seen or heard about).
Marriages can change quite a bit, too, I suppose. And people sometimes leave.
I guess I’m saying that our deepest desires for community are often good (and God-given), but humanly-defined societies never can satisfy that. I think it’s really a desire to be part of the community that is God, the body of Christ, and anything short of that will ultimately leave us disillusioned.
My reply back:
“I think it’s really a desire to be part of the community that is God, the body of Christ, and anything short of that will ultimately leave us disillusioned.” That’s a good point. Especially the disillusioned part. Maybe I’m just in a dark mood today, but I keep thinking that the reality for human beings (the ones I know, at least) trying to follow Jesus isn’t much better. I believe God wants us to know Him directly, especially in those we know and receive who are part of His body. But I’m still struggling to remember what makes this message (”strangers and exiles”) good for us, His children?
Never one to let a smart response fall by the wayside, he replies:
I’m not sure what you mean by “good for us”… I think it’s the truth, so it’s good for us to know. Jesus warned his followers that they would encounter widespread rejection and persecution, not because he wanted it to happen, but it helped them to know it was coming and so not get too thrown when it did happen.
And I do think there is a big difference in how much we are disappointed when we trust people (especially in powerful groups) and how much we are disappointed when we trust God.
Now, before I read his response, I had decided to ride the bus home from work. Julissa took the car, because the car she drives had a flat. (I really enjoy public transit, fyi. It’s like a free nap; you know, the kind you don’t have to feel guilty about when others around you are awake.) So, while I studied the rain, people, and slow city views, I began rereading a chapter from Life Together by Dietrich Bonhoeffer. This beautiful passage (below) stood out to me–a corrective, if you will. Here’s a few lines from it and then my last comment to Paul:
The serious Christian, set down for the first time in a Christian community, is likely to bring with him a very definite idea of what Christian life together should be and to try to realize it. But God’s grace speedily shatters such dreams…
Bonhoeffer plants this idea to the community in his book Life Together: “Just as surely as God desires to lead us to a knowledge of genuine Christian fellowship, so surely must we be overwhelmed by a great disillusionment with others, with Christians in general, and, if we are fortunate, with ourselves.”
I like that. I think he hits the nail on the head. I also like the distinction you made about disappointment which develops from trusting people or groups and the disappointment unleashed when we trust God. The latter seems to be a certain mercy which responds to our innermost need–more than anything. Like you said in an earlier post, it is “a better prayer” for us to pray and receive.
Even though this may seem like a good place to end a rather piecemeal post like this, I’ve actually got one more link to throw in the mix. Jason Coker posted the beginnings of a chapter by chapter review of Dallas Willard’s new book, Knowing Christ Today: Why We Can Trust Spiritual Knowledge. I liked the topic. It’s related, it seems, to this feeling I’ve been struggling to identify for myself. So, I wrote a comment:
I’m new here (to the blog), but this caught my attention because I’ve been thinking through the implications of knowledge in relation to the Body of Christ. I haven’t looked at Willard’s book yet, so I’m not sure if he will touch on it. But it’s a rich topic, eh? For example, if we cannot completely identify with any human society (including Christian community) as Christ’s body, in what way can we avoid the temptations to idealize/idolatrize the social power of groups, movements, institutions, or even community? In other words, I am wondering if knowledge of Christ’s actual body is in any way possible or if we must accept the somewhat shoddy and disappointing versions personafied to us by our experiences of them. You might tell by my tone or question that this is one of those areas where I’ve had “experience with the belittling of faith as true knowledge.” Nevertheless, I view knowledge (religious or otherwise) as the substance of human faith. It’s the way we know the world. However, Jesus seems to know things about the world that I will never understand, put faith in, or believe. Peter Rollins, I guess, would want to call me an atheist. But I’m a Christian, a leader, and part of a faith community. This is not the comment I was thinking it would be. Alright, enough typing…
And Jason C. responds, offering this gentle reassurance/reminder:
Jason - Welcome. Your contribution is appreciated! I’m with you, but I suspect that we’ll have to find the real thing in the midst of the “somewhat shoddy and disappointing” version we have. : )
What can I say? It’s been a fruitful day, even in the midst of some “shoddy and disappointing” productivity percentages at my work desk. But thankfulness is key, right? I’ll finish my post here with Bonhoeffer’s final sentence from the overall passage I quoted above:
The more clearly we learn to recognize that the ground and strength and promise of all our fellowship is in Jesus Christ alone, the more serenely shall we think of our fellowship and pray and hope for it.
May it be so.

