The Art of Conversing

When I was little, I started my very own club. This is an impressive accomplishment, I want you to know. Starting a club takes time, energy, and dedication- all of which I had. My club was a secret club, which means I had to work extra hard to not let others outside the club know about it.

Have you ever spent time with Jesus, and felt as though you've been the only one talking? This happens to me quite often. I plop down the Word of God, flip to a random passage, and try to find spiritual encouragement and nourishment, as if the Bible is some magical book that must be rubbed like the genie's bottle to get the desired result. I somehow think that the power is in the black words on the page, and if I stare at them long enough, I will understand them.

Spirituality is a relationship.

One of the worst lies we can believe as Christians is that we are alone. Jesus promised to send His Spirit to guide and comfort His believers, and yet we act as though the third person of the trinity simply does not exist. I've had my share of spiritual monologues, where I feel I have been the only one talking, and I'm tired of it. I'm burnt out, and I have nothing left to say.

Spirituality is a conversation.

I rarely listen to God, due to the fact that most of my conversations with Him are filled with my words only. God says in Ecclesiastes that we ought to be silent before Him; standing in awe of Him, our words ought to be few. I think if we were really in love with Jesus, we would be in awe; we would silence our hearts in the wonder of His love.

The truth is, our version of spirituality seems to be more about us than God. If it was about God, we would be silent and listen. But we usually end up more concerned with our own affairs than what God is concerned with. I've learned that spirituality is hard. It takes time and discipline. The Bible was not meant to be read as a 5 minute daily devotional to brighten our day. Spirituality isn't neat and clean cut. It is often ugly.

When we aren't the ones talking, we hear things we might not want to hear.

The club I started when I was a kid was a club I had by myself underneath the covers when I went to bed. I was the only member. I talked to myself. I distinctly remember feeling awfully alone.

We cannot do spirituality alone. It isn't a matter of reading the right verse or saying the right magical spell. Spirituality is about communing with the God of the universe. Let Him speak.

Confessions of a Cynic

(An article I wrote for my school newspaper)

It’s because we love ourselves.

I’ve thought about it a lot lately, and that’s the only reasonable answer I have come to so far concerning cynicism. Whether it be manifested through public complaints, quiet distrust expressed behind closed doors, or the soft and unspoken language of our hearts, cynicism is an outworking of self-interest. Regardless of its expression, we have a serious problem on our hands that must be dealt with sooner or later.

Covenant College is perhaps the most cynical institution I have been a part of in my life, and I fear that I only add to the problem. I feel it as I walk down my hall, as I read the latest edition of The Bagpipe, as I eat in the Great Hall, as I sit in chapel. I feel it deep in my bones because it surrounds me. It is a part of me, slowly hacking away at my joy and my life, a cancer spreading throughout my body.

When we joined this community, we entered into an ongoing conversation that is necessary and proper for an institution such as ours. Whether we realize it or not, this conversation is shaping who we are and how we see the world. In fact, we could use more real life discussion, as Ron Brown recently suggested in chapel. Issues like the War in Iraq, abortion, in vitro fertilization, and the abuse of women in Spain ought to all be addressed, either formally or informally. It’s how we learn: probing, questioning, pondering fresh insights. We have entered the most intense molding period of our lives, and are thus questioning everything we encounter. We are learning how to articulate what it is that we believe. We are learning how to think for ourselves.

And these are good things. Reformed and always reforming. Sola Scriptura. In all things, Christ…

But are we missing the big picture?

What is the purpose of having a conversation in the first place? We have a conversation because we want to see an intended outcome. We are impassioned, being caught up in issues bigger than ourselves, and we work towards a set goal to accomplish what we feel needs to be improved or changed…at least, that’s how it should be.

Something is missing at Covenant though; something important that makes all the difference between ours and a healthy community with healthy dialogue. The problem I think we are encountering is that we are more concerned with being right and proving our point than we are with the issues at hand. More importantly, we are more concerned with ourselves than we are the gospel that we claim. It seems that we are missing the ability to love people in the midst of adamant disagreement, a direct result of impure hearts. The conversation is not the problem—our attitudes and mindsets are the problem. We say we are concerned for God and His Kingdom here on earth, but the way we talk proves otherwise. We care about being right.

The truth is, I’m a narcissist, and that drives my cynicism. I’m upset about the cynicism at Covenant College, but if the problem were resolved, would I be satisfied? Of course not. I’d find something else to be upset about, and then I would write an article about it so people could hear what I have to say, because my opinions matter. Honestly, I love the fact that you’re reading my article right now—it makes me feel important. Do we eagerly desire the bringing about of God’s shalom on this earth and at Covenant College, or do we just love hearing ourselves talk?

We really believe we are the standard.

I think it’s possible to think about God and forget Him at the same time. I’ve been part of one too many discussions concerning worship theology, philosophy, and methodology, during which my heart is usually not at all actually concerned with loving or honoring God. I can’t count the number of times I’ve either said or thought, “I really think that worship was great today, except I didn’t like…” And thus my contribution to the conversation has not been an edifying suggestion or critique, but rather a cynical and destructive remark which has only served to raise others’ awareness to my preferences.

But do we ever simply enjoy Jesus? Or are we too busy critiquing the music or speaker in chapel or church that we forget about Him in the process? Are we too busy analyzing the way a friend said something that we miss the incredible amount of truth they just spoke into our lives? Are we too busy pondering our next response in a conversation that we don’t even hear what the other person said? Are we too busy calling passionate believers self-righteous and fake because we’re intimidated by them? Intimidated by the fact that they understand the gospel in a way we can’t even fathom: they deeply love Jesus.

Sometimes I’m scared of people who get it, because they make me look bad, a threat to my reputation and value. I turn cynical to hide my fear, drawing back and allowing a quiet distrust to grow in my heart.

I know what you’re thinking. And you’re right. Our friends ought to speak truth in love, in a non-arrogant manner; our fellow students ought not say and do self-righteous things. Worship should be well thought out, not just thrown together (our student leaders do a phenomenal job preparing music); the speaker ought to be well-spoken, articulating the Word of God. Indeed, all these things must be done in a Scripturally sound way that is acceptable to God. I agree.

But God wants our hearts, and they are far from Him.

I have this recurring image in my mind of Jesus standing on the stage of the chapel, speaking to us students. Except he doesn’t have a three point sermon on the theological implications of the Sermon on the Mount—He’s weeping. And through His tears He keeps repeating,

You’ve missed the big picture.
You honor me with your lips, but your hearts are far from me.
You just don’t get it.

We miss it because we don’t want to see it. We want what we want, and our wants turn us into cynics.

It’s because we love ourselves.

And the only fitting response is repentance. We have spit upon the glory of the Almighty God with our self-interests, yet we continue to respond with complacency. If we only had a vision of a life that surpasses our own, of a conversation that is bigger than ourselves, of a people so changed by the power of the gospel that they bleed humility and love. May we lock ourselves in our rooms begging Jesus for forgiveness and healing until it happens. May we weep over our pride that we may be restored, for there is hope in the cross.