Last week a man named Celestine spoke at our church. He comes from Rwanda and spends half his year living in Dallas while he studies for his ministry degree. Here is a man who has been arrested and beaten for talking about his faith – just like an apostle. Here is a man who has been saved from death in a Rwandan torture-chamber because a man in Dallas woke up at three in the morning and prayed for him the precise amount of time he was being tortured.
It’s very humbling to hear a man such as that speak. For one, I cannot comprehend torture, cannot understand that my body could be used against me by another’s malice. For another, I cannot comprehend such faith, cannot understand what if feels like to suffer in the flesh for faith. I tremble at the thought of being awoken in the middle of the night by God’s voice – not because I fear God, but because I fear that I would prefer sleep to obedience. What do we, what do I, know of suffering?
C.S. Lewis in The Problem of Pain suggests that Christianity created the problem of pain in the way we understand it. It was Christ’s assurance that the world was supposed to be a loving and peaceful place that made it possible for us to challenge God as to why it isn’t. Job challenged God, sure, but because he, Job, was a righteous man, and therefore had done all within his power under the Law to earn God’s mercy. We who spurn authority in any shape cannot make such a challenge on the grounds of our own merit.
Somewhere along the line we have assented to the suggestion that if God’s world doesn’t look like him, He doesn’t exist – or at least we don’t need him. Though one sacrifice has sufficed for all for all time, we have raised the idol of our god, Reason, and sacrificed our souls and our imaginations to it.
But this has all been said before (read Dostoevsky, Lewis, Chesterton, etc.). Reason, of course, has limited resources within itself to offer the soul, and so the soul atrophies, even as the self discovers an exalted idea of itself. So when I meet with friends in a Bible study, we’ve all learned to speak about ‘sin’ and ‘struggles’ as problems belonging to the understanding alone, requiring a ‘right way of thinking,’ or a more powerful will. But lately I think we need rather more powerful prayers – or more earnest. We need to repent that we obsess about ourselves when we think about faith, and do not think of others and reach out to them in love and faith alike.
When I say such things, you cannot truly understand me if you merely ‘agree’ with me, nay, not even if you generously explain my views to another. Even I myself cannot be said to understand myself on such things unless it dramatically affects my prayer life, which is to say, the essence of my faith.