Thursday, March 30, 2017

Abiding in Trust

As we read in the chapter on "Church," we are taken to the centrality of the creeds. We read: When we remember that the word 'believe' in the Nicene Creed also means 'trust,' it is right to be astonished by the affirmation in the creed: we trust in this one, holy, catholic and apostolic church. Each of us has had experiences of church that hurt and disappoint us and leave us a long way from shalom and hesed.

It is hard to wrangle with this reality. Yes, even as we have been hurt in church and beyond it, we are called to abide in this church which offers a sign of the reign of God's Kingdom. We continue to place our trust in the church because at the core of its life is a practice that offers us a glimpse of this kingdom and directs us in the ways of shalom and hesed.

All of this reminds me of the NT verb: to abide.  If we abide in Him and He in us, then we know real peace and joy. That has been the goal of my journey through Lent: to spend more time in quiet contemplation, to rely less on friends, food, or any other entity to fulfill my needs. 

Balance comes in knowing the Beloved, God, and putting that relationship first. Abiding happens when I embrace the fullness of what the church is and what it can be with trust. Sometimes it is an awkward lean; sometimes it is a full embrace; sometimes it is a straining reach. If I lose balance or trust, I become like Thomas: I doubt, I revel in anxiety, I wallow in my sense of self and all of its shortcomings.  But, if I abide in His love, my balance is restored, my vision made clear, the light which seemed to allude me suddenly appears over the hills.

We are blessed beyond measure. It is sometimes hard to feel that and sometimes hard to trust if we have been hurt by church or loved ones or when we are in the midst of suffering. I like what Barbara Brown Taylor has to say about this hurt and trust:

Not to accept suffering as a normal, inevitable part of being alive seems like a big mistake, and finding ways to cover it up seems like choosing anesthesia. There is a sense in which if I will trust that what comes to me is for me (now that’s the grandest faith statement I can make to you), if I will trust that what comes to me in my life is for me and not against me… what I find is that it breaks my idols, that it breaks my isolation, that it challenges my sense of independence, it does all kinds of things for me that I would not willingly do, that are for me, that are for my health.

Can we make this choice to abide, to trust? It is my hope that we continue to seek that which propelled us into the desert at the start of Lent: may our vision be made finer, our senses made more alive, our souls attuned to the new creation of His Kingdom.  

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