Over the past few weeks I’ve been challenged to think more deeply about spiritual growth. At the summer residency for Biola’s graduate Christian Apologetics Program, I attended an outstanding lecture by J.P. Moreland on the spiritual life, in which one of his topics was the impact of the Fall on our lives.
Dr Moreland explained that because of the Fall, we are in a state of separation (from God, from others, and from ourselves) and thus we experience a fundamental loneliness. We look for ways to overcome this loneliness, often with strategies that are sinful. Our corresponding fundamental need is attachment, and God’s deepest way of relating to us is through attachment. Dr Moreland then posed a question: “What are our attachment strategies that are not healthy, that don’t help us become more like Jesus?”
Ouch.
My typical strategy for dealing with loneliness is to try to have everything under control – most especially my own future.
God has been very good to me, these past four years. I think He called me to be alone, so that in that quiet space He could do important work: to help me know who I am, be comfortable with myself, to do a lot of necessary healing, and to grow spiritually. Along the way, He helped me recognize a real vocation for teaching and writing.
Now, though, I recognize that He is calling me, slowly but surely, away from solitude – even though being alone is, in many ways, the “safer” option for me. He has shown me that I need others, and that means taking the risk of friendship, trust, and love. Four years ago, I was nervous even to have a friend. What if people don’t like me? Can I trust anyone? Four years of living as part of my parish family has taught me that yes, I can trust people to care about me.
The difficulty arises in that although I want to live according to God’s plans for me, I struggle with wanting to know exactly how it all works out. If I am sure of how God has called me to live the past few years, I automatically want to extend that to the rest of my life: I want to have the plan, in black and white. In answer to Dr Moreland’s question, then: my (unhealthy) strategy for dealing with loneliness is a rigid self-sufficiency that means that I don’t have to risk disappointment.
Considering all the ways that God has challenged me to grow outside of my comfort zone in the past four and a half years – including, but not limited to, being baptized, going back to school, and writing a book – you would think I’d stop being surprised when He asks me to grow. But this time I thought I had everything figured out, my life planned ahead of me. I had friends; my professional work was sufficient to keep me very busy. Family? Don’t think about it. Loneliness? Under control, thank you very much!
Dr Moreland spoke of a second effect of the Fall: the inception of shame and guilt, with accompanying fear. We ask ourselves, “Will people reject me if they learn I am not as I ought to be?” We need a sense of safety and forgiveness – including forgiving ourselves and no longer punishing ourselves for our failures. (Dr Moreland, were you speaking directly to me with this talk? It sure seemed like it!)
I have experienced the grace of God’s forgiveness for the wreckage in my past; over the last four years I have experienced the grace of His healing. Now it seems that God is calling me to fully accept that forgiveness. To live it out! Frightening – and exhilarating.
Dr Moreland said that the third effect of the Fall on human nature is a loss of real purpose; left to ourselves, we become bored, and seek various kinds of pleasure to deal our boredom. In my own life, I am rarely bored, but I recognize that if I cling to control over every aspect of my future, then I will not look for God’s real purposes for me – and I will lose sight of Him. Oh! this is a hard thing to face. It means I have to actually, in practice, trust God as I move into a future unknown to me!
Given these three effects of the Fall, Dr Moreland told us, our only hope is to become a full disciple of Jesus Christ. Discipleship, he said, is both hard and easy. It is hard because all new skills are hard at first; it is easy compared to the difficulties of not following Christ. (True, that.) And, he added, “the spiritual life has to start with facing the truth about ourselves.”
What truth do I need to face? It is my fear of disappointment and rejection. It is easier for me to deny the need for attachment than to risk pain. But over the last four years, bit by bit, through mentors, friends, and father figures, God has helped me learn about right relationship, with Him and with others. This past year I have discovered that there is a grace that God gives when I manage to move forward in trust and hope, persevering even in the face of self-doubt.
As I reflect on Dr Moreland’s lecture, I begin to think that God is inviting me to be more of a risk-taker, to trust in Him even when I myself don’t see how things will all work out. That’s difficult for me; perhaps it is difficult for all of us, and that is why God has to remind us that with Him, all things are possible.
As my favorite poet, Gerard Manley Hopkins, said:
“My own heart let me have more pity on…
… leave comfort root-room; let joy size
At God knows when to God knows what…”
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This is a wonderful commentary on J.P.’s talk, Holly. I, too, am a “future control freak.” I am slowly learning to be comfortable with the fact that I’ll never have it all mapped out, and even if I did, that in no way means God would follow MY map! I’m just lately coming to understand that we go through many seasons in life, and what God’s purpose and plan for us in the present season may not be the same for the next. I’m learning to just hold on tight.
Moreland’s courage to even speak of “the fall” gives me hope. I believe many people reject the original sin doctrine (the priest whose classes we took for confirmation in 1967 was one of them) and thus put blame on God for the ills of this world. The blame goes on Satan and all of Adam and Eve’s children who believe the enemy rather than God. I too want to control and schedule my life. You’d think after 67 years of knowing I can’t that I’d recognize that I can’t. But I want that security of all the “i’s dotted and t’s crossed” rather than the trust that leads to God’s exciting revelations to us. That old “let go and let God” slogan contains real truth–and it’s sometimes more than I can handle. I’m reading Thomas a Kempis again. He too speaks of surrender, of God being all in all to us, our future, our present, our home, our satisfaction. I fear this reply is a bit disjointed, but Holly, you’ve given me a lot to mull over. Thank you.