Disillusioned by the Light of the Cross

So in my last post, I talked about what a gift disillusionment can be.  That it's really only in the disappointment we experience from one another, that we are truly able to see each other - as we are.

I think it's time we start doing the same thing for God. 

Can we let God disappoint us?

Can we let God show up and say "I'm not who you think I am."

Doesn't this happen time and time again in scriptures?

God chooses the dishonest brother, Jacob, and uses him to create a great people.

God chooses Moses - a murderer, and someone who was raised as an Egyptian to deliver the people out of slavery.

God chooses Rahab.

God chooses Solomon (not David's rightful heir, but instead a child of Bathsheba).

God chooses shepherds to be prophets.

God chooses a virgin to bear Christ.

And when God becomes flesh, Jesus does nothing but let people down who place tons of expectations on him.

He comes to Jerusalem as a king, and is killed.

That's not very God-like is it?

God is so opposed to people coming up with ideas about them, that he refuses to give them a name past "I am who I am."

Basically God is telling the people, "Don't put a label on me, cause I'm not going to live into that label.  I'm bigger than that."

And even though God tells us that, we are still really good at putting labels on God.

The Israelites created a golden calf to represent the God that delivered them out of Egypt.

The Israelites turn sacrifice into the only way to worship God.

The Pharisees turn following the Torah as the only way to live as God wants us to live.

We turn good fortune or coincidence into God's blessing.

We turn tragedy into God's punishment.

We spend our time chasing a God that will make us rich (the US dollar).

We spend our money creating God's kingdom on earth (what that looks like depends on if you're a Republican or a Democrat)

We create a God who loves those whom it easy for us to love.

We create a God who hates those whom are different from us.

And then I see Jesus on the cross, and I doubt the whole system.

Why would this God whom I've created in my image willing die because of sin?

Why?

And we can try and explain it away, by using facing words like penal substitution or atonement theory that simply fits into the system I'm living in to. (That'll be another blog post, I'm sure)

Or is there a better, more excellent way?

What if God on the cross is supposed to throw this image of God into doubt and turmoil?

What if I'm supposed to be thinking that things don't add up?

What if I'm supposed to be disillusioned in the light of the cross?

That God is telling me (and the rest of the world) that our view of God isn't what we thought it was.

God shows up and tells us that there's more to God than we thought.

God tells us again and again, that God is bigger than that.

That on the cross, all of my ideas about God should be thrown into question.

My doubts and questions about the system?  They are the questions of a vengeful God.  They are doubts about a God who wants to see pain and suffering.  

My doubts keep me from turning God into another golden calf.

My disillusionment is the very thing that allows me to see God more clearly.

They tell me that God isn't what I thought. 

Instead God is love.

God is sacrificial love that transforms all of creation, bringing all things into a renewed relationship with the very creator of the universe.

 

That's something that I don't need to understand or grasp to understand it's a gift.  

That's something that I don't need to understand or grasp to know that it means I can't live the same way I was living.

That's something that I don't need to understand or grasp to know that I am loved, and am freed to love.

That's something that I don't need to understand or grasp to know that it's something I can keep coming back to, time and time again.

And each time, I might bring different ideas about God with me to the cross, and each time Jesus will be there reminding me about the love God has for me, and for all people, and for all time.

The Gift of Disillusionment

I've been reading a lot of Peter Rollins lately, and have been thinking about something that he talks about quite a lot - the gift of disillusionment.

Now, as one who experiences disillusionment more often than I would like (hazards of being a dreamer, I guess), it's really hard for me to wrap my head around the idea that disillusionment can be a gift.  Especially because so often it's disappointing and sometimes can even be painful.

Nobody likes to have their hopes and expectations crushed.  Nobody likes to have their ideas about their friends shattered.  Nobody likes being "let down."

There's a How I Met Your Mother episode where each of the gang's flaws are pointed out to them.   The episode is Spoiler Alert from Season 3.  Each time a flaw is revealed, we hear the sound of glass shattering.  It almost breaks up the group, because everyone chose to ignore what would irk them most about their friends.

Lily loudly crunching on carrots

And yet, it's only when the glass is shattered - both on the show and in our own lives - that we have an idea of who the other person is.  Instead of truly knowing one another, we create ideas of who the other person should be.

So, of course, instead of loving the other person for who they are, we love our idea of the person we think they are.

This happens all the time, and most of the time our ideas about the other person aren't terribly far off.  We like the same music they like or have the same taste in movies or books.  They think pretty similarly to how we think.  They have similar goals and aspirations.  The list goes on and on.

And our assumptions are helpful - to a point.  They give us places to go in conversation that help us build a relationship with one another.  They help create a sense of community and belonging.

The problem is that when are assumptions hold the relationship or community together.  In these cases our relationships aren't honest.  Our community isn't being faithful to its people.  We love our idea of the other person or our community too much to see them for who (and whose) they are.

In these cases, having our ideas about the other person are necessary.  We need disillusionment (and it's pain) to help us see more clearly.  Our disillusionment actually brings to light a more honest look at the other person.

In other words, the pain of disillusionment is actually a gift.  A gift because we now see the person or community we love on their own terms.  It's an opportunity to enter into a new relationship with the person and accept them not just in spite of, but perhaps because of the ways that they are different from us.

To enter into a relationship that challenges us and helps us to grow.

To enter into real community.

To truly love the person and not just love an extension of our self.

That sounds like a really powerful gift to me.