For us, one of something is never enough, which plays hell with our theology

Book 2, Chapter 2

-Part 2 continued-

This particular section in my copy of Caussade’s book takes up less than two pages – just a few moments to read. But, this part really makes me want to look away and find something less arduous to read. The good father has found me out, and his invitation to my own complete freedom with God in Christ accuses me, at the same time, for having become accustomed to and comfortable with my entanglements.

I am a comfy Christian, I confess; a product of my society; friend of the world and occasional thinker of higher things. I like to think of myself as among the beloved of God, but I shy away from considering the consequences of being so loved. Frankly, I like being loved by God, and I also like all the people and things and toys that make my life my life.

When we come to the aspect of Christian spirituality that leans disturbingly inward upon my soul – that is, my suitable response to the God who is precisely and lovingly my life is to be an all-or-nothing one – this makes me start looking for exit signs. There must be some way to get out of this!

A very unfamiliar and uncommon word comes to mind: “Singularity,” with the nuance of “one,” or “sole.” Not since the days that “stereophonic sound” was coined by Western Electric in 1927, beginning the gradual demise of one-channel monophonic sound reproduction, have we been led to think that one of something is enough.

We are a two-channel people (at least two). Take away one of our speakers or pull out one ear bud, and the sound is less than half as good. Philosophically, we like to take two opposing concepts and mash them together in a Hegelian stew to synthesize a third new entity. As a people, we have either become pluralists or fans of pluralism beneath the loving care of one God who describes Himself as “one,” and who is like no other thing or person in all existence.

As we live and pray before an all-or-nothing Lord who asks us to be singular in our attachment to Him, we will be quite naturally in conflict with this God and the multi-stranded attachments that we have invited or permitted that hold us bound to the Earth. Possibly we are bad people. More probably, we carry around a poor-quality Christianity.

For example, a few days ago I wrote “Self-love and self-denial cannot occupy the same person.” Well they can if we twist Christianity out of shape and make the faith something that it is, indeed, not. We might, in passing, have to also adjust our definitions of “self,” “love,” and “denial.” If we mess with the words enough, we can come up with a satisfying “both/and” distortion from an “either/or.”

It is possible that the actual true Christian faith has been buried beneath a barrage of semantics and clever words. Since the day Jesus said we cannot serve two masters (Matthew 6:24), we have done everything we can to prove him wrong. He told us the kingdom of heaven was like a hidden treasure in a field, or a pearl of great value, where the discoverer “sells everything he owns” to buy the field or the pearl (Matthew 13:44-46). We have since then tried to figure out how to acquire the treasure without selling everything.

We think we know stuff. We will find a way around everything God ever said. We damage our souls every time we nod in agreement to the world. The infinite transcendent difference between the realm of the fallen world and the realm of the kingdom of glory cannot be filled by all the Christians in the world who want a life that is one part God and three parts world.

If I may dare quote Kierkegaard again, “Christianity and worldliness never come to an understanding with one another – even for a moment.” (Works of Love, Page 82.) Whenever we think we have successfully mitigated the two, we do untold damage to the faith, to our own soul, and to the people in our world, who each must have a clear depiction of Christ from us.