In a review of a new book by John Le Carre I read a sentence that stirred my thinking. Whether the thought came directly from the book or from the pen of the reviewer I’m not sure, but it’s a relevant one none the less. Le Carre writes about spies, especially old spies who have to adapt to a new, modern society in which their training and occupation has become irrelevant. (This definition of his work doesn’t do Le Carre justice, but its close enough to home for you to understand the basic context of the reviewer’s remark). The important thought occurs when the reviewer remarks that Le Carre’s spies seem to remain eternal outsiders – because people who know as much as they do can never be part of society again.
And I realized that most Christians are like old spies, seemingly destined to remain eternal outsiders. It is quite normal for us to be so, in fact, it is our automatic state.
Jesus reminded us in his own words that we are not from this world. That being a Christian entails a realization that we are from a distant spiritual planet and we only invade this earth for a very short time. The more we learn about God, the more we realize this other-worldliness that we carry around in us. We are taught to embrace this truth and to live it out as much as we can.
Not only do we know (a little about) God, studying Him, his works and his Word for the sake of survival, but we are students of self and of society. We take the longer view when in prayer we sift through our minds and motivations for things impure. We analyze and scrutinize society so as to spot the values and tendencies which don’t reflect God’s kingdom. These are the things we wish to identify, address and hopefully rectify.
And so we become students, critics, analysts and spies. We reflect upon God, ourselves and our society, knowing that these things need to be done for the sake of growth and change. We become outsiders.
But we have a problem. The example of Christ, as always, becomes the pebble we find very hard to swallow. Because He came from as far outside as is imaginable (being God, you know) and He went as far inside as is conceivable. He embraced not only humanity as a concept, but the humans inside it. Can you imagine living with this man who called himself Messiah? In stead of preaching from the lofty pulpit as he surely could have, he spent his time with twelve men of whom not many great things can be said. He embraced Samaritans and lepers and reached out to public sinners like Zacchai and the woman at the well. That He not only reached out to Zacchai but went to his house for a hearty meal, communicates everything I’m trying to say about him. He seemingly became an insider without ever losing his identity. He infiltrated society to a point that became an embarrassment for his followers, without ever losing his inclination to bring about change. While showing mercy to a woman about to be stoned for adultery, he still lashed
out at merchants in the temple. While dining with a sinful, greedy little Jew, he also shredded the Pharisees for being nothing more than mime artists. He never compromised, he never lost his edge and he never stepped outside.
So how is it that we, who call ourselves followers of this Christ, become critics, analysts, theologians, sociologists, commentators and decorated students of God, self and society, when the example set for us by our Lord is so different? Why do we study his life and come out looking much more like the Pharisees he so despised than like him? Why do we think that we need to withdraw from society to be best able to understand it? Surely by now we know that the only change that is real takes place from the inside. In order for me to know God better I have to become one with him, step inside him. To change my own nature I have to know and accept who I am, embracing all parts of my nature when I present it to God as a useful thing. In order to change society, just like Jesus I have to dive into it as deeply as the water will allow and find my feet there at the bottom of the pit. Once I have been accepted as part of the furniture, I can lift my head and show my nature. Anything else would be an educated but arrogant voice that is disregarded as “surely irrelevant”. As rightly it should.
In truth we are afraid. Afraid of losing our edge. Of compromising our value system. Of finding our faith so challenged that we might loose the foundation for it in our lives. Of facing so many questions that we later wonder whether we have any answers at all for the wreck that the world has become. Of all the wonderful things our position as outsiders offer, the safety it provides is the greatest.
But can a true Christian ever be happy in such an irrelevant state?
Apparently so.
We have found millions of people who are just as outside as we are and we find comfort in knowing that we are not alone. We have so many friends and followers that we stop noticing that we are only being salt and light to the preserved and illuminated. We are a third or fourth generation of old spies: We know so much but we have lost our edge. But it’s the only life we know and we think it’s the way things are supposed to be.
Which is why the life and lyrics of Jesus Christ was written up and is in our possession. Which is why we always feel moderately to terribly uncomfortable when we read about this Godman who stepped inside society to a degree that was deemed improper by all religious folk. He never built his own church on a hill. He never created a Christian subculture. In fact it looks like he loathed those things. He was a radical insider. Personally I don’t believe He was this because as God He wanted to change and liberate. I think that as a human he loved people. He was inquisitive and selfless. He wanted to be there where ordinary people were being themselves. And He felt safe all the while, because he knew that his unchangeable nature was godliness. That he could swim in the mud and come out clean. We should know the same about ourselves.
One of my heroes is a guy called Tony Campolo. He is famous for all kinds of critical analysis, sociological studies, public speaking, spiritual advice given to world leaders…and so on – things we Christians believe to be very important. But I love him because He loves being an insider. He holds birthday parties for prostitutes, getting to know them (albeit not intimately) and showing them from the inside that they are lovable. You know how many sermons have been delivered about the wrongfulness of prostitution and how little it has accomplished. And here’s Tony doing something great from the inside and it changes lives. The analogies to the life of Christ are so apparent that it would be an insult to your intelligence to point them out.
We have to seriously and urgently ask ourselves this: Are we like defunct old spies who know so much about the inner workings of the world that our knowledge separates us from it? Is it impossible for us to be fully human, knowing what we know about God, ourselves and this sick world?
Most Christians come to the Lord because they are keen to go to heaven: an understandable motivation. Most Christians are so keen to get there that they build themselves a little heaven to live in while here on earth.
What would Jesus do?
The opposite of that, is what.
