I’m reading Michael Pollan’s book, The Omnivore’s Dilemma: A Natural History of Four Meals. I want to quote one sentence from his introduction:
… I wonder if it doesn’t make more sense to speak in terms of an American paradox– that is, a notably unhealthy people obsessed by the idea of eating healthily.
When I read that, I was immediately reminded of something that has happened not infrequently in my personal life concerning spirituality. For so many years I had been seeking hard for some answers. Although I had been in the church since I was 16 years old and read and studied the Bible ever since; even though I had gone to bible college and seminary and university to get my several degrees; even though I have been preaching and teaching in the church for all this time, I felt deep down that something was missing. I was thoroughly unsatisfied. The Christian culture I found myself in couldn’t give me peace about how other religions fit into the scheme of things, or how people of other faiths or non-faiths were also on a valid path. I met with spiritual directors and masters from different traditions; I prayed, meditated, contemplated, read so many books from so many streams, wrote scores of journals, all in an attempt to find some understanding and peace. I was an intense, very intense, spiritual seeker.
And I drove my wife Lisa nuts! I remember her so many times saying to me that the more “spiritual” I got, the less attractive I became to her. The more peace I sought, the more agitated I became. The more understanding I sought, the more stupid I would behave. Bottom line: the more I sought, the more lost I became.
I finally realized something I knew all along: there’s no way to reconcile all the complexity of ideas, faiths, traditions, philosophies, and spiritualities that are out there. I finally saw that all these things are ripples riding on the top of a deep current of a concealed unity. The apparent divisions were all unfolding of a deeper and mysterious Oneness. I apprehended the truth that I had to die to all my brain’s attempts to grasp for knowledge. I had to humble myself, die to self, and, in a sense, give up the search. It was necessary for me to, in way, stop struggling to stay on the tumultuous surface and sink, sink way down. It is then and there that I found, kind of by accident, what I had been looking for. And it is far more wonderful than I could imagine or explain.
Contributions to nakedpastor are greatly appreciated.
David Hayward is a pastor artistically stripping to the essential.
I have discovered this same phenomenon (only recently and only touched on its reality in my own life) after 25+ years “in the church” and “in ministry”. And I couldn’t do it while in those worlds.
not to say that others can’t do it while in those worlds by the way
In relationships–any relationship–there are discernable stages or events through which one passes. First there is the “honeymoon” in which each is perfect in the other’s eyes. That may last weeks or years. “He” is the knight in shining armor, “she” is the fair maiden. But eventually, you both start noticing little things; it is when “she” has noticed all the chinks in “his” armor, and wonders how he possibly fought off all those dragons to rescue her; and at the same time, “he” is beginning to wonder if those dragons really tried to keep her captive. That is when you hit the first major crisis of the relationship–often at 7 years more or less. At that point–generally–you deal with some surface issues, sort of like putting a bandaid onto a major hemorage. Some relationships end there, but sometimes bandaids actually work–at least for a time. But again the relationship begins to deteriorate, just as it did the first time, only worse. Then the second major crisis hits. Bandaids no longer work. At this point, either you deal with the REAL issues and begin a resolution of them, or the relationship ends. If you are able to work through this crisis, then you break through to a whole new level of relationship. It is not like the honeymoon; it is deeper, more intense, and more real that it ever might have been.
My wife and I broke through to that level some ten or twelve years ago, and it is GREAT. It sounds to me like you have broken through to it in your rrelationship with God! Congratulations.
John
“One of my own stray childhood fears had been to wonder what a whale might feel like if it had been born and bred in captivity, then released into its ancestral sea.
It was my fear of a world that would expand suddenly, violently, and without rules or laws; bubbles and seaweed and storms and frightening volumes of dark blue that never end.”- Douglas Coupland, ‘Girlfriend in a Coma’
Your last few posts reminded me of this quote- the freedom that we’re made for is far more terrifying and beautiful than we’ve yet been able to imagine!
I gave up on the intense search when I was sixteen – it was doing my head in and I had a sort of nervous breakdown. I decided to become profoundly superficial instead and to mitigate against my sense of alienation by becoming more at home in the world through an appreciation of design and material goods. It was the only way I could survive. I was really pleased when someone said I was ‘frivolous’ because it showed I’d achieved my goal of moving away from being ‘deep’ or perceived as ‘deep’. I see my frivolity as ironic, and it exists alongside my sense of the profound. Sometimes I’ll say something where I mean it both in a superficial way and in a deep way and people can read it as they like. Some people understand that it’s both at once.
One of my favourite quotes is, ‘Laughter is the serious business of Heaven’ – C.S. Lewis, but it’s actually a misquote. It’s ‘Joy is the serious business of Heaven’. For some reason it’s often taken to mean laughter, perhaps from its context.
I get that exactly!
thanks everyone! love that quote judith!!
to say that you put your faith in God, then – is the use of the name, the label of God too limiting, then?
Hey nakedpastor,
I just read this book for a class I’m currently taking; isn’t it just so fascinating!? The part where he talked about ammonia nitrate almost blew my mind! I mean God definitely must have some sick sense of humor! The very fertilizer that is responsible for 2 out of every 5 people being alive today was once used to creates bombs, and to top it off, it was also invented by the same guy who created the gases for the Nazi gas chambers! Insane…
I resemble that paradox!
I can see where a person could stop trying to figure it all out, because they were driving themselves nuts. But once you stop striving, what is it that you just accept? I could say, whatever, there’s probably a God and he’s smarter than me, so I’ll just quit worrying about it all.
But do you then keep reading your Bible? How can you do that without the confusion returning? You still have to decide what this God wants you to be doing. It seems there’s alot more in the Bible besides just having child-like faith.
Oh I never stopped having an interest in theology and spirituality, but I didn’t let it get to me in the same way and tried to become more at home in the world, less alienated. There were reasons for me feeling alienated that had nothing to do with seeking God and more to do with my birth circumstances and family and even where I lived. I felt God was telling me to chill out; that on the great spiritual journey it was time for a picnic. I badly needed grounding.
Hey, Lynn – I really feel a connection with you. (God t hat sounds corny and American! Ugh.) I’m looking for new Windows Live Messenger friends (or similar). I thought at first you were English because your writing style sounds like mine to me. If you would be interested in emailing or messaging, my email is RPrincessTiggy@aol.com, but don’t let me be pushy!
Arulba – why do people say ‘I RESEMBLE that remark? Was it someone’s catchphrase?
David – Reading your post reminded me of a book I would highly recommend to you and to all: Thomas Kelly’s “A Testament of Devotion.” Kelly was a philosophy professor and a Quaker who wrote this book after undergoing a profound conversion experience. It is deeply Christocentric, but also presents an equally deep universalistic understanding of spirituality. It’s also beautifully written — very personal and very moving. A rather young man at the time of his death, Kelly succumbed to a heart attack in 1941, if memory serves; his son is in his mid-seventies and is active in Quaker circles in Maine. The book is still in print. It has been one of the most influential books in my life.
Hey Doug: I read that book years and years ago. I’ve lost my copy. I just ordered again online. Looking forward to re-familiarizing myself with it again. Thanks!!
Tiggy,
Thanks. I’ll send you an email soon.