I was a teenage fundamentalist - part nine

Keep on keeping on

W

hat keeps us afloat as we pursue the way, the truth and the life? Who guards our hearts?

When we are honest, we will recognise our need for periodic pitstops. We all need, from time to time, to pause, have a good look at our lives and own our imperfections.

We are heirs of the kingdom, we are loved by God and can embrace His will; but the key’s not yet in our pockets. Our hard-won victories, our feats in conquering our demons, may not balance with our pratfalls; our defeats. That is the truth of our human existence. When we deny it we lessen Jesus’ sacrifice, diminish God’s grace and kid ourselves into the bargain.

The truth is that our wins are not merely or solely ‘ours’. Nor are our losses. We are part of the Body of Christ, the church. We are also intrinsically part of relationships, businesses, study groups, families, congregations, communities and societies that are the richer for our efforts and the poorer for our abandonments.

One of the beautiful symmetries of the Christian faith is the dichotomy between the reform and ‘death’ of self (by the indwelling power of the Holy Spirit) and the choice to live as Christians or ‘little Christs’ (that exercise of free will is ours to make, through human agency).

As the ninth doctrine of the Salvation Army states, ‘We believe that continuance in a state of salvation depends upon continued obedient faith in Christ.’ He who comes to God must believe that He is, the Bible tells us, and he rewards those who seek Him. That seeking includes obedience to His will; never an easy process for human beings who want to steer their own dodgem cars.

Continued salvation. Continued obedient faith. We are called to rest in God, yet we also have to work out our salvation in fear and trembling. Caught between heaven and earth, that is our lot; to embrace grace while working out God’s will.

Our eternal future (life beyond this life), while certain in that will, is not bulletproof to the point of complacency or arrogance on our part. In our humanity we respond in the phraseology of that great 20th century pop-cultural prophet, Homer J. Simpson, would respond: D’oh!

We are made, as the psalmist wrote, ‘a little lower than the angels’. We reflect the image of our Maker. But there are other perspectives that distract from the loving kindness we see in the face of God.

Thankfully, we believe the grace of God the Father, the love of Jesus the Son and the communion of the Holy Spirit can save us from ourselves; our selfish harbouring of hurts, insecurities, lusts, fears, petty hatreds, professional jealousies and indignant protestations at perceived attacks on our dignity.

Scripture and prayer, meditation and the guidance of good friends and mentors have helped me look into and ‘out of’ God’s eyes. His perspective on life takes me outside of myself. This is by no means a surprise. The church has celebrated the presence of God in believers’ lives since its inception.

I have also been refreshed, throughout my life, by the arts; especially through music and literature. Also not exactly hot off the presses: God the creator works creatively.

For me, the unfortunately-named Christian muso Randy Stonehill lit up the 1980s, just as his mentor Larry Norman had scooted through the Christian cultural morass of the ’70s. A lot of my struggles with ‘who is God?’ and ‘who am I?’ were influenced by the vinyl-encased writings of the likes of Stonehill, David Meece, Amy Grant, Michael W. Smith, Phil Keaggy, Kenny Marks, Russ Taff etc., etc., etc.

It was quite the growth industry in that day and age, and a large percentage of my weekly income as a teenager and young adult went in to the coffers of my local Word bookstore.

Take Randy’s feisty song ‘Angry Young Men’ (1985), which seemed to be penned in response to the scornful, self-aware lyrics of ‘Angry Young Man’ (1976) by Billy Joel.

Joel, a favourite musician of mine, had accused the morally earnest of ’self-righteous rage’ and said that ‘just surviving is a noble fight’ (instead of pursuing a ‘pointless point of view’).

Stonehill, however, said that passion - anger - can be a righteous gift. ‘Rest assured when Jesus comes again,’ he thundered, ‘He’ll be looking for some angry young men. ‘He wants some angry young men with fire in their eyes, ones who understand what Jesus gave. Ones who have grown weary of the world and all its lies, ones who won’t forget they’ve been delivered from the grave.’

That kind of holy passion is rare. In some instances we find ourselves in danger of channelling our inner Ned (Flanders) in a parody of faith, a jarring bundle of cultural twitches and a lack of self-awareness.

The media view of Christianity, the projection of the Ned Flanders of the faith, is less than complimentary. Drag yourself through life in boredom and clouds of judgmental misery. But we believe Christ came to give us joy. To give us life in all its fullness. To help us help others through the Spirit, our desire to live obediently and our actions that, in love, prefer one another.

Pray hard, act justly, live hopefully.

Just as to be assured of our salvation we need to exercise our faith, so we (to practise our faith helpfully) must exercise our minds and guard against the small-mindedness and bureaucracy that stunts our spiritual growth and practical work.

Consider this cautionary tale from William Booth’s In Darkest England and the Way Out (1890); one he qualifies by stating ‘I am somewhat slow to credit this incident; anyway it is true in spirit’.

‘There is a story told enough to be true about a young girl who applied one evening for admission to some home established for the purpose of rescuing fallen women. The matron naturally inquired whether she had forfeited her virtue; the girl replied in the negative.

‘She had been kept from infamy, but she was poor and friendless, and wanted somewhere to lay her head until she could secure work and obtain a home.

‘The matron must have pitied her, but she could not help her as she did not belong to the class for whose benefit the Institution was intended.

‘The girl pleaded but the matron could not alter the rule, and dare not break it, they were so pressed to find room for their own poor unfortunates, and she could not receive her.

‘The poor girl left the door reluctantly but returned in a very short time, and said, “I am fallen now, will you take me in?”‘

‘The matron could not help her… matron could not alter the rule… she could not receive her.’

The underlying reality of this possibly real, possibly fabricated story is that the matron chose not to help her.

Does the parable of the Good Samaritan ring true for anyone? Salvationists are just as capable of being Pharisees, Levites and ‘passers-by’ as anybody else. Booth’s anecdote is hardly an inspiring example of Salvationism, or - more importantly - an example of an obedient faith in Christ.

God protect us from the niggardly, bureaucratic, love-deficient matrons of this world, the dog-in-the-manger Marthas who would rather boss their sisters around in the kitchen than sit at the feet of Jesus.

Bureaucracy and regulation overcame compassion and common sense. The exercise of power and control was more important in that scenario than the needs of the individual.

Therein lies the Army’s doom.

By grace we are saved through faith, that none should boast. But not everyone who calls out ‘Lord, Lord’, not everyone who bleeds yellow, red and blue, will recognize or enter the kingdom of God. May God spare us from being a parody of grace.

Let me leave you with more words of wisdom from that same song, ‘Angry Young Men’.

‘You’ll be tempted, tried and tested, there’ll be wars the devil wins, but God’s love is not a license to lie there in your sins. He understands the human heart, His mercy is complete, but His grace was not intended as a place to wipe your feet.’

Amen, Randy. 

Writer: Barry Gittins is a Melbourne-based writer, lifelong Salvationist, husband (to Trudy) and father(to Emily and Benjamin) who seeks God in everyday encounters. A frustrated poet and playwright, he has worked for the Salvos’ Australia Southern Territory in various roles since 1991: as a journalist (for Warcry, The Young Soldier/Kidzone, The Musician),technical writer and CD-ROM author in corps program (mission development), senior review editor (Warcry) and editor (On Fire). He currently works as a social program and policy consultant (writer/researcher) for the social program department.

1 Comment to I was a teenage fundamentalist - part nine

1. Barry

   I loved the following that you wrote:

   God protect us from the niggardly, bureaucratic, love-deficient matrons of this world, the dog-in-the-manger Marthas who would rather boss their sisters around in the kitchen than sit at the feet of Jesus.

   Bureaucracy and regulation overcame compassion and common sense. The exercise of power and control was more important in that scenario than the needs of the individual.

   Therein lies the Army’s doom.

   By grace we are saved through faith, that none should boast. But not everyone who calls out ‘Lord, Lord’, not everyone who bleeds yellow, red and blue, will recognize or enter the kingdom of God. May God spare us from being a parody of grace.

   And I am sorry to say that there are many like that in our Corps sitting in the pews as selfrighteous as they can be.

   John S.
John Stephenson on March 17th, 2010

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