So, I have been exhausted the last couple of days. Granted, I have been staying up later watching the Olympics lately, but that really does not seem to account for my fit of fatigue. I am not going to obsess about it, but I am sure that part of my need for sleep has been due to some extra stressors that I have been dealing with lately. Nothing big, just the regular stuff that gets me uptight about the rest of the year. Planning for Christmas, using new worship software and converting our existing files, gearing myself up for children's music, and so on. It could also be that I have had something every night for the last three weeks straight (maybe not really, but it feels like that). Thankfully, I only have a wedding this weekend (and possibly a funeral, hurray!) and no more on the schedule for more than a month.
Speaking of the Olympics. There has been some talk this time around about how the process for training gymnasts has really changed over the years, especially in the former or current communist nations. Back in the day, they would find children who were possibly gifted and take them away from their parents and train them to be champions. They did this in the Soviet Union and still do so in China. One comment I heard was that this system may not be in place anywhere when the next Olympics takes place in 2012.
OK, so what is the point. This very disciplined system of training produced results. Think about how often the Soviets won. They were a power house in most events. The only time the Americans had a chance in gymnastics was the one year the Soviets boycotted the Olympics. And this year, the Chinese have been dominant in most areas, but especially in gymnastics, because their honor is on the line and they have an innate drive to win. You can see it in their eyes. Determination to see it through to the end.
I, like all children who grew up during the Cold War, had a distinct fear of the Soviets because they might nuke us. And this fear filtered down to Olympic events as well. They always seemed so prepared, and that frightened me for my country because I hoped we would be as prepared if the time came to meet them head on. But besides this fear, I had a sense of awe at their level of discipline. What they were doing meant something to these people. It was all they had.
But this is rarely the case in America. Nobody takes children away to train to be Olympic athletes, thank God. And, after the Olympics, the athletes go back to their normal lives. Granted, their normal lives include intense training, but it is never all that they do. Even Michael Phelps and his coach have stated they will be taking several months off from training. I think we live such multi-faceted lives in this country that very few of us ever commit so much to one thing. "I have a life" people say in order to excuse their inability to excel or their unwillingness to commit to what it will take to be the very best.
Now how does this "I have a life" mentality affect the way we serve God? Doesn't it have a way of excusing our inability to commit all we have to God? Is it not a way of excusing us from making disciples and living out the Great Commission? Well, I have a life and I cannot stop everything and do that. I guess I am wondering if we the Church could learn to be disciplined would there be more disciples? Should we consider the possibility that the ascetics of long ago were right in their willingness to die to self and surrender all they had and spend all their time with God? Granted, I do not want to sit atop a platform on a pole in the desert for years and have people come out to look at me and marvel at my spiritual discipline, or like St. Anthony, lock myself in a tomb and have people bring me food so I can stay away from the devil's torment. So then, how do we fully commit to the spiritual disciplines without becoming completely unaware of our culture?
3 comments:
"So then, how do we fully commit to the spiritual disciplines without becoming completely unaware of our culture?"
Why do you feel the two are mutually exclusive?
I don't particularly feel that the two are mutually exclusive. I think many people do, however, and therein is my question. Do we have to be like St. Anthony in order to be disciplined yet still be a member of the human race? Of course not.
I guess I hold St. Anthony and the like in far lower esteem than many. In fact, I find most forms of piety, in general, to be misguided and selfish (at least for the long term). We were so clearly created to exist, to thrive, to find purpose in community. While it cannot help but be true, in a fallen world, that certain spiritual disciplines will seperate us from humanity, I cannot believe that they were all intended to set us apart from others. In fact, I believe most were designed with just the opposite in mind. That is to say, the spiritually disciplined life is of more value and import in a social context than it is in isolation. Maybe I am erring on the side of missionality here, but I feel a safe margin for error where the great commission and the second half of the great commandment are concerned--largely because it appears a gross percentage of both the Old and New Testaments deal with spiritual disciplines on a community, not an individual level.
I guess what I am trying to say is, fully committing to personal spiritual disciplines should highten one's awareness of truth in and, consequently, enhance the ability to function as one who demonstrates Christ within his/her culture. Any more exclusive motivation would seem self serving and inconsistent with what I have come to know of the Trinity (the community of God).
That's my feeling anyway.
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