Epiphany… the Word Made Flesh
Is separate really better? I’ve been talking lately with some Christian people who sincerely believe it’s best to separate ourselves from the culture at large. This is nothing new, nor is it completely unexpected. As Christians we create a subculture that mimics and replaces mainstream. One could be completely immersed in a totally-Christian world – reading only Christian books, hearing only Christian music, watching only Christian television and movies. If you try hard enough, you could even eat only foods that are produced and prepared by Christians.
As an example, the cries for a mass “exodus” from the public schools is louder now than ever… if you have doubts, visit www.exodusmandate.org. They have posted a video making a startling comparison. The video tells the story of Dunkirk, a town on the French coast. In 1940, at the height of WWII, more than 300,000 Allied troops were trapped in Dunkirk as the German Nazi army closed in. Rather than allow their capture, an event that might have been a death knell for the Allied cause, French and British civilians gathered 860 boats of various sizes – from fishing boats to pleasure yachts – and ferried the soldiers to safety in Britain.
The founders of the Exodus Movement compare Christian children in today’s public schools to those troops at the village of Dunkirk – besieged by enemies who seek their utter destruction. The best course of action, the movement claims, is a grassroots effort, much like the improvised armada of Dunkirk, that pulls all Christian children to “safety,” whether it be in Christian schools or to homeshool environments.
There is a constant tightrope for us as Christians. We are called to be “in the world but not of the world,” a phrase we hear often that is actually drawn from Jesus’ prayer for his disciples in John 17:14-15. It is a tightrope we constantly walk, and admittedly most of us (myself included) have trouble with one side or the other – that is, we are either too much “of” the world, or we are not enough “in” it.
I would say the trend of Evangelical Christians today is toward the latter. I can certainly understand this point of view. In a world that grows increasingly hostile to the Christian faith (at least, to the Christian faith that keeps its substance), it’s easy to put up our defenses. To avoid the sin that is so prevalent around us, it is easier to separate than to resist. And so we build our own little cocoon, piece by piece. We surround ourselves with all things Christian – books, movies, music, church friends. And as we make our exodus from the public arena, we seal off the cocoon at last. We’re safe.
Problem is, when we are in the cocoon, we don’t have any way to influence the world outside the cocoon.
Isn’t this what the concepts of “epiphany” and “incarnation” are all about? Jesus could easily have appeared as a fully-grown man, walked up to the cross and died. For that matter, he could have found a quicker, less painful and humiliating way to die. You and I understand this idea, too – we call it efficiency.
But that’s not what happened, is it? Instead, Jesus took the inefficient route – he really came to be “in” the world. Born in the messy business of childbirth, surrounded by cattle and dung. Learning and practicing the all-too-mundane carpenter’s trade as he grew into a man. Sleeping under the stars, a homeless man wandering from town to town with his band of friends. Spending the great majority of his time not holed up in the courts of the temple or surrounded by the holy-rollers, but out in the streets, with beggars, prostitutes and thieves. Attending weddings, telling jokes, breaking down in tears because he’d lost a good friend…
It doesn’t sound like Jesus kept himself in a cocoon. In fact, the holy people of the day accused Jesus of leaning toward the “of the world” bit they were so afraid of! If there was any Dunkirk-ery going on, it was not geographic or social in nature, but spiritual. Rather than Jesus being an allegory of Dunkirk, Dunkirk is an allegory of Jesus – who rowed in, got his hands wet, and pulled us from the water that meant certain death for us otherwise.
Jesus was in the world – he pitched his tent, but he didn’t build a permanent home. He touched the world, but didn’t hold on too tightly. He listened to the world, but he remembered and reminded us of the story that is beyond the world. He enjoyed the world and its God-given pleasures, but he regarded them as shadows of the true pleasures that awaited beyond this world. He took the world in, but he didn’t let the world take him over. It was only by walking this balance – not efficient, but definitely effective – that Jesus was able to touch so many lives so deeply while he was here that his story is still being spread today.
Jesus is our role model in all things – so why not in this?
How must our cocooning seem to those who really need rescuing from danger? Think how it must look to people outside the cocoon. We’re saying “come join us! Things are better in here. Just give up all the fun stuff and then we’ll talk.” Why would anyone want to be a part of that? No wonder people treat most Christians with distance at best, contempt and loathing at worst.
All of this ranting doesn’t make the fine line any bigger: It’s still a tough road to walk. But with Jesus leading the way, the path becomes clearer with every step. We may not like where it leads us at times, but one glance at Jesus in Gethsemane reminds us that Jesus didn’t always like it either. We may face ridicule sometimes. We might even be persecuted, though we’re a long way yet from that. We might even have to (*GASP*) enjoy the things of the world and enjoy them discerningly. We might have to resist temptation rather than always run from it.
That path might not be as efficient and clean. But it comes a lot closer to effectively following Jesus than the cocoon ever will.
