Monday, October 30, 2006

Rich Mullins: The Most Important Thing Yesterday in our Bible class on The Call, we talked about identity, and the centrality of the call to our sense of identity. One of the guys in the class, an artist who does percussion and leather working, sent me this quote from singer-songwriter Rich Mullins. My friend said he thought I would like it. He's right. From an interview by Sheila Walsh: SW: I want you to imagine, if you will, that we were in Seattle, in a little café. Nobody bothering us, no gig to do, nobody pestering you. We just sat down to cappuccino. Somebody said to you, 'What's the most important thing... what are the most important things in your life?' RM: At any given moment it might be slightly different, but I would imagine that nothing would be more important than becoming fully who you were supposed to be. You know what I mean? For me, that's what salvation is all about. Heart to Heart Interview Sheila Walsh Heart to Heart, Christian Broadcasting Network May 20, 1992 Copyright 1992 by the Christian Broadcasting Network Yeah, I want to be saved... 7:37:48 AM    comment []

A Prodigal Son Hypothetical A couple of thoughts on sin, how we relate to it, and it's connection with story. Let me start with a hypothetical situation growing out of Jesus' prodigal son story. The relationship between the father and the wayward son is broken when the son leaves home to spend his inheritance in "riotous living." The relationship is restored when the son comes home repentant. What I wonder is how the relationship would then have proceeded? What would have been their conversation as they related to the past? Would the father have wanted to hear about the son's exploits? Would they have then shoved it all under the rug? Now that the sins had been forgiven, would the father say, "Let's never speak of them again?" Would the son need to process those sins in some way, seeing as how these experiences were now part of his humanity, his character, and his identity? If he did have that need, would the father have willingly come to know his wounded and reborn son, wounds and all? To put it like that makes it obvious (at least to me) that the father would want to know his son's story, not in order to condemn, but in order to know his son. The father would create a space wherein the son might mourn and grow--better yet, wherein they might mourn and grow together. Here's the problem for those who would reduce the life of faith to moral behavior. What do we do with failure? What do we do with the sin that will mark us? Yes, confess. Yes, repent. Then what? How do we relate ourselves to our histories, the truths of our lives? To use the old language of Thomas Moore (Care of the Soul and James Hillman (The Soul's Code, do we befriend, even honor our experiences, seeing as how they made us who we are? Or do we live in antagonism with our past, keeping it under wraps, denying its place in our identity? Seems obvious, doesn't it? Here's where story comes in. Truth is needed, and story, in one sense, rests on sin's presence. What is story if not battling obstacles, sins, evil enemies, and the evil in ourselves? Artists must tell the truth because the stories of who we are must be told fully, with all their ugliness, if we are to understand who we are. If the father wants to know the son, he must sit and listen to the boy's story, share his pain, mourn alongside, and when they emerge into the daily reconstruction of the restored relationship, they do it with rich, shared knowledge of life. Intimacy... 6:17:10 AM    comment []

© Copyright 2006 Jeff Berryman .