The Dark Place

It is a circumstance/setting/time that goes by many names. St. John of the Cross called it, "The Dark Night of the Soul." Henri Nouwen referred to it as "a place of solitude." Some would call it retreat, though that word has been pacified and candied to mean nothing more than temporary respite.

For retreat is not a place to rest and recharge our batteries so we can charge back into the fray, doing the same things the same way, and dealing with the same draining frustrations. Retreat is transformation, and transformation necessitates a journey to the dark place. The place of solitude can be a battleground; literally, the site of spiritual warfare. It brings us face to face with the real darkness within each of us...a darkness that no amount of positive thinking, determination, or slick veneer can erase.

It is the place where we can no longer depend on the scaffolding we have carefully constructed to prop up the illusion of our lives. No achievement placards adorn the walls. The people who smile, slap us on the back, and glad-hand us at parties are utterly gone. The appearance we have carefully sculptured in ourselves, in those around us, and in the adornments that frame us have disappeared. The familiar sound of affirming voices is replaced by deafening silence. The fastidiously preserved foundations of our cherished past no longer matter, for they have vanished. We do not even have access to the family and friends whom we love the most, and whose presence fills our lives with joy and purpose. All the surrounding "lights" of our lives are out, and we stand just as we are - the good, the bad, and the ugly that is us - in utter darkness. It is a darkness so complete, that, like a frightened child, we are to terrified to take a step in any direction.

It is in this place, the dark place, that faith becomes real, and not just verbiage and show. For at this point, there are two choices. We can give in to despair, believing that life is nothing more than staving off the reality of nothingness as long as we can. Or, we can leap into the arms of Jesus, who is the only light against whom the darkness cannot prevail, and who is relentlessly, furiously reaching to us in the dark night.

Scary...few people journey intentionally to the dark place of the soul, for good reason. But those who do find a light worth living for and a faith worth dying for. And that transforms the world.

I'll see you around the next bend in the river.

Bonding and Bridging

As I enter the second half of my sabbatical leave I'm reading some fascinating books. One of them is UnChristian: What a New Generation Really Thinks about Christianity by David Kinnaman and Gabe Lyons. This is a must-read for any Jesus followers who are serious about offering a relationship with Jesus among those born after Vietnam. If you don't digest and take seriously the findings of these two accomplished culturalists and researchers, don't even bother with trying to "get those young people in church."

The other is Bowling Alone by Harvard professor and researcher Robert D. Putnam. This book was given to me by a friend, and it tracks the decline of a sense of "community" in American culture. It's a little dated; written in 2000, before the emergence of MySpace/Facebook/Twitter-type social networking. Still, the overall data is telling. We don't make direct social connection like we once did, and social connection itself is being redefined.

Many of you may have already encountered this book and/or Putnam's findings and projections.
One thing that's important is the concept of "social capital" - the fact that social groupings have value and power, that affects people both individually and collectively. Putnam notes the difference between groups that are designed for BONDING (which are exclusive) and groupings that are designed for BRIDGING (which are inclusive.) He says, "Bonding social capital is...good for 'getting by,' but bridging social capital is good for 'getting ahead.' ...Bonding social capital constitutes a kind of sociological superglue, whereas bridging capital provides a sociological WD-40." (Page 23.) Both have value, and human beings gain from both. One leans toward stasis, though, while the other leans toward growth. Bonding says, "We're happy with who we are and who we have," while bridging says, "We exist to bring more in."

It seems to me that many established churches have done the bonding thing real well, but are now struggling to swing the pendulum to the bridging side. That's my two cents for the day and week. I'll see you around the next bend in the river.