Back on the Road

I live near the top of an approximately mile long hill-some of it fairly steep. If I were to leave my driveway, point the car down the hill, then throw it in neutral and take my hands off the wheel, the car might find the bottom of the hill-it would at least go somewhere. I am far less confident, though, that it would stay in the correct lane and not be the cause of damage to itself, or other things. In fact it would most certainly drift left or right until it bounced off the curb, or ran through neighboring yards, or got hung up on a pole or tree. To get to the bottom unscathed, I need to input constant course adjustments.

Such it is with this odyssey we are all individually on called life. I find, as a professed Christ follower, that at times I feel connected, in tune, actively aware of His Lordship, and provision, and guidance in my life. Other times His presence, it seems is, to borrow a Pink Floyd line, a distant ship smoke on the horizon. Like the "business cycle" we are told about in Economics, my spiritual life seems to drift from periods of growth and expansion to periods of recession-of negative growth. The past few weeks have been just such a period of seeming distance between the things of the Spirit, and me. Today, I had a half-hour or so to spare between leaving the house and being where I had to be, so I went to my secret place-a fairly quiet road on a steep hill that overlooks the North side of town-where I sometimes park to "think". It takes a while, but in that spot, I can usually calm my mind and quiet my spirit and find some clarity. Today I worked through the following:

-It is not Christ who drifts away from me. Quite the opposite. It didn't take much analysis to see why I was in a spiritual recession. Like the car headed down the hill, I need constant, or at least frequent course adjustments, and over the last two weeks or so that has been absent. First, for no more than selfish, indulgent reasons I missed Sunday services 2 weeks in a row. Second, my Tuesday morning get together with 2 Christian brothers couldn't happen last week. That brief, usually unstructured time of sharing, and honesty, and mutual reinforcement has become a vital part of my spiritual diet, as well as the contemplative time alone on the 40 minute or so drive there and back. Tuesday mornings, when we're on, sustains me until Thursday night's Mens Fraternity meeting (which is now ending until the Fall). Third, the discipline of reading either the Bible or something biblical each morning has recently slipped. Instead I've spent that time watching CNBC, trying to make sense of the DOW, and my evenings watching junk like American Idol (trying to make sense of Paula). The reality is, for me, it takes only a few days of spiritual indifference for it to become malignant and poison my attitudes, my thoughts, my language, my whole being. I've just begun reading a book highly recommended and lent to me by one of the Tuesday morning guys The Divine Conspiracy by Dallas Willard. I'm only 30 pages or so in, but, already one short passage has rung my bell. Some fellow, much as I have felt of late, had trouble reconciling-or remembering- His need for dependence on Christ within the details, and minutia of the world of work, and business, and just real everyday life. He tried an experiment, so to speak, of "thinking of Christ 1 second out of every minute", and in only 4 weeks had found a sense of partnership, reliance, and reality that was new and different. Reading that pretty quickly opened my eyes that I might not think of Christ for days at a time! At least not in the sense of real, dependent, surrendering conversation. I'll flounder through my days, frustrated by one difficulty after another, wondering where the "joy" we're promised is! When, in fact, I've turned my back on Him. But He calls me back. He sends a friend to lend me the right book, with the right anecdote, on the right day. He has a radio preacher talk to me, today, about our powerlessness without Christ. And He puts my hands back on the steering wheel, with His.

jls