I
love to sit in the window seat on an airplane; I love the birds-eye
view. On one trip I looked out the window as the plane descended in
preparation for landing and saw beautiful lavender trees dotting a
popular southern California city. This was a pleasure trip for me; I
would be visiting my daughter. But it was the first time I had
visited when these trees were in bloom. I leaned over to ask the man
next to me if he was from this city. He was. Did he know the name of
that trees with the beautiful lavender blossoms? No. I sent a text
message to my new friend (now husband) and asked him what the trees
are called. The Jacaranda trees? Yes!
After
landing I was relaying the conversation to my daughter and her
husband; he said he had never noticed the trees. She had seen them,
though. I was stunned! How is it people who live their lives in a
beautiful climate surrounded by trees and plants taking turns
blooming year round don't recognize or see it? I was captivated by
the joyful color distracting me from concrete and traffic. Now it is
not my desire to be critical of these two men who didn't notice or
recognize the trees; we all are susceptible to being too busy to
notice the truer things in life, things of substance.
Richard
Louv wrote a book titled, Last Child in
the Woods. He quoted Edward Reed's thoughts from,
The Necessity of Experience, “There is something wrong with
a society that spends so much money, as well as countless hours of
human effort—to make the least dregs of processed information
available to everyone everywhere and yet does little or nothing to
help us explore the world for ourselves.” Louv adds, “According
to Reed, we are beginning 'to lose the ability to experience our
world directly. What we have come to mean by the term experience is
impoverished; what we have of experience in daily life is
impoverished as well.'”
Before
we get too far and you perhaps assume I am writing only about our
disconnect from nature, I am not. Another time maybe. This is more
about the disconnect I see and experience all around me. Our
experiences with nature, with everyday ordinary life and with people
often happen without any awareness. It seems to be getting less and
less personal; our senses and our hearts have been muted by
over-stimulation and with the artificial.
It
happens even in our churches. We can spend years within a church
body, appearing to create community, and not be connected – not
really knowing one another. As much as it surprised me that a native
southern Californian would not be familiar with trees blooming boldly
all over the city year after year, dropping delicately scented
blossoms upon the sidewalks like flower girls scattering petals in
preparation for the bride, many who look belong to a particular group
of people aren't personally connected. How can that be? Activities
announced fill the Sunday bulletin and spill out all over the days of
our lives in churches. But I have to ask: like the world of
technology creating impoverished versions of experiences with the
natural world, are we relying on impersonal experiences in our
churches to give the illusion we are connected as the body we are
meant to be?
In
The Jesus Way, Eugene Peterson writes, “Jesus is an
alternative to the dominant ways of the world, not a supplement to
them. We cannot use impersonal means to do or say a personal
thing—and the gospel is personal or it is nothing.” Peterson
challenges the Church to consider whether or not we are following
Jesus the Way and is He transforming the way we live and do church or
are we conformed to the way of the culture. We have to be intentional
on this battle front for it constantly seeps in around the door
frames of our churches and confuses our thinking. Bob Benson puts it
this way, “The influence of mass economy—standard operation
procedures, checklists, symbols, signs, style, slogans, contests, and
other activities—begin to lead the church subtly away from being a
place of substance.”
This
isn't a witch hunt to discover what groups are cloaked in the
cultural facade; the culture has left marks on all of us and it keeps
us from being personal. Oh, and if we get personal we might just
learn a thing or two about one another. This is certainly a scary
idea, so lets just go back to doing and not being with one another.
Sadly in my work as a counselor, I have bumped into a lot of lonely
Christians. Granted, I challenge them to consider the role they may
take in keeping themselves lonely, but there are times when even I
feel as if I am riding around in a bumper car version of
Christianity. We bump into one another at church or the hospital when
in crisis, we do the right things; all the while we have this big
padding of bubble wrap around us to keep from being vulnerable, to
keep from being personal. Relationships take a lot of energy and
sometimes they hurt and sometimes I think I don't really need all
this mess. But what about the Way—the way Jesus does relationships?
Being
a human means there isn't enough of me to go around; I can't be best
friends with everyone but I can be personal and show a genuine
interest in those who rub elbows with me in the church pew, in the
check-out line, on the bus or anywhere God gives me opportunity to
connect with another human being. Being connected means I make time
to get to know a few well and to bear each others' burdens and to
rejoice in each others' successes. Laura J. Boggess, author of
Playdates with God, says, “Research shows that the happiest
people are those who invest in experiences and relationships—not
status, not stuff.” Happiness isn't my goal, but the plan I have to
climb out of the safety of the bumper car and invest in relationships
the way Jesus did means I will experience more joy. I encourage to
get to know someone better and allow someone to know you better: get
connected. In the process you might start noticing the lavender
petals scattered about your feet.
