Kingdom Harbor

One of the essential human needs is to have a sense of purpose; the desire to be a part of something larger than themselves; to play an important role and have a long-term impact in some arena of life.  The human spirit cries out against the modern, secular narrative that belittles human existence to the product of naturalistic processes or merely the result of random chance.

This longing for purpose and meaning—the chance to play an important role, to be a something bigger, and to achieve something of lasting importance—is satisfied as one begins to see the grand epic story of God driving all of world history, being written by a purposeful Creator God, and being acted by human characters both aware and unaware of the story of which they are all a part.

Yet, these very longings for adventure, risk, and meaning are often denied or stifled by the sneering skepticism and staunch rationalism of modernity.  As Stanley Hauerwas asserts, “As a society of unbelief, Western culture is devoid of a sense of journey, of adventure, because it lacks belief in much more than the cultivation of an ever-shrinking horizon of self-preservation and self-expression.”[1]

Such a shallow view of human existence—an existence concerned solely with ‘self-preservation’ and tragically detached from a larger controlling story of a creator God with a creative purpose for the world—leads ultimately to a day-to-day existence where the only thing meaningful is the seizing of each fleeting moment.

C. S. Lewis describes how the vibrancy of life is often smothered as one becomes victim to the monotony of this humdrum, day-to-day existence.  He argues that the way to avoid this pitfall and keep the story alive is to keep oneself moving towards a desired goal.  Lack of movement births lack of purpose, and a lack of purpose yields a lack of motivation:

In real life, as in a story, something must happen.  That is just the trouble.  We grasp at a state and find only a succession of events in which the state is never quite embodied.  The grand idea of finding Atlantis which stirs us in the first chapter of the adventure story is apt to be frittered away in mere excitement when the journey has once been begun.  But so, in real life, the idea of adventure fades when the day-to-day details begin to happen.[2]

Lewis mentions the importance of preserving “the grand idea of finding Atlantis which stirs us” at the beginning of our journey.  As we lose sight of the goal and purpose, we lose heart and drive.  When we lose sight of the goal, our feet stop in their tracks, and we wander off, confused and in circles.

The Christian life should be a continuous effort to stay afoot, always marching forward in ‘triumphal procession’ ‘toward the goal’, to ‘attain the prize’, and discover and explore the beauty and splendor of Atlantis—life in God.  For Hauerwas, too, movement seems to play an integral part of the Christian life.  As he puts it, “When we are baptized, we (like the first disciples) jump on a moving train.”[3]

And so Abraham leaves everything to follow the Voice; Moses runs away from Egypt in fear and 40 years later is sent back with a word from God; the fishermen drop their nets and hit the road following after Jesus; and Paul is struck down blind, given an assignment and then spends the rest of his life traversing the entire Roman empire multiple times on foot. Life in obedience to God is a life on the move.

These observations provide a key starting point for the call to discipleship.  We are back at the challenge mentioned earlier—how to ravish others with a vision of life in Christ.  We can conclude, then, that the particular vision we give them must at least include a glimpse at the “grand idea” of following Christ and becoming like him.  And one trap to be avoided is being ensnared by the choking grip of a day-to-day, routine Christian walk, devoid of any passion or adventure, purpose or direction.  More to come…

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^[1] Stanley Hauerwas and William H. Willimon, Resident Aliens: A Provocative Christian Assessment of Culture and Ministry for People Who Know That Something Is Wrong (Abingdon Press: Nashville, 1989), 49.

^[2] C. S. Lewis, “On Stories,” In Of Other Worlds: Essays and Stories, ed. Walter Hooper (Harcout, Brace & World: New York, 1966), 20.

^[3] Hauerwas and Willimon, 52.