Work, Rest, and Manatees

It's incredible how quickly one reverts to a child when you come home.

Today, when my mother woke me up at 10:00 am to do yard work and clean the house before our relatives arrived for my graduation, I was mildly peeved. When I was a child, I would usually respond internally with a "you can't make me!" And as an adult, I responded internally with, "I am autonomous adult with the freedom to decide what ends I will pursue!" More or less the same thing, with just a few more big words thrown in.

And while I was working, I put on a podcast from Door of Hope, which happened to be on work. I hate how conviction works that way. The podcast reminded and rebuked me of two things.

First, I am not the center of the universe, and life is not about me. If I am a Christ-follower, my life is not my own and I should not be asking what should I do so that I am fulfilled, but rather what would Christ have me do that I might bring him glory. It's humbling, but what I needed to hear.

Secondly, a quote from the podcast really caught my attention: "What if Christ does not fill the empty cup we bring to him, but rather smashes it pieces, bringing freedom not from our darkness and dissatisfaction, but freedom from our felt need to escape it?"

Ouch.

I think this problem stems from a problematic understanding of what if means to be a Christian, and what it means to enter into rest, as the author of Hebrews considers in chapter 4. When I hear the phrase , "enter into my rest," I think of Jesus' call "Come to me all you who are heavy-burdened and I will give you rest." Most of the time, that's associated with our pain, struggles, and frustrations in life. And Christ, as the Good Shepherd and Prince of Peace, does bring freedom from that sin in our lives that causes such pain. But he does not do it because it makes us happy; he does it because it is good (I want to go on a tangent here, but I think it'll be better as another blog post later).

Sometimes, I think we view the Christian life like a medieval painting of a saint or an Orthodox icon- where they're super thin, have an expressionless face, doing that weird, two-finger "peace thing," and literally glowing with golden holiness. They're completely clean, untroubled, and static. And, if we did the Christian life well enough, we would transcend all the suffering, pain, and misery of human existence. We would go into some sort of zen-state that distances us from the evils of the world and "just be."

That's the spiritual equivalent of a manatee. Jesus did not make us to be manatees.

Life is difficult and hard, but that is good. And until we recognize that our work and striving is supposed to be challenging, sometimes painful, and often confusing, we can't enter into true rest and true peace. Paradoxically, you can't be a "zen-saint" by trying to be a zen-saint; you can't achieve happiness and fulfillment by seeking it. You see, when I'm at home, I just want to play video games, sleep, and eat good food that I don't have to pay for.  Yet relaxing only satisfies in the context of work. There's a good satisfaction after you've just gone on a good run, or put in a good day's work, or accomplished a major assignment. Work, and rough, unpleasant work at that, is a necessary part of the fulfilled Christian life- the Sabbath only makes sense in context of a week of work.

Entering into rest is not about seeking stasis and the things we want, it's about seeking the things that are good (again, to be expounded upon in a later post) and finding, nay, being surprised by the happiness and peace. If I ever hear the Father say to me, "Well done, good and faithful servant," it will not be on the basis of me having believed the Gospel, having grandiose theological reflections, or praising him with beautiful worship. It will be on the basis of me working, not earning anything, but responding in my life when I do not want to obey Christ by obeying him nonetheless. It will be on the basis of serving, not when I think it's fulfilling, but when it is seemingly to my detriment. It will be on the basis of my surrendered life expressing the Gospel proclamation that Christ is King of all.

The Kingdom of God is advancing forcefully, and violent men attack it (Matthew 11:12). There are no  manatees in the Kingdom of God. Our peace and rest comes not from stasis or distance from the world, but from Christ working in us and through us.