I am growing weary of formal education. It seems the more time I spend in school, the more I simply realize how incredibly ignorant I am. I am Alice, perpetually falling into a never-ending pit of scholarship. And like Alice, I have given up on screaming and become entranced by the ceaselessness of the fall. I find myself hearing James admonish his hearers to "be not many teachers," and adding, "Or students!" with an exhausted agreement.
But let me clarify. It is not knowledge that exhausts me. Nor is it learning, in the strictest sense. It is the rigorous cycle of a revelation; it is the incessant revelation of my ignorance. And my ignorance haunts me like the ghost of a heinous crime. It creeps through the dark places in my mind, begging to be solved and unable to be understood. So, who do I call? Those Ghost Busters with suficient credentials to answer the questions that torment me: the learned men. It is precisely when they fire their proverbial photon rifle thingys that I realize my struggle is not intellectual.
It is a crisis of faith.
I have forgotten Jesus in my so-called "scholarly" and "religious" pursuits. In my heart, I have built a temple. It is my metaphysical place of religion. And in it, there are ways to make my faith "easy." There are tables where the answers are sold, even and especially the tricky ones. This is the table where cold analysis and strict syntax are on display. The man behind the table screaming, "OBJECTIVE or SUBJECTIVE GENITIVE? THE FAITHFULNESS OF CHRIST! FIVE DOLLARS!" And I run to him, throwing my money at him for the new answers, the exegetical shockers to pull from my hermeneutical bag of tricks. Another table is covered in devotional materials and prayer journals. The man here claims to be able to market and manage personal piety. Another booth is devoted to reconciling Christian faith and financial prosperity. My favorite table is the table where otherwise trivial good works are exchanged for potential suffering and self-sacrifice.
I need a wisdom from above, pure and liberating. Because I am afraid I have put too much faith in the tree of my Christian heritage and the mountain on which the temple of my heart rests.
Jesus, come and cleanse it.
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5 comments:
so Jesus is like Link from the Legend of Zelda and he has to clear the temples of all the bad stuff. I bet he doesn't even need a hookshot.
good post. drop out of school and run away. you know the rest.
aw. you missed my MxPx allusion regarding dropping out of school.
you must have got me in a brief moment of mature thinking. i apologize and vow to not let it happen so often.
Ah, the influence of Ecclesiastes.
All of this learning can be just so much vanity.
I pray for a touch from above to stop this insanity. To know Christ, and not just know more about Christ.
Now that was a little cliched, but I didn't really know how else to say it. my humble apology.
I think that that uneasy falling senstation is a lot more encourraging than feeling like you have all the answers. Whenever i feel like i have all the answers i go read Luke. Or Moltmann, man is that guy light years ahead of me. It sounds like you might have senioritis. You know the cure. Give a freshman a swirlie. Adam's brother is a freshman.
quit your job you've got a place to stay.
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