Hey, Cobblestone,
My first meaningful lesson in the
difference between static electricity and working electricity came in the
auditorium of Lincoln Elementary School sometime during the 1968-69 school
year. As auditoriums go it was a modest space, but during the preceding summer
it had seen a refurbishing, including – what?! – carpet. As students in a blue
collar, lower middle class district in the ‘60’s, I’d dare say a few of us had ever stood on carpet. We were shocked to find it in the old schoolhouse –
“shocked” being the operative word. We had been assembled to get a better
handle on the meaning of “Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious,” a fairly new
word in the American vernacular at the time, and after that exercise in
futility, lined up to go back to our classrooms. The revelation began to
spread: shuffle/shuffle-snap-OW-giggle…
shuffle/shuffle-snap-OW-giggle. Like second-grade Benjamin Franklins, we
had discovered static electricity – and the aggravation it could cause.
If any group of people on the planet
needs to have a workable, sustainable, and accurate definition of community,
that group would be the church of Jesus Christ. The rest of the world is
clutching at straws, inventing and de-inventing definitions all willy-nilly,
settling for whatever fits the moment and becoming unsettled in the moment
immediately after. In the past few “Hey, Cobblestone” letters I’ve done what I
can, the Lord helping me, to offer a path to a good definition. I’ve posited
that the members of an abiding community will be committed to truth – a truth
that precedes the community, and, best case, has been true for all people in
all times. I’ve proposed that accountability is the working out of the members’
commitment to the truth – a willingness to have expectations put on us, and
frequent checking to make sure those expectations are reasonable as measured by
the truth we’re committed to. This week I’m writing about a community’s
environment, the atmosphere and landscape around – and within – a given
community.
One of my favorite authors, a farmer
in Eastern Kentucky who turns 88 years old today, has a cautionary statement
for the way the word “environment” is typically used. Superficially,
environment is considered to be the air, soil, water, flora and fauna of a
certain area. On closer examination, the environment is not only what people
are in, but also what’s in the people. Residents of Brookville, Indiana don’t
drink the same water as residents of Gary, Indiana – same state, different
water – aside from sharing a molecular composition there are many things they
don’t share. In either case, though, the water – and whatever’s in the water –
is in the residents. Contemporary definitions of community will focus on the
external circumstances, while abiding community pays close attention to what’s
on the inside because of what’s on the outside.
We’ve been looking at the exchange of
letters between the apostle Paul and the Corinthian church as a study in
community. I hope you’re finding it as fascinating as I have. In our Bible
reading plan we’re several chapters now into Second Corinthians, which was the
fifth of five letters in the exchange. Because those letters are so thoroughly
intertwined and come as a package, I hope you don’t mind me bouncing around in
them, using various pieces of text to reinforce the main concepts.
When Paul was absent from the
Corinthian believers – he lived on another continent for three years while the
letters walked back and forth – he had trouble staying in community with them.
And the one painful visit (2Corinthians
2:1) he made was sort of a hit-and-run… it didn’t go well. One thing I’m
especially glad for is, as present-day believers, we get to see not just an
apostle wagging a bony finger at those under his charge, but also the sanctification
of the apostle himself. Committed to the same truth, they were all subject to
the same truth, and would have to figure out how to be in community somehow.
Given the tension and awkwardness
between apostle and church, it may seem strange that Paul so often expresses
love and affection for his brothers and sisters in Corinth. Then again, have we
ever said to anyone, “I love you, but you make me crazy”? Yeah, something like
that. But this is precisely where I hope to make the point – the next thing the
Lord would have us learn about community is…
Community requires affection, and
affection requires a recipient.
The expression of affection is not
enough – it has to do something, and
it has to do something for someone. Affection
without a recipient is like static electricity, all those twenty-ninth
electrons dressed up and nowhere to go. By contrast, affection given a
recipient is like working electricity: power with a purpose. The static
electricity we built up in the Lincoln School auditorium had its recipients,
sure enough, but it only produced aggravation. (For the record: any glee
produced by the giving of static charge was instantly cancelled when the giver became
the getter. The earlobe, by the way, seemed to be the most effective arc point.
Don’t ask me how I know.)
In the midst of his difficulties in landing his own affection, the Lord gave
Paul eyes to see the same difficulties in the Corinthian Christians. Stepping
back into the role of apostle, without stepping out of his role as one who was
also being conformed to the image of
(God’s) Son (Romans 8:29), he wrote:
Working together with (God), then, we appeal to you not to
receive the grace of God in vain… We have spoken freely to
you, Corinthians; our heart is wide open. You are not restricted
by us, but you are restricted in your own affections. In return (I
speak as to children) widen your hearts also (2Corinthians 6:1, 11-13).
To whom or to what were the
Corinthians to widen their hearts? To the notion of affection, the general idea
thereof? Not hardly. No, Paul was prodding them to begin making affection the
environment of their community – the soil and substance they were in, and was
in them. And the legitimacy of his prodding is borne out by the actual history
and geography of his circumstances at the moment: by the time he wrote Second
Corinthians, he was on his way back to Corinth to get some face time. It’s been
said that “long distance is the next best thing to being there,” but then as
now, it’s a distant second indeed.
How remiss would I be if this letter
closed without offering practical points on landing affection? There are more
points than I could possibly list, and frankly, I’m learning more almost daily,
so I’ll simply suggest a prayer: “Father, who have you chosen to receive my
affection today?” Be attentive to his leading in the who, and the how will
present itself momentarily. If you’re ever going to be in community with those,
affection will be your meeting ground.
In the interest of full disclosure, I
have to describe some of the effects of affection – they’re not all peaches and
cream. If we commit to affection among us, it’ll mess with our doctrine; it’ll
mess with our politics; and I guarantee it’ll mess with our idea of what’s
orderly. It’ll open our eyes to motives and stories, for better and for worse.
Affection will make our hearts hurt about as often as it makes them glad…
…and I have no idea how true
community can be built without it.
Grace and Peace (from the Father’s
targeted affection),
John
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