Aren’t kids so loveable and so annoying?
In the last year, lots of babies have popped up among my close friends and family.
For me, this is straightforwardly awesome. Kids are funny and cute, and I don’t have to deal with the more challenging aspects of caring for them.1
Perhaps the quintessential adorable-but-exhausting behaviour is the “Look! Look at me!” phase. To a child, reaching a new height on the swing might as well be winning an Olympic gold medal, and their joy at this miraculous event is incomplete until expressed (and met with a satisfactory reaction!).
As C.S. Lewis put it, “Nothing is so obvious in a child – not in a conceited child, but in a good child – as its great and undisguised pleasure in being praised.”2
As Lewis interrogated the prominent concept in the New Testament and early Christian writings of Christians receiving ‘glory’ along with salvation, he was shocked to find “such different Christians as [John] Milton, [Samuel?] Johnson, and Thomas Aquinas taking heavenly glory quite frankly in the sense of fame or good report. But not fame conferred by our fellow creatures – fame with God, approval…”3
This desire (to be ‘praised’ by God in a sense that acknowledges our inferiority) informs the words Christians long to hear: “Well done, good and faithful servant.”4
And it was this dynamic that I recognised in Luke 19 this morning: the story of Zacchaeus the tax collector.
Look!
Zacchaeus, a wealthy crook, wanted to see who Jesus was, but was too short to see over the crowd (relatable). So he ran ahead and climbed a sturdy tree.
When Jesus reached him, he looked up and said, “Zacchaeus, come down immediately. I must stay at your house today.”5 Our diminutive sell-out welcomed the Lord gladly.
While the crowds muttered about Jesus associating with ‘sinners’ (again!), Zacchaeus couldn’t contain himself: “Look, Lord! Here and now I give half of my possessions to the poor, and if I have cheated anybody out of anything, I will pay back four times the amount.”6
What would it be and feel like to relate to God on a deeply personal level?
Relating to God personally
A fundamental aspect of the Christian faith which has always stumped me a little is relating to God personally. To some extent, I think this results from more general psychological quirks on my part. But there’s also the additional challenge of relating to someone you can’t see, hear or touch (nor smell or taste, for that matter).
What would it actually be and feel like to relate to God on a deeply personal level? And how do we go about doing that? Here are some thoughts.
[I honestly haven’t read a C.S. Lewis book in years; he’s just such an interesting and relevant practical philosopher/theologian that his ideas return whenever I write something like this.]
That said, Lewis’ autobiographical reflections on ‘joy’ (by which he means something relatively specific) emphasise one of his most broadly-relevant insights, which is helpful here: thinking about relating to something/someone is very different to actually relating to something/someone.7
For example, if you listen to (or play) music with the conscious aim of experiencing and interacting with some aesthetic expression of the divine8 – like beauty, joy, harmony, etc. – then you are less likely to apprehend those things than if you lost yourself in the music itself, within which they might come to you. In short, genuine contact with reality can’t be manufactured.9
In the same way, relating to God personally is not primarily a matter of feeling like we are relating to him personally [what does it feel like to “relate personally” anyway?]; it is a matter of actually interacting with God in personal ways – things like attention, expression, vulnerability and love – making contact with God as a personal reality.
In fact, as a tri-personal reality. How can we relate to God personally? By relating to him as Heavenly Father, as Jesus Christ, son of God, and as the Holy Spirit.10
This is one reason that it makes me uncomfortable how interchangeably we sometimes refer to the persons of God. It’s weird to think of God the Son as relating to us in the same way as God the Father. Perhaps a key to relating to God personally is to keep in mind both the oneness of God’s character and the three-ness of his Godhead?11
There’s no such thing as relating to God personally in the abstract; only in practice.
Concrete, not abstract
This gets at my most concrete thought about relating to God personally.
Ultimately, ‘relating to someone personally’ is not actually a thing we do; it’s a theoretical description of the unifying pattern between countless things we do. You only ever relate to X person personally, and the way you relate to that person is inherently and appropriately informed by who the other person is and who you are.
[I prefaced that as a “concrete thought”, didn’t I? Sorry.]
It’s just like how the only way to appreciate music is to focus on the music itself, not whether your relationship to it is appreciative enough.
There’s no such thing as relating to God personally in the abstract; only in practice.12 So if we worry that our relationships with God don’t feel personal enough, the solution is to go, relate to God as the person he has revealed himself to be13, and as the person you are.14
Something as practical as paying back stolen money and giving to the poor was an expression of personal allegiance and obedience to Jesus.
Try this
So if you worry that your relationship with God doesn’t feel personal enough, the first step might be to pray through scripture attentively and vulnerably: relating to God as he reveals himself to be – discerning how he relates to you and the rest of his people, and relating to him as his obedient child in response.
In this context, Zacchaeus’ exclamation struck me as almost comically personal. Look, Lord! I’m being obedient! Something as practical as paying back stolen money and giving to the poor was an expression of personal allegiance and obedience to Jesus.
We ought to relate to God in the same way. Not in ritualistic duty, but personal obedience. Hi, Lord! Yes, Lord! Sorry, Lord. Thank you, Lord! You’re the best, Lord!
Look, Lord!
Then one day he will welcome us, “Well done, good and faithful servant.” And we will see him face to face.
If you like this, you’ll like:
Is this what following Jesus is meant to feel like?
How can I be more certain in my faith?
Blind faith: the residual damage of Dawkins and co.
Although, of course, I also don’t (yet) have the privilege of raising my own children, which seems pretty special.
This whole discussion (The Weight of Glory, pp. 36-39) is fascinating and insightful.
Ibid
Matthew 25:23 NIV
Luke 19:5 NIV
Luke 19:8 NIV (emphasis added)
Surprised by Joy
If you’re a materialist, then of course you’ll consider this merely an evolutionary advantage or something. I don’t mean to disparage that view, because I understand its appeal (although more socially than theoretically).
The question is whether there are good philosophical, historical and experiential reasons to believe in God (honestly it’s the third of these that I find most confounding; the first two are very strong cases).
And contact with reality is the essence of knowledge, if you take an epistemological stance like that of Esther Meek, which I find pretty compelling.
Is the Spirit a person in the same sense as the Father and the Son? I want to say yes … but also that the Spirit’s personality in expressed in different ways maybe? Reply/comment and let me know if you have thoughts.
I’m not a theologian, so let me know in the comments if any of this doesn’t sit right with you. I’d be keen to hear why.
J.I. Packer makes this point in the introduction to Knowing God. By “no such thing as”, I mean that the idea of relating to God is purely descriptive/theoretical; it’s the relating that is real.
Father, Saviour, Judge, Redeemer, Master, etc.
Adopted, saved, justified, redeemed into willing service, etc.