So, it’s almost Christmas {obviously}. If you’re my sister Katie in Uganda, it actually might be Christmas already. I’ve been wanting to post on this for a while, but I let finishing my grad school classes stand as my excuse…really I think I’ve been sorting through my thoughts on this idea. I first had to think a lot about the “incarnation” over this summer after I got home from Wheaton in the Holy Lands and had to read five books for the program, one of which was early church father Athanasius of Alexandria’s On the Incarnation. Having grown up in the church {in every possible imaginging of what that means…Sunday School, private Christian school, Christian summer camp…you get the picture}, I’ve always heard a lot about the “incarnation,” or the fact that Jesus came to earth and was born as a human to save us from our sins. However, in the past six months, I’ve been thinking about it in new ways, understanding what Jesus’ incarnation actually implies for my own life.
In October, I devoured a book for my Teaching for Transformation class, and I can’t be sure of its long-term impact yet, but in the past couple months, it’s given me new energy, purpose, and encouragement in my pursuit of serving Him. It’s called Visions of Vocation by Steven Garber, and my friend Tony gave me the book back in March, but I didn’t get around to reading it until 7 months later. However, when I started reading, I kept thinking, “I know exactly why Tony gave this to me and knew I needed to read it.”
Throughout the book, Garber asks the question, “Knowing what we know, what will we do?” emphasizing the truth that awareness of an issue or of the problems in this world calls for responsibility and care to do something about what we see and know. There are so many good quotations and sections I could quote here, but I want to focus on the section that has hit me the most and which, on Christmas Eve, is also the most timely.
If you know me or have read my book, you probably know that I tend toward the cynical side of life, despite my love and heart for encouragement. It’s confusing, and I was telling my small group leader, “I hate people; but really, I love people,” and she somehow understood exactly what I meant. {sidenote: I do not actually hate you…keep reading.} In one of his chapters, Garber addresses cynicism in a way that is convicting and compelling. He writes,
“Over time human beings have, more often than not, responded to the dynamic relationship of knowledge and responsibility in one of two ways, each one being fully understandable if there had been no incarnation. Both offer a way to know that allow us to keep our eyes open , seeing things as they ‘really’ are, but not requiring that we get so close that we are hurt by what we know. We have called these responses stoicism and cynicism.”
Here’s the thing: I know being cynical is not so great, that it’s less than what I’m called to. That is clear and I always feel convicted by my cynicism, and other writers make me feel guilty about that. Yet, when I read Garber’s words, I felt convicted, but not “guilty convicted;” instead, I felt convicted and compelled to do more. What I love so much about Garber’s words is that he somewhat gives validity to the inclinations we might feel to pull back and be cynical or put on a stoic front. In light of the problems of this world, honestly those are probably adequate responses, or what Garber says are “fully understandable.”
However–and this is a big however–in light of the fact that Jesus knew what He knew and still chose to enter into our mess in this world by becoming a baby in the incarnation, we are called to much more. In short, if we are called to be like Christ, then we are also called to enter in, to act based on the example Jesus showed us by knowing and still somehow loving the world rather than acting based on our cynical or stoical inclinations.
I’m not sure if that shift makes any sense or impact on you, but it did on me. So often I feel bad for even having cynical tendencies, and yet, I feel like Garber validated my pull toward cynicism while encouraging me that I am called to much more. The issue isn’t so much that I feel cynical when I see the problems of this world or am let down by people and tempted to disengage; the issue is that I continue choosing to enter in, knowing what I know and still loving and doing something about it. A few pages later, Garber goes on about cynicism and stoicism:
“This is not a screed against stoicism. Again, if there has not been an incarnation, a moment in human history when God shows that we can know and still love, then stoicism seems a very good answer to a very hard question: Knowing the hurt of life, what are you going to do?
If there has not been an incarnation–if God Himself did not choose to enter in, knowing how sinful we are and what would happen at Calvary–then stoicism and cynicism, bracing self against knowing and having to care, are probably okay answers. However, as this time of year reminds us in so many different ways, the Son did choose to know and still love, to enter into our mess. Thus, I, too, am called to know and still love, to continue entering in even when I don’t see any results in return.”
Garber adds, “The incarnation is not a call to life in rose gardens, somehow closing our eyes to the terrors of this very wounded world.” I love that, too, because this shift in me has not meant that I’m suddenly seeing things through rose-colored glasses.
My tendency with my cynicism is to self-preservation, as I often think, “I’m done. I don’t have to keep caring about or pouring into x. I can focus on me alone and come out unscathed.” I feel the pull to disengage, but since reading this book and seeing the truth of my cynicism in light of the incarnation, my self-talk has changed. A few times since October, when things have been frustrating and I’m tempted to just worry about the things on my plate instead of trying to pour into others, I’ve shifted what I’ve said from, “I’m done. I don’t have to keep caring about or pouring into x, and yet, in light of the incarnation and the fact that Jesus entered in, I’m choosing to still enter in.”
Garber writes that “amazing grace” is really the fact that “God knows ‘the worst about us’ and for love’s sake refuses to be disillusioned about us.”
I wanted to share this because it has profoundly impacted me–my heart for people, my passion for pouring into people, and my conviction that I am called to continue choosing to enter in. In light of the fact that tomorrow is Christmas and Christmas is a celebration of the incarnation, I figured this might be a timely encouragement. The incarnation is more than a nice picture or theme for a carol we sing; the incarnation calls us to action, to love, to enter in for the glory of God. In light of the incarnation and the fact that Jesus came down to enter into our world and lives, we are called to also enter in. And the best part is, we don’t have to do it alone; the Spirit in us, our “Helper,” gives us what we need to continue entering in, to know and still love the world.
May you have a wonderful Christmas, and in light of the incarnation, may you continue choosing to know and still love for Him.
On Christ the solid Rock I stand,
Hannah