Lovebird

This little bird seeks to soar
up in the air, oh so!
But if she finds she cannot fly
amidst fierce winds and broken wings,
May brother branch not break beneath
but bend its strength to gently
catch her tumbling down.

A Blessed Blindness

I know I’ve finally entered my twenties, the season where people start getting married left and right.  My pile of wedding invitations has begun to grow at an unprecedented per annum rate.  Just over a month ago, I got to stand by one of my dearest friends as she entered into this adventure of marriage.  And this summer I’ll get to witness two more couples commit themselves to each other for the rest of their lives.

And I’ve never been happier for them.  Genuinely happy.  I’m excited for the ways that they will get to live out this beautiful picture of Christ and the church, learning to love and serve and forgive each other as Christ does for us.  I’m excited for the ways that God will deepen their understanding of Him and His love for them through their marriage.  And in the years to come, as they become parents, I’m excited for the ways that they will get to experience the delight the Father takes in us as His children, the pain He feels when we disobey, as well as the great love He showed us by giving up His only Son.

Marriage and parenthood open our eyes in unique ways to aspects of God’s love.  Just about every other sermon example comes out of the pastor’s experience as a husband or a father.  But for those who will never walk this path, there is an experiential ignorance, a kind of blindness.

If marriage is a way to see Christ’s love for His church, the unmarried are blind to it.  If parenting is a way to see the Father’s love for His children, the childless are blind to it.  They can only glimpse these things vicariously, through the secondhand experiences of others.  They will miss out on what some consider the most meaningful moments in life.  They will be forever blind to these parts of the relational spectrum.

But the blind grow in their sensitivities to the other senses.  I’m reminded of the blind superhero Daredevil, who fights crime using his four other senses which have been sharpened to superpower status.  Although Daredevil’s abilities are exaggerated, the phenomenon is scientifically valid, as the brain rewires itself to redirect processing power from vision to other senses, such as hearing, touch, and balance, which are necessary for them to navigate the world¹.  As a result, their senses of hearing, touch, balance, smell, and taste grow keener in the absence of sight.

In the same way, singleness, this “relational blindness,” is an opportunity to grow in our other relational capacities.  Partially for survival, as a defense against the raging tides of loneliness that ebb and flow, but also because within each of the other senses there is a depth that we often ignore when we rely on sight.  I believe that there is a depth to each of our other relational capacities—in our friendships, in our families, in our workplaces, in our churches, in our neighborhoods, and most importantly, in our relationship with God. These are distinct from the experiences of marriage and parenthood, but equally fulfilling, if we pursue them well.  The “blindness” of singleness encourages us to delve more fully and deeply into these relationships.

I think this is what the Apostle Paul speaks of when he writes to the Corinthian church:

I want you to be free from anxieties. The unmarried man is anxious about the things of the Lord, how to please the Lord.  But the married man is anxious about worldly things, how to please his wife,  and his interests are divided. And the unmarried or betrothed woman is anxious about the things of the Lord, how to be holy in body and spirit. But the married woman is anxious about worldly things, how to please her husband.  I say this for your own benefit, not to lay any restraint upon you, but to promote good order and to secure your undivided devotion to the Lord.
(1 Corinthians 7:32-35, ESV)

In the way that vision dominates our perception and causes us to pay less attention to the other senses, there is a degree to which the duties of marriage and parenthood occupy so much of the consciousness and distract from all other pursuits.  It’s not that married people can’t serve the Lord or pursue friendships.  However, they are concerned primarily with where God has placed them as spouses and parents, so the other duties and joys become secondary.  Single people, on the other hand, are untethered, free from these “anxieties” that Paul refers to.  They are free to care well for others and dive deep into friendships.  They have the grand privilege of lingering, no children or lover to hurry home to.  They are free to serve the Lord with their time and treasures, with no family to provide for.  And according to Paul, singleness is an opportunity to grow an undivided devotion to the Lord, open to whatever and wherever He calls, no reservations.  This is a blessing.

And yet singleness has its own struggles, but it is in these struggles that single people also get to experience God in a deeper way.  In the acute loneliness, they can cling ever more strongly to the sweet presence of Jesus.  As they face unmet longing, they live out a picture of the true longing of all people, a longing for the day all things are redeemed.  In the times they feel like they do not belong, they are reminded of the true status of all Christians, sojourners and exiles in the world, that their true belonging is to God.  If singleness is a blindness, it is one that binds us to the Lord and frees us to serve him.  It is a most blessed blindness.

I’ve come to realize that in both marriage and singleness there is a unique set of joys and struggles, and from each position we get a different vantage point for understanding the character of God and the nature of the Kingdom.  Christians live in a state of “already-not-yet,” a paradoxical liminality—as we have been given victory over sin, and yet continue to struggle with it daily; as we know God is always with us, and yet we long to see Him face to face; as we are reconciled to God, and yet we yearn for the perfect reconciliation of all things.  Married people live as a picture of the “already,” the union that we already have with Christ, while single people live as a picture of the “not yet,” the hope for the coming return of the King.  And I suppose that’s the beauty of the Church, built of single and married people living as two contrasting images, to remind one another constantly of the paradox we live.  We remind each other of the goodness of the gospel for today, and of the hope of the gospel for tomorrow.  This is the beauty of the body, built of a variety of members, of eyes and ears and noses and hands and feet—where some are strong where others are weak, where some can go where others can’t reach, where some are blind while others can see.  So that together as a body we may see the Lord, hear His voice, feel His nearness, taste His goodness, and smell the sweet aroma of Christ.

A Posture of Prayer

As a child in Sunday School, I was always taught to bow my head, close my eyes, and fold my hands for prayer.  As I’ve grown older, I have moved away from this rigidity, as I often pray in situations where closing my eyes would be disastrous, like walking…or driving.  And yet, I find that there was purpose in what I was first taught.  Often, intentionally posturing our bodies is a way to begin to posture our hearts, whether it’s opening our hands to receive the benediction or bowing our heads in prayer.

I first jotted this down on February 28 of this year.  It was a time that I had set aside to pray, but I found myself so very distracted by everything around me.  I had to still myself to even begin to pray.
And this is the prayer that came out of that time:

Lord, I close my eyes
for they are so quick to distract my heart,
as they look to riches, trinkets—
baubles of such little worth.

Lord, I plug my ears
for there are so many voices
shouting for my attention,
speaking half-truths,
and whispering lies.

Lord, I fold my hands
for they always twitch,
anxious to busy themselves—
in an endless grasping to earn
what you, my Father provide.

Lord, I bow my head
for I am so often proud,
looking down on my brother
and looking up to heaven
as if I deserved to be on the throne.

So Lord, I ask for you
to open my eyes to gaze upon your beauty,
incline my ears to hear your voice,
steady my hands to do your will,
renew my mind to know your rule,
and soften my heart to know your love.