Even as a pastor, I'd be lying if I said I didn't wonder sometimes why we do this whole church thing. Yes, I know the part of the bible where Paul says to keep meeting together, and I hear that Jesus has a real thing for community. But that said, there are still times when I wonder if we aren't wasting our time, fooling ourselves, pleasing ourselves on Sunday mornings, or doing church in general. But then, I remembered that there is a purpose to this, a point.
The heart is fickle and the will is strong. It is hell-bent on control and on desiring and creating its own outcomes. It deems itself the only player on the stage, demanding that all others deliver their lines and perform their blocking so that the will reigns supreme. It wants to, at the end of any play, shove the other players off the stage and take the bow alone, hoping that the encore will be more of the same. More of its own personal show.
It makes for a boring and meaningless play - a boring and meaningless life.
To assume that I am always the star, the prima dona, to assume that it is always me who is right or me who is to have my will done in any situation is to deny the work of the Director, the Creative Creator who is in all things, pulling this whole thing together.
If there is any star in this metaphor, it is the person of Jesus and we are all his understudies. We watch and read the story, the narrative in the bible, to see how he interacts with all the other players (not just so we read the bible, but to be formed), never making them less important than he is, always making them shine brighter because he is near. We emulate him and memorize his lines because they are for us the words of life.
If we will study, if we will spend time with him, he will make us ready to take his place. He will not move far off, simply off stage but within ear shot, giving us nudges and cues when our words become trapped in our throats.
This is life as we are to know it, studied and full of love. We have watched this scene time and time again, seeing the grace of the master actor (though he is being and not putting on a show) poured out in each and every scene. We have watched him ad lib and riff with the rest of the cast, drawing them into his greatness.
When it is our turn, we turn to the director who nods and gives us that knowing look that he has done his part and he will offer guidance and help, but he has already shown us the star, the model, the one we are to emulate, the one under whom we have studied.
We will hear, from stage left, gentle words of encouragement from the star himself. He is out of sight but still engaged, longing for and willing our success.
And the moment comes, the lights dim, the curtain begins to rise. This is the moment where we must choose, will we innovate, try to do something new, let our will reign? Or will we let the old, old story play itself out through our body, our role, once more.
Some days, the will wins. And we find ourselves lost in the middle of the cast, the audience jeering, buffeted about because we are confused, shocked, dismayed, and frustrated that our play, our lives, our will is not working so well. It is boring and it is petulant. It is hurt by the boos it hears. Our fellow cast members betray us, our families (sitting right in the front row) don't give us the applause and adoration we think we deserve or need. We are lost, alone - a lonely and tragic figure on a crowded stage.
But then we remember that we've seen the star in this same scene on this same stage before. He stood right here. He was in this place. And so, we gather what courage we have left and in our meekest voices we utter one of his lines. We move to his blocking.
And the audience responds with applause.
Our fellow actors walk along with us.
We begin to act with more confidence, really losing ourselves into the role. We begin to realize that everyone on stage with us has the same director, the same star under which to study. What seemed like it would be an abysmal failure turns into rave reviews. We are enlivened by the part we play; in it we have found our true self.
As the last act draws to a close, we find ourselves should to shoulder with our brothers and sisters, our faces glowing with the sweat of our parts well played, our hearts full and spent at the same time, and we realize that this is what we were meant to do all along. This is how it was always supposed to be.
And we hope we remember this same feeling when the curtain rises tomorrow. But between now and then, we show up at rehearsal. Practicing our lines, and learning our part. Until the very core of our being is no longer ours and our will no longer wants the spotlight but simply is ready for the Director's will to be done in us.
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