The Gift of Friendship

“In friendship...we think we have chosen our peers. In reality a few years' difference in the dates of our births, a few more miles between certain houses, the choice of one university instead of another...the accident of a topic being raised or not raised at a first meeting--any of these chances might have kept us apart. But, for a Christian, there are, strictly speaking no chances. A secret master of ceremonies has been at work. Christ, who said to the disciples, "Ye have not chosen me, but I have chosen you," can truly say to every group of Christian friends, "Ye have not chosen one another but I have chosen you for one another." The friendship is not a reward for our discriminating and good taste in finding one another out. It is the instrument by which God reveals to each of us the beauties of others.” 

                                                                                     C.S. Lewis, The Four Loves

The God of More Chances

Those of you who know my husband and me know that we are eagerly awaiting a new family member: an Australian Labradoodle puppy, expected to come home in the middle of June.  It was a long winter around here.  We lost our Standard Poodle prematurely, and the grey winter months often seemed to reflect my emotional state.  It was very, very hard to say good-bye to an extraordinary pet.  It was also difficult to acknowledge that while Daisy was truly extraordinary, she was also a considerable challenge.  Adopted by us at fourteen months, she came with a boatload of insecurities and bad habits.  Our best efforts at rehabilitation brought unremarkable results.  Thus the appeal of a puppy—we get another chance at raising a dog who will be an integral member of the family and a gracious hostess to guests.  Or, as my husband puts it, “Now we won’t have anyone to blame but ourselves.”

Do you remember the childhood practice of “do-overs?”  If something didn’t go quite right, or there was a disagreement over play protocol, a do-over was in order.  A do-over was a simple strategy to get something right.  But less simple is the powerful truth that underlies the do-over: second chances reflect who God is—His love and mercy, and His desire for our wholeness. 

God is a God of second chances; and third, and fourth…. When the Apostle Peter asked Jesus how many times he was supposed to forgive an offending brother and offered a generous proposal of seven times (Matthew 18:21), Jesus responded with His “seventy times seven” answer (Matthew 18:22).  Since we are sinners in a sinful world, we will need forgiveness, over and over.  As we walk in faith, we will be given the opportunity to forgive others, over and over. 

In my counseling ministry, I often suggest a do-over strategy for adults: the “instant un-replay.”  In our interactions with one another, we will invariably experience conflict born out of the sin and selfishness of ourselves and others.  Such conflicts, while unpleasant, offer us an opportunity to experience spiritual redemption and relational healing and growth.  Rather than running down an “I’m right/you’re wrong” track, we can ask for an instant un-replay.  We can humble ourselves and try again (and perhaps again) to communicate and receive communication in a way that promotes God’s work in us and through us.  Of course, an apology, when appropriate, is a great way to initiate an instant un-replay.

Receiving God’s extra chances and offering extra chances to others are powerful ways to experience and share the nature of God and reflect His redemptive work.  It also builds deep, trusting, intimate relationships that are deeply satisfying.  I, for one, need many chances, and I would be delighted to offer you the same.

Inside Out

One of the reasons I love fiction so much is that it can help me capture important truths in a memorable way that permanently changes my mind, heart, and perspective.  One of my favorite books is The Last Battle, by C.S. Lewis.  Many of you are familiar with this last book of the Narnia series, especially since the first three books of the series have been put on film. 

At the end of The Last Battle, friends of Narnia find themselves in a losing battle against their Calormene enemies.  Eventually they are thrown into a small, dark stable, presumably to be consumed by the Calormene god, Tash.  These characters are surprised to find themselves in an entirely new place, full of sunlight and fresh air.  They are met in this new place by old characters from other Narnia books—Digory and Polly, Peter, Edmund, and Lucy.  As they try to understand what has happened, they realize that the stable door through which they were thrown was not an end but a beginning. 

Tirian, the last King of Narnia, observes, “It seems, then, that the stable seen from within and the stable seen from without are two different places.”

Tirian is answered with this comment: “Yes, its inside is bigger than its outside.”

It is Lucy’s comment that is the most significant: “In our world too, a stable once had something inside it that was bigger than the whole world.”

It took an episode from the Dr. Who series to help me realize that this concept applies to people:  In the Dr. Who episode, a character asks the Doctor: “Is everyone like you, bigger on the inside than on the outside?”

Unfortunately, I believe the answer is, “No.”  The “size” of our “insides” depends on what is going on inside.  If we go about our days focused on ourselves and intent on earning or proving our worth and/or righteousness, our insides will shrink.  Likewise, if we choose the path of bitterness, if we make ourselves feel better at the expense of others, or if we excuse our bad attitude and behavior, we will become an empty shell of a person.

On the other hand, if we go about our days focused on our Lord and intent on following, pleasing, and glorifying Him, our insides will expand.  Likewise, if we practice forgiveness, encourage others for who they are in Christ, and humbly confess and repent when we are confronted by our sin, we will become like the stable—much bigger on the inside than on the outside.  May it be so.

A Spiritual Lesson From Dr. Who

I am not by nature a fan of science fiction, but I love C.S. Lewis’s science fiction trilogy, and over the last several months I have come to appreciate the British science fiction television series, Dr. Who.  The current BBC production is a revival of the original series from the last century.  The plots are usually far-fetched, and the filming is decidedly low-tech.  The Doctor travels freely (and often randomly) in time and space in a ship that looks on the outside like a British police call box.  What the show lacks in sophistication, however, it offers in food for thought.

In one episode, The Dalek, the Doctor encounters a member of the evil Dalek race, held captive by an uber-wealthy collector of unusual beings. The Daleks are a robot-like warrior species, with no emotions, and dedicated to the destruction of all other creatures.  The Doctor’s initial reaction to this face-to-face encounter is to attempt to kill the robot-like Dalek.  He is prevented from doing so by the collector, who does not want to lose his prized specimen.  In the drama that follows, the Dalek gets free and starts to hunt and kill everyone on the premises.  Most of the Dalek’s “prey” find their way to a protected safe room, but the Doctor’s side-kick, Rose, is not so fortunate.  Rose finds herself on the wrong side of the door, facing the Dalek and certain death.  But then the unexpected happens.  The Dalek has somehow absorbed a portion of Rose’s compassionate humanity.  It doesn’t kill her, and in the end, it destroys itself rather than continuing to kill. 

In another episode, A Town Called Mercy, the Doctor finds himself in an old “wild west” town in Texas that is being besieged by an alien bent on exacting well-deserved revenge on an alien war criminal who has taken refuge in the town and is seeking to atone for his past.  The Doctor’s initial enthusiasm for seeing vigilante justice executed against the war criminal becomes tempered by the resident marshal’s commitment to mercy.  As the plot unfolds, the viewer sees the larger picture of right and wrong, justice and forgiveness. The townspeople choose to act according to mercy; the targeted alien faces the wrongs of his past and destroys himself to save the town.  The revenge-seeking alien is then left without a mission until the Doctor suggests a new calling; the alien remains at his post just outside the town, not to kill but to protect.

It seems to me that both of these secular television episodes have an important reminder for us: even in the most unlikely of circumstances, with the most unlikely of people, God gives us the opportunity to influence others in very subtle ways.  We are God’s salt and light in this world, and we have the glorious privilege of offering others a quiet taste of heaven simply in the way we treat them and conduct our lives.  And just like the characters in Dr. Who, we can change the course of history.  As a matter of fact, as we partake in the nature of Christ and reflect Him, we cannot help but proclaim the Kingdom of God.  May we encourage one another to do so faithfully and joyfully.