Gates
It's been a while since I've written. Looking back through the entries from our time in Brazil brought some sadness about what is missing since we left that life behind. At the same time there are feelings of joy over where we have been brought to through the past five years. We're in the midst of more transitions, which never seem to end for us, but we're handling these well together as a family, pursuing Jesus and opening ourselves up to opportunities for growth and continued renewal. With these transitions come new experiences, relationships, friendships, and encounters that can stretch, challenge, refresh, and energize us. I (Steve), hate change, I typically run from it, and I typically struggle. This is perhaps the first period of transition that I can honestly say I'm thriving in, through the midst of some major transitions. It hasn't been easy, it's been quite painful and uncomfortable. However, I've been surrounded and supported by an amazing community and feel empowered to embrace these transitions fearlessly.
I'm writing this today, because I need to reflect, but also as an offering to this very same community. In 2 Corinthians 4:8-9 Paul describes those of us who are but clay jars full of treasure as being "hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down but not destroyed." I'm surrounded by amazing people attempting to serve Jesus and their fellow women and men and it feels like we're getting consistently lambasted.
Like so many of the deep truths inherent in the universe, paradox seems to be central to what we need to be overcomers. One thing that has stuck with our family since our trainings and life in Brazil is a nightly discussion of "yay" ducks and "yuck" ducks or the "pair-of-ducks (paradox)" of life. Each day we honor the best parts of our day and the saddest parts of our day and share them with each other. Both victories and disappointments; mountains and mole hills; bring rich context and experience to our lives that can be treasured, valued, and redeemed. We don't attempt to only talk about "yay" ducks, or try to bring solutions to the "yuck" ducks, but we simply embrace the good and the bad and know that we are heard and validated in the sharing with each other.
In paradox, we find the place of divine tension, where seeming contradictions and opposites can be recognized as whole and unbroken truth that can confound even the wisest of humans. Was Jesus true God or true man? Yes. Is the Bible a living God-breathed source of inspiration or a collection of writings at the hands of frail and broken humans? Yes. Is the church a gathering of sinners or a congregation of saints? Yes. Are humans made in the image of God, holy, sacred, and worthy of dignity by that fact or fallen trainwrecks capable of great and horrible acts of destruction? Yes. Is God sovereign, in control, and all-powerful or is he present with those who suffer through the tragedies and horrors that often seem both preventable and unspeakable? Yes. Do we want justice or mercy?
The Paradox of the Gates
I remember as a young child, doubting the existence of God, but taking very seriously the reality of evil and suffering. It was a theme in my life, no paradox, but certainty of doom and despair. One of the greatest aspects of Good News when I began chasing after Jesus came from encountering Matthew 16:18 where Jesus tells Peter that he is the rock upon whom the church will be built and . . . "all the powers of hell will not conquer it."
I felt so safe, for the first time in my life. I was aligned with Someone who could protect me from the powers of hell. I rested in that. It wasn't long after that I came across another version of that verse that repeated . . . "and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it." I again took this to heart with great relief. That I found a place, the church, where I could sit protected and at peace. But that phrase "gates of hell" left me uneasy. The attitude in the church that I attended was a common one with a strong theme of pilgrimage and alien residency, of not belonging or being welcome in the world. The world was a place that could stain us, corrupt us, be hostile towards us, a place from which we needed protection. Yet, the more deeply I pursued relationships and engaged in the community of the church, the more aware I became that it was not a perfect sanctuary, but had the capacity to stain, corrupt, wound, and be hostile in and of itself.
This was a devastating fact that I faced and seemed to shatter my hopes. I'd go back to Matthew 16:18 and try to hold onto that verse but it seemed to slip from me. I began to look at different versions and noticed there seemed to be two ways of reading it. Perhaps there is a biblical languages scholar that could set me straight, as to whether one strain is more correct than the other, but for now I hold out hope that this is simply another paradox to hold to.
Gates don't move. They don't advance. They aren't weapons. They aren't used to assault or attack. They are defensive pieces, and in the context in which it was originally written, the entire source of a city's power. The weakest point of attack, and a direct expression of how strong or weak a location was. If the gates held, the city was strong, if they could be breached, it was vulnerable.
Jesus was the sacrificial lamb, God's lamb, the prince of peace, a man who wept. Surely he would need a strong city to defend him, a city that could withstand the powers of hell or Hades. However, He is also Redeemer, Mighty Conqueror, the One who came to set captives free. The one who would kick down the very gates of hell; who would call others in His name to do likewise.
For many years, especially as I embraced this perspective into a growing conception of our mission in and to this world, to confront injustice and brokenness, to set captives free; I rejected my former understanding. However, I've come to realize over the past few years that there is a strong theme of sanctuary, of rest, of restoration, of peace that is central to our hopes. This has given me a renewed vision for the struggle of life, the struggle of authentically following Jesus, to embrace seasons, or even moments of sanctuary, but also to paradoxically be ready to thrust my foot outward to beat against the gates of hell when it comes time for captives to be set free. To embrace participation and community and offer intimacy, connection, and healing, while preparing to move outward to shake the foundations of hell's defenses.
Where Paradox Ends
As I'm learning to rest in this place of paradox, as a citizen of a Kingdom where protection and peace are offered in abundance and without fail, who also has nothing to fear as he steps outside of the sanctuary to join in an assault on the gates of hell itself; what gives me the most comfort is knowing that in some ways the paradox is nearing its end. Perhaps there is no real paradox in the first place, but simply a lack of sight and understanding that will dissipate on that day that we know and are fully known.
What gives me strength is the knowledge that this is not a true contest. The outcome is assured. It doesn't make the blood-letting, wounds, or cries of pain in this present day any less raw or challenging to face. But every tear will be wiped away. Captives will be set free. We will know and be known. Internally, interpersonally, communally . . . God's shalom, His peace and wholeness will reign! So be it.
