Speaking of Plague …

I’m of the mind that what most plagues us is not physical illness, although that can certainly be awful and debilitating but is, instead, a matter of our identity.

Of course, this is not a thing that is ever-present in our consciousness. In fact, it’s usually hidden beneath all sorts of layers. However, I’ll go out on a limb and say that the question of our identity is foundational to all else.

What better time to think about this than when we are hunkered down, wondering what in blazes is going on and what will eventually happen to our communities and broader civilization.

If much of my identity is wrapped up in the work I do, the job I hold in order to generate income, then for many of us, that’s changed. Yes, I may be fortunate enough to still have the job (either at my regular worksite or, remotely, from home) but a lot about that job has shifted. (In my own case, should I still be a high school principal, what does that mean when I can’t leave my house?)

If my identity is wrapped up in being a husband or wife, what does that look like when we no longer have space to be apart, to pursue separate interests outside the home? Or, if my identity is wrapped up in being a parent, what does that mean when all of my school-age children (even the adult ones home from college!) are in my space 24/7?

I’ve come to believe that one’s identity is defined by our perception of our purpose, our authentic reason for being. Now, that’s a loose conclusion drawn from basic psychology and philosophy. By “being,” I mean the real reason we’re here.

It should almost go without saying that the flippant answer would be, “Well, I’m here because I’m alive. I was brought into this world through a natural procreative act by my parents.” Of course. But, then, what else? Biologically, our “reason of being” is to stay alive through whatever means we use as well as to procreate in order to perpetuate the species. Then, perhaps (in a somewhat morbid sense) it’s to decompose so as to send the physical and chemical properties of our bodies back into the natural realm from whence they came in the first place.

But, returning to the job, spouse, and parent labels (among others), nearly all of us intuit or dwell upon other reasons for being alive. These are our priorities for how we organize our attentions and behaviors. And, our priorities are a reflection of our identity.

Many of the grand philosophical questions such as “Why are we here?” “What is my purpose?” “Does my life have meaning?” and the like aren’t normal dinner table conversation or even the cause for that much actual reflection. Nevertheless, I suspect nearly all of us try to answer these, one way or the other, even if we don’t consciously do so.

Which brings us back to the plague.

If the Christian story is true, whether or not you accept the full “orthodox” version or choose to pick some pieces to believe and others to disbelieve, the term “plague” as I’m using it here is the lie that we are alone and, ultimately, unloved and unforgiven.

Regardless of one’s brand of faith, it is true that we will be forgotten fairly quickly (in relative terms) after we die. Perhaps, we will be recalled with some fondness for a couple of generations by descendants but, following them, we will disappear into obscurity and our “meaning” along with it. Certainly, the love we’ve had for others (and them for us) will no longer exist. How discomforting is that?

The thing that plagues us is this belief that we exist for a brief time and our “purpose” is to master that time … to control it best we can in the hopes that we can avoid suffering as much as possible and pursue some form of happiness while alive.

If this self-imposed approach is false, then the disease that constricts us is truly debilitating.

For, the Christian story clearly presents a situation where we are actually eternal beings and that we are loved regardless of our failures and inadequacies. In this sense, we “belong” to a family that is designed to love, is infused with grace, and wherein we can freely choose to experience this forever. The lie says this is not true. The lie says live for the moment, get what you can and do your best to cheat the grave.

I spoke with a man last year who admitted (after awhile) that he did believe in God and could even accept that Jesus was some form of God incarnate. Following further prompting, he said he believes in an afterlife and is hopeful that his will be a good one. When I asked him if everyone gets to live in a good afterlife, he paused and decided, no. He could not conceive that a really bad and evil person would “get to” live in such a place. When I asked him if there are some sorts of rules that govern who gets to the end up in the desired place, he said yes, there are. When I asked him who or what actually determines the rules and the results, he said it’s God.

And, then came the clincher. When I asked him about the conditions, principles or “metric” by which God “judges” who is in and who is out, he said, “it’s whether or not you’re a good person.” When I asked him what defines “good” in this sense, he struggled and then added, “But, I hope that God will see me as basically a good person.”

I then asked him whether he believed God knows everything about us and he said, “yes, he’s God, so yes, he does.” I then asked, “Do you believe God knows every thought you’ve ever had?” He quickly saw where this was going and paused. I don’t remember his exact words but they were something to the effect of, “Oh, I think I’m in trouble.”

I know this man and I know that he tries to bring good into the world. He also admits that he can be unlikable and that he will need forgiveness when it’s time. Yet, he also says he cannot change who he is. He just hopes that it will work out in the end.

The thing that most saddened me about this exchange is his conclusion that he can’t change. He is who he is and that’s it. He’s open, philosophically, to the idea that there is a God and the potential for a good life after this one, but his perception of his own identity is reflective of neither. He perceives that there are supernatural “rules” that govern the reality from God’s point of view, but he misses the main point.

If we act like we’re alone in this life, save for some of the things I listed above that organize our lives, then we don’t see ourselves as actually “belonging” to God. This “belongingness” is the basis of our purpose. And this purpose defines our identity.

I’m of the belief that our purpose is to partner with God for the life of the world and I’m also of the belief (with good reason) that the byproduct of that partnership is that we get to know and love him.

And, through that loving interaction, we get to glimpse heaven while still on this side. The sickness, or thing that plagues us, is that we are not in a loving relationship with God and that we don’t need to trust him in all things, regardless of the outcome. Yes, we may suffer … even greatly. But, in the end, that suffering doesn’t even register on the radar against the ultimate reality that can await us. By admitting our frailty and asking for help, we get to participate in the cure that Jesus unleashed on the world when he walked out of the tomb.

That’s what we celebrate this Sunday.