“Jesus draw me close, closer Lord to you. Let the world around me fade away.” Anyone who attended at least one revival service is familiar with the song “Jesus Draw Me Close”. As one of my friends put it, it seemed as if it was the theme song for revival, as it was sung many times each service. There is no doubt that many did not mind. I couldn’t help but look around as we all sang it together. I found myself observing others singing it both in chapel and during the night services. This is perhaps not the best way to worship, but the emotion I saw the song conjure was amazing to me.
What particularly amazed me was the emphasis it seemed was placed on the words “let the world around me fade away”. My eyes were drawn to those around me as they sang those words. Hands began to rise and tears began to fall. It was as if most could relate deeply with the desire to escape this world--to let it all “fade away”.
I suppose that I should not be so surprised by the response most people had to those lyrics. The Bible itself seems to be filled with individuals lamenting their position in existence from time to time, in some cases even wishing it would hurry up and be over. The song is also in the tradition of many other Christian hymns that express the same desire: “Turn Your Eyes Upon Jesus (…and the things of the world will grow strangely dim)” and “I’ll Fly away” both come to mind.
I can relate with such passion to escape. I have times in my life when I too lament the troubles in life that are difficult to reconcile. I read the news, packed with stories such as the famine taking place in Zambia, Zimbabwe and Mozambique, talks of an invasion into Iraq, increasing Palestinian and Israeli bloodshed and I find myself in agreement with U2’s Bono when he says, “It’s hard to believe, hard to be a believer, when you see the way the things are in the world.” And when it becomes too difficult to keep my eyes on a broken world and my faith in a seemingly illusive God, the reasonable reaction is to become frozen and focus all my hope on the “next life”.
The question is, are these messages of escapism a correct Christian eschatology? In the previously mentioned songs it seems the progression of Christian understanding is as follows: We desire to be close to God, we then move closer to God, the world in turn becomes more “dim” or “fades away” and we are therefore worshipping and obeying God. Is that what scripture teaches us?
Before I go on, I realize that perhaps my question results from an over analytical romantic looking too deeply at an occurrence not meant to be scrutinized so intensely. This is always a possibility. However, it is disconcerting when I connect the messages of those songs with the rest of Christian pop culture. What motivates the millions of purchases of Left Behind? Or perhaps popular Christian songs, such as Dove album of the year nominee FFH (“Far From Home”) with their new hit song flooding the ONU airwaves “Fly Away” in which they declare “O how I long for the day When we fly away”, reveal our thoughts and desires. It is then that I see a deeper problem flowing underneath the surface. It seems that as a group, we Christians really like the idea of escaping.
An escapist theology has many detrimental effects. It can be said that how we view God, and therefore the end times, has a direct effect on how we view the earth and each other now. An escapist view tends to de-emphasize the community, or universal call of redemption in favor of a driving desire to remain pure long enough to secure one’s place in an eternal paradise. Escapism also tends to view the world as an inherently evil place, which is merely awaiting its inevitable fate of destruction. In effect, the institutions of the world are usually likewise dubbed evil, or secular. From this vantage point, Christians are in a unique position to begin to dichotomize much of the world’s institutions. The main division that arises is that between “sacred” and “secular”.
We now, whether we realize consciously or not, have created a situation where Christian social action is in a very peculiar place. It is difficult to understand why 1st century Christians were so intent on doing good things. Why were they so adamant about helping the poor, the widow and the helpless? Why, if the world would someday be destroyed, was emphasis placed on helping? What place does such social interaction have in the Christian faith? Perhaps it is a ploy used to attract people into the church with the hope that through our actions they will want to serve God. Definitely this has something to do with it, but does this offer us the whole story? Maybe good acts are undertaken because deep down we believe that one-day they will be broadcast internationally on the largest wide-screen imaginable.
Whether admitted openly or not, I believe that such an understanding leaves many Christians numb. Is there no hope for the here and now? Many times all we see is a frightening apocalypse in the future, and meaningless action now. After all isn’t it like one of my professors once explained, “What’s the use of organizing the chairs on the Titanic?” Ultimately, we are frozen.
When Christians separate the world from themselves they are attempting the impossible. This of course is the failed modernist attempt at becoming an objective, ahistorical observer. We wish to be a spectator who remains pure and untainted, doing our time here on Earth. Christian historian Mark A. Noll dubs this separatist view as a form of Manichaenism wherein we feel that we are able to discern between the “light” and the “dark”, the sacred and the secular. The problem is that most of life’s influential arenas are placed within the category of “secular”. Instead of keeping the Christian influence pure, it just isolates it.
One area in particular that has felt the effects of this fragmented theology is education. What part does education play in the Christian life? Any? I have found that how one views God may have a profound affect on how they approach education. The business of education is of course the business of knowing. Therefore, we must decide what it is “to know”. Author and professor, Dr. Steve Garber explains that in the ancient Hebrew worldview to know meant to be responsible for, which meant to care for. Therefore learning should evoke a sense of responsibility. In this view we find learning has a great affect on social action—it in fact precedes it.
I have had many conversations with well meaning Christian Olivet students who explain to me their intentions for higher education. “Let’s be honest, the reason we are going through this and paying all this money is to get a good job with a good income”, is a comment I often hear. Usually the understanding is that college is a hoop that one must jump through in order to reach a higher social standing or to obtain some monetary goal. It reminds me of University of Toronto’s Chaplain Brian Walsh when he quoted author Wendell Berry stating “The only major I see offered in American universities is upward mobility.”
Such an understanding is not necessarily in conflict with an eschatology of destruction. In fact the two can actually work in concert. When there is no understanding of a universal call or movement we are free to develop our own individual motivations. Isn’t that what the American dream is all about? I am still haunted by the words of author and professor Jeffery Pugh who warns us in his book The Matrix of Faith that without a proper orientation or understanding of community the question “What would Jesus do sounds suspiciously like what would a middle class participant in capitalist society do?”
I once learned under the insightful professor named Steve Garber. He said that learning can become sacramental. What did he mean by that? I believe he meant that through learning we can open our eyes more and more to the process of redemption. That in fact such a process of learning can point to and give evidence of something higher than ourselves. We can actually make our learning a pursuit of God. This type of learning can demonstrate God’s faithfulness to and love of his people, as well as his desire for redemption.
In this way we no longer wish the world would “grow dimmer”, nor do we want it to “fade away”. Instead we find new meaning in our every interaction with the earth and humanity. Every occurrence gives sign to the redemption of God’s Kingdom. We can thank God every minute of the day. The process now becomes: we attempt to be faithful to God’s initiation, the world becomes a little more clear, more alive and beautiful. And it is here that we truly begin to “worship and obey” as we attempt to be faithful to God’s unfolding story.
The pain does not go away, the sorrow is still strong as ever. There are still many questions without answers, and the tendency to shut our eyes is still apparent. The difference is that we now have a new orientation and a story that guides us. The question Dr. Garber asks is, “is your telos sufficient to guide a meaningful praxis?” In other words, is the story that guides your life, the way that you look at the end, at God and at humanity, sufficient to allow you to sustain your hope throughout the trials of life? Does it give you a way to view pain and suffering that allows you to meaningfully work through such hard times? Does it at least set you on a path that allows you to search out such meaning?
