Wearily, I played along that afternoon, bantering back
and forth with my friend. Pahamo had come
into town from the village of Nakuka and this was the first time I had seen him
in weeks. He was keeping the conversation
light, but I knew there was more we needed to address - we needed to talk about
the darkness. A few days earlier, I had found
out that he had misused money entrusted to him, gone on a drinking binge and
now was in trouble with people from his village. So, changing the tone, I pushed him to tell
me what really was happening.
Our mission living here in Mozambique is to disciple
people - to help them grow as followers of Jesus. That vision is fleshed out into plans and
goals to see a church planting movement grow. Unfortunately, though, when one's
goals are wrapped up in the life transformation of other people there
can be a real temptation to close our eyes to what's really happening, adopting
a 'don't ask, don't tell' approach. But
while that way of working makes it easier to keep to a schedule, it doesn't
contribute to the well-being of Christ's disciples.
Let's say there's someone that I've known for a long time
and they've wrestled with a sin problem in the past. It's tempting for me to think: "Man, if
they are struggling with that again, I'd almost rather not know because then I
would really have to do something about it."
That temptation comes from the old idea that 'ignorance
is bliss.'
The reality, though, is that ignorance severely limits
our ability to bless.
As painful as it is, we must help others look into their
souls/into their lives and deal with the brokenness. Otherwise we are not really
giving them much help at all. We're just giving them a cosmetic makeover, but not dealing
with the illness that may be lurking under the skin.
We're just putting a fresh coat of paint on the Titanic.
We're just spritzing some Febreze in a losing effort to
freshen up a tomb.
It's nearly impossible to point out stars during the
daytime. We must go with our disciples
into the dark places of their hearts and point towards the bright morning star. We have to sit with disciples through the cold,
long night and show them how those pinpoints of light can help them navigate
their way home.
Ursula Le Guin's book, The Tombs of Atuan, is the
second in her Earthsea cycle. It tells
the story of Tenar, a young woman groomed since childhood to serve as a
priestess for a temple that sits on top of an underground labyrinth. She spends her time learning the dark passage
ways until one day she traps a wizard in these tombs. Through conversations with him, though, she eventually
realizing that she is the one who is really lost. At one point she shares her own doubts about
the Dark Powers she serves, leading to the following exchange:
"Did you truly think them
dead? You know better in your heart.
They do not die. They are dark
and undying, and they hate the light: the brief, bright light of our mortality. They are immortal, but they are not
gods. They never were. They are not worth the worship of any human
soul."
She listened, her eyes heavy,
her gaze fixed on the flickering lantern.
"What have they ever given
you, Tenar?"
"Nothing," she
whispered.
"They have nothing to
give. They have no power of making. All their power is to darken and
destroy. They cannot leave this place;
they are this place; and it should be
left to them. They should not be denied
nor forgotten, but neither should they be worshiped. The Earth is beautiful, and bright, and
kindly, but that is not all. The Earth
is also terrible, and dark, and cruel.
The rabbit shrieks dying in the green meadows. The mountains clench their great hands full
of hidden fire. There are sharks in the
sea, and there is cruelty in men's eyes. And where men worship these things and abase
themselves before them, there evil breeds; there places are made in the world
where darkness gathers, places given over wholly to the Ones whom we call
Nameless, the ancient and holy Powers of the Earth before the Light, the powers
of the dark, of ruin, of madness... I think they drove your priestess Kossil
mad a long time ago; I think she has prowled these caverns as she prowls the
labyrinth of her own self, and now she cannot see the daylight anymore. She tells you that the Nameless Ones are
dead; only a lost soul, lost to truth, could believe that. They exist.
But they are not your Masters.
They never were. You are free, Tenar. You were taught to be a slave, but you have
broken free." (Tombs of Atuan, p. 129-130)
I love this conversation because it reveals so much about
how easily deceived and distracted we can be.
It got me thinking about good principles and practices for
discerning how to help disciples address their darkness. So at the risk of oversimplification, I'll
offer a few directions here:
Be both patient and pushy - If the goal is discipling people into Christian
maturity then we need to realize that real transformation takes time. That being said, if we don't deal ever get
around to dealing with the dark, then we're effectively encouraging people to
be dishonest about their own lives with themselves and with the church. Drawing the line between pushy and patient
takes practice and seems to be more of an art than a science.
Speak directly about what is true and what is a lie - Through the
rest of Le Guin's book, the heroine struggles to live in her new identity. Her friend must remind her often of what is
real and true. "Listen, Tenar. Heed me.
You were the vessel of evil. The
evil is poured out. It is done. It is buried in its own tomb. You were never made for cruelty and darkness;
you were made to hold light, as a lamp burning holds and gives its light. I found the lamp unlit; I won't leave it on
some desert island like a thing found and cast away." (Tombs of Atuan,
p. 178). A foundational task in
discipling others is to remind them of their true identity in Christ.
Be vulnerable - Partway through our conversation, I told Pahamo a personal
story of dealing with my own darkness and the pain involved in finding a way
out. Sharing that seemed to bring some
hope and it definitely gave us a deeper connection. It both leveled and put us on the same playing
field. In the Earthsea series, Le Guin's
first book tells us of how Ged had to literally deals with his own darkness and
only then is he able to lead Tenar out of the labyrinth in the second.
Speak also of the light - This may be most difficult for those with
a prophetic bent, but having a one-track mind (i.e. focusing only on the
problem) can be wearisome to both the discipler and the disciple. If every conversation between you two is focused
on addressing the darkness, I'm guessing that the relationship will probably
not last long - the disciple will grow fatigued and go elsewhere.
Pray with them - This should go without saying, but it is somehow easy
to forget in practice (believe me!). We
are not the source of light and do much good by calling for the brightness to
shine in the dark. Praying with and
praying for those we are discipling is essential.
May God give us the courage and skill to grapple with the
darkness in our own lives and in the lives of those we seek to bless.
Grace and Peace,
Alan
(Photo by Brian Oliver)
