The Day Metaphors Took Over...

I've come to an interesting place where I feel like I've lost the crossroad between theology and spirituality. I was talking to one of my mentors the other day about this and he offered me an interesting metaphor...

Living out your faith is a lot like driving a car. You can drive for 100,000 miles and still know nothing about the car that you drive. The only indicators you have that something is wrong are little red lights, which can easily be missed, and when the whole car dies due to neglect. When something goes wrong and you know nothing about your car, no matter how much you've driven, you're still ultimately at someone else's mercy. Being a student of theology is like learning to be a mechanic. You learn the ins-and-outs of the inner-workings of the car, and not only can you interpret the little red lights, but you can hear the varying sounds of the engine, you can not only sense when something isn't right, but you can diagnose and even correct the problem at times.... The problem is when you forget how to drive in the process of becoming a mechanic.

Another metaphor that has stuck out to me recently is this:

All bread, no water.

Simple, I know. But I feel like, while I've had no shortage of substance, of nuggets to chew on and think about, and the intellectual aspect of my faith is flourishing... There's still no refreshing stream of life. There's no fresh and revitalizing source of Life that is constantly flowing and always available to me. I'm beginning to understand the words that Jesus spoke in a new way, "Man cannot live on bread alone." We always make the distinction between physical bread and spiritual water... but what if the same is true for the distinction between spiritual bread and spiritual water? After going for a while without water, adding more bread will only make your mouth drier.

I don't want to leave this on a downer, because it's not. Every pastor I've talked to has said that going through the frustrations I am and asking the questions I'm asking is an essential part of becoming a pastor. It's encouraging, but sucks at the same time.

Lord, prepare me to be a sanctuary: pure and holy, tried and true.

What does it mean to be a sanctuary? A place of safety and refuge. The inmost and holiest part of the Church. What does it mean to ask God to prepare us to be that? I think I'll explore this a little later...