Today, I have a guest post from my brother Jeremy Floyd, offering a thoughtful reflection on the place where we stand in this confusing world of non-stop change.
This weekend I left town for a short trip, and during those quiet moments of in-betweenness I had time to try to process something that is probably one of the hardest issues of parenthood that I’ve encountered. My oldest daughter who is precious and innocent to me will turn 11 in a little over a month. With each passing day, she is shedding the scales of innocence of her youth, and I’m not ready to go through the labor of the loss of innocence. Not yet.
More than anything, I don’t want to say goodbye to that tender little girl that taught me as much about parenting as I have taught about life. Our children are tender and precious, and the last thing that we want to do is take away any part of that. While she is about to step into a torrent of fascination and intrigue, I hope that innocence can be gently exchanged for just enough experience to avoid naivety. Our experience tells us that the bell cannot be unrung; the seen cannot be unseen; and the hurt can’t be stopped, but my hopes are likely futile.
As a culture, the last twelve years have felt tumultuous, painful, and downright scary. The innocence of our society has been ripped from our minds and replaced with images of fear and terror. While we preach resolve and resiliency, our eyes have witnessed horror that cannot be unseen. Our hearts have experienced suffering for those that we likely don’t know, yet we mourn for them as they are our own. There is no way to preserve our own innocence.
Preserving innocence in an exposed world creates absurd results:
- Take the military policy of “Don’t ask. Don’t tell.” This policy suggested that homosexuality was not condoned by the military, yet one could be a homosexual as long as they were secretive about it, which essentially was no change in the previous policy other than a few legal caveats.
- Or if one is truly innocent and childlike in an exposed world they look like a clown. When I joked with my daughter that I wanted her to stay in fifth grade forever, she said, “Dad, I would be like ELF.” She was specifically talking about how disproportionate it is for an adult to sit at a child’s desk, but the analogy fit well. Will Farrell’s character was entirely innocent in an exposed world, and as a result he looked like a buffoon.
We face the same conundrum that I face with my daughter, I do not want her to be naive in this world because I do not want her to be hurt, yet I don’t want her to experience this world because I don’t want her to hurt. Our longing is for another place where we can believe and not be chided. In literature, we would call this Utopia or Nowhere, but there is a natural longing for a place where the paradox of innocence and exposure may coexist without the being absurd, naive or skeptical.
If we were to plot this out on an axis, we would have innocence and exposure on one axis and skepticism and naivety on the other. In this life, we move towards exposure and skepticism is a natural byproduct. If we do not move towards exposure then we move towards naivety.
So, as I am pondering these thoughts this morning, I read the following verse: “So Jesus said to the Jews who had believed in him, ‘If you abide in my word, you are truly my disciples, and you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.’” John 8:31, 32 Jesus is the living paradox of innocence and experience. The polarity of innocence was broken on the cross, and his crucifixion provided a pathway to live both in the world with the innocence of faith and the experience of life.
A few years ago Doug taught about ERH’s symbolic and actual use of the cross. The cross is significant historically, culturally, politically and socially. It is the pivot point of the universe, and it is the reconciliation of paradox. At the center of the cross is Jesus–Son of man, Spirit of God and God the Father– who died and lived eternally, was sinless yet died for sin, was man yet God and was innocent yet had all of the knowledge of the universe. At the center of the cross was inexplicable paradox.
How would you logically answer this equation 1 + 1 = 3? “1” must not equal 1 or “3” must equal 2 or some information that is outside the equation must come to bear. In other words, there must be a truth greater than our conventional understanding of mathematics. As a side note, what if I said that 1 = 1 and 1+1=10 see Deut. 32:30. In the trinity is a great variable that is greater than our logic and deeper than our understanding. Looking back to the John verse, abiding in truth may be the answer to my conundrum about my daughter and about our country.
So essentially what I’m saying is that faith in God is the only way to preserve my little girl as she steps into the brave new world, and faith is the only way to witness terrorist tragedies and go about our lives with the genuine belief that life is good, secure and predictable. This, however, is just another absurd result.
Faith in an unseen God is absurd. Faith is illogical, yet logic was the second crucifixion. Faith is a leap into an unknown abyss where our map and compass are promises. Faith is the unknown variable to life–not a utopian life of heaven, but to this life. Faith is the bridge that intersects innocence, experience, skepticism and naivety. Faith is the most absurd step worth taking.
* Image of cross by Zonie_Zambonie on flickr (Used via Creative Commons permission)
April 18, 2013 at 6:05 pm
Thanks, Jeremy, for this moving meditation. I was especially moved by the following line:
“Our longing is for another place where we can believe and not be chided. In literature, we would call this Utopia or Nowhere, but there is a natural longing for a place where the paradox of innocence and exposure may coexist without the being absurd, naive or skeptical.”
It reminded me of Hebrews 11, the quintessential chapter on faith, and particularly verses 13-16:
13 All these people were still living by faith when they died. They did not receive the things promised; they only saw them and welcomed them from a distance. And they admitted that they were aliens and strangers on earth. 14 People who say such things show that they are looking for a country of their own. 15 If they had been thinking of the country they had left, they would have had opportunity to return. 16 Instead, they were longing for a better country—a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared a city for them.
“. . . he has prepared a city for them.” What gives me hope is that this longing that you mention, and that we all share, is not merely subjective. It is not merely nostalgia for the innocence we’ve lost. Rather it rises in us because this “city” is a real place whose actuality bears upon our subjectivities with the hope of its promise. Just thought I’d pass that along to you.
April 20, 2013 at 1:50 pm
Yes the future concerns us all especially for our youth. Only with faith, trust that our Lord is at always at our side, and exhibiting love to one another with hopes that kinship is restored in this new arena of "be on your guard". Prayers must include our concerns that peace and love be restored to all within everyone's home and family, neighborhoods, cities and worldwide.