Tuesday, August 16, 2011

What I am Reading...

I'm currently reading a book by Larry Crabb called Connecting. I've read a little bit of Crabb's work in the past and always found it worthwhile, but Connecting is a quite brilliant book. It's the first book I've read in a while where I disagree somewhat strongly with some of the details, whilst also being absolutely convinced and enthralled by both the premise of the book and also by huge chunks of the text that he writes.

His central argument is that we tend to respond to brokeness in ourselves and others by one of two methods - either by moralising; a 'try harder' mentality or by delegating to a professional counselling class who believe that a cure can be found by exploring and understanding the darkest recesses of our soul. Instead he suggests that the real problem is being disconnected from one another and, ultimately, from God. The solution, therefore, lies in a process of re-connecting rather than anything else. People are made whole, not by trying harder or by undergoing counselling, but rather by, essentially, having someone love them into unleashing the potential for good that exists in every redeemed heart.

It's an interesting book, not least because Crabb himself is a counsellor and is thus qualified to comment on the value of his profession. It's also intriguing for me, as I have had what I would term a life-changing, beneficial experience of counselling. However, on reflecting on that experience, I now believe that the immense value of my counselling relationship was not in the counselling, but rather in the relationship. For me, my counseller was someone through whom I experienced healing because he connected with me much like the way that Crabb describes. Indeed, after I had finally finished my sessions (and had 'SANE' stamped on my record), I remained in touch with him as a friend and a brother. The relationship transcended the professional, and I believe that is consistent with what Crabb is writing.

In conclusion, I'll copy out one of the aforementioned chunks of text that struck me. I love Crabb's passion, imagery and forceful writing here. Plus, I agree wholeheartedly with what he is arguing. In this passage he is talking about our struggle with the flesh, our old nature, and it gives a good feel for how the whole book reads:

The flesh, the enemy within, dons a friendly uniform, one that a Christian might wear, and suggests reasonable directions. We welcome him into our ranks. When he causes trouble, we try to whip him into shape, get him to cooperate with the program, and stop interfering with our efforts to do things right. Or we work hard to figure him out. What makes him tick? Why does he demand gratification that way? Maybe a journey into the past will uncover the source of these crazy tendencies and enable us to reason more effectively with him.

What we need to do, of course, is shoot him. Naive Christians, the kind who want to freely release the goodness within them and trust their hearts to lead them aright, do not want to enter the battle raging in their souls. They have no appetite for identifying and destroying the enemy. Spiritual warfare, they hope, will involve only light skirmishes, never a fight-till-someone-dies conflict.

Obsessive Christians on the other hand, spend more time studying the enemy than fighting him. Specialists in understanding sin can describe how every hurtful experience from your childhood has impacted you, how you've dissociated, self-hated and idolized false gods, all in the service of running from God. Obsessives listen carefully and take notes.

For them, understanding their insides becomes a never-ending pursuit, energized by the hope that gaining insight into the dynamics of the flesh will somehow weaken its power, or give them better control over it.

Thoughtfully aware Christians, however, neither naive or obsessed, know that the enemy must be identified and identified carefully. The disguise must be ripped away, the horror of the enemy's ugliness and the pain he creates must be seen, not to understand the ugliness, not to endlessly study the pain, but to shoot the enemy.

And if he doesn't stay dead, we must shoot him again, then beat him, then tie him down in the sand under a hot desert sun, turn loose an army of red ants on his body and walk away without sympathy. And then we must do it again and again and again, till we're home. An overdone metaphor? Not when we see the enemy for who he is, for what he wants to do. We are at war, the enemy within is the flesh, and he wants to ruin our relationships and thwart God's plan.

If we don't hate the enemy, we'll hate something or someone else. The mother will hate her disrespectful son or herself or her divorced husband or God - until she identifies the real enemy.

2 comments:

Terry Wright said...

It's been a few years since I read Connecting. I agreed with it in principle, but couldn't see how it would work in practice. Many churches don't allow the depth of relationship that Crabb requires.

James and Ruth Webb said...

I haven't finished reading it yet, but I think you might be right. It's a lot more plausible in an environment like the one I currently inhabit.