I Hate The Jargon

I was talking with a friend tonight about the wonders of chalk talks. For those who didn't grow up in a North American evangelical Christian environment, I'll explain what that is:

Someone (usually either a single woman in her 50's or a man of indeterminate age with a beard - I'm not sure why) would set up an easel and talk as they would draw with pastels or with chalk (hence the name). They would tell a story, drawing, inevitably, a panoramic scene with a good supply of trees and mountains, a lake, an impossibly colorful sunset, and beams of light piercing the clouds. The story and the picture would ideally be very loosely linked, but the demands of the audience were generally not too strenuous in that regard.

As the talk drew to a climax, the artist (and I do use both of those terms loosely) would turn on a black light and - voila! - the picture would somehow be transformed into a picture of Jesus' face, complete with flowing blond locks, and the beams of light accentuating a cross on the hill. The story, whatever the original theme, would culminate in a happy and predictably pious ending.

"I hate the jargon," my friend said. "I hated it then, and I have even less tolerance for it now."

I agreed, but before we could discuss it further our paths parted. And it left me wondering... why do we hate it so much?

I have no doubt - absolutely none - that, likely without exception, the chalk talks that I heard were well-intentioned. The people that did them spent a lot of time to learn their craft and present a compelling show, though they would likely be mortified to hear it refereed to as such. I am certain they were paid poorly enough for it to be almost funny if it wasn't true. They gave them because they believed in them. So why do I hate it so much?

I love art. If I knew that someone was talking to children about art in a simple way that stirred their emotions and gave them the sense that it was something they could explore further and perhaps find great joy in, I would be more than happy to support them in their effort. So why is it different when someone is doing exactly the same thing with Christianity?

I think that it must be because, for me, the greatest danger in my life of faith is to be complacent with it: to accept mediocrity, to be content with giving a little, or even a lot, but not all. To be willing to be seriously injured to sin or self, but not to die to them. And I have experienced plenty of times when my emotions were stirred, when I was compelled by the easy story being told, but it was not enough to really change me. It was just enough to immunize me.

Why does she hate those easy answers? I didn't have time to ask, but I think I hate them because I know that there must be more.

I want a life of passion and honesty, a life where I can admit that my problems may be dark, and there may not be any sunset that can be flipped on with a hidden switch. But, more importantly, I want a life where I don't need that sunset to magically appear for me to have have real faith. And I want that faith to do more than sustain me - I want it to define me, to own me. I don't want a promise of an easy answer, because the answers I have found are not easy: they take everything I have to get them, they keep me awake at night, and they demand that I give up my pride, my rights, my dreams to attain them. That is the reality, and I am not afraid of it and won't back down in the face of it.