Losing the Taste for Spectacle

When I was a young wife and not yet a mother, I went on a women's retreat with my church. And it was an AMAZING weekend! Every worship service connected me with God. He spoke to me through every speaker. I kept a journal of his words to me, and they were deep and profound and desperately needed at that moment -- and I referred back to them often over the next few years.

I went back the next year (and the next, I think) in great anticipation, expecting a similar experience. And yeah, it was fine . . . but it wasn't the same. I found myself trying to read into things I was hearing, looking for big messages from God for me. But they weren't there. It was disappointing all around.

I thought of that retreat recently when I was listening to a podcast where Skye Jethani was talking about "Spectacle vs. Subtlety." 

Specifically, he was referring to Jesus' raising of Lazarus and how it was clearly set up to intentionally be a spectacle. He waited until Lazarus had been dead for four days to show up. He prayed out loud so the crowd could hear him. And yes, there was a crowd -- he did this outside where the whole world could see.

This was very different than other miracles he did. In particular, when he raised Jairus' daughter from the dead, there were only a handful of people present in a small room, and he specifically told them to keep this to themselves. 

Skye's point here is that, while God definitely uses spectacle (think David and Goliath or Elijah and the prophets of Baal), it has a specific purpose. It arouses strong feelings in observers: often fear . . . sometimes respect . . . frequently anger (which was the result of raising Lazarus). Sometimes God wants to grab our attention in big ways, and he is quite capable of doing so.

But what spectacle does not generally create in the hearts of spectators is love. Love comes from subtle actions. Small, consistent gestures. Presence. Attention. 

A mother may put on a big circus of a birthday party for her child (and many do). But generally, that's not what makes a child love her or feel loved. It's the everyday little things. Meals cooked, clothes washed, booboos kissed, stories listened to, jokes told, troubles shared.

And it's the same with God. I have lost patience with the megachurch world that feels the need to put on a show -- a spectacle -- every Sunday. They are training their congregants to look for God in the spectacle. In the emotion. In the big moments that wow them. And yes, God can be found there . . . but I don't think that's his weekly M.O. And if we continue to look for him only in that context, we start faking things.

God's desire is friendship, not fear. Relationship, not just respect. So, God's primary way with us is subtlety, not spectacle. I'm not waiting to meet God in a yearly retreat anymore. I'm visiting with him every morning in bed before I get up. I'm laughing with him over little jokes throughout the day. I'm thanking him for my comfy love seat every evening.

I remember hearing once about Mother Teresa's spiritual journey. She apparently had a mountaintop moment with God very early in life, which was what inspired her ministry in India. But she never had that kind of experience again . . . and she looked for it, longed for it. Nevertheless, she still loved God and continued to serve him. She often commented on seeing God's face in the faces of the needy she served. That's where she experienced him for the remainder of her life. 

Father, make it so. Honestly, I don't think I even trust the spectacle anymore. Give me your daily presence.