Jordan Peterson, in his book, Maps of Meaning, says “the purpose of life as far as I can tell... is to find a mode of being that's so meaningful that the fact that life is suffering is no longer relevant.”
His conclusion is priceless. The only way a human can hope to find any kind of purpose in this life is to find a mode of being that is so meaningful, so powerful and real that it makes suffering irrelevant. Christians will exclaim, 'amen!', yet in reality most of them feel just as lost as everybody else when faced with pain and suffering. I believe that is because for most believers, Christianity is just a belief system or an emotional response. But a belief system can do nothing for you. Quote it until you're blue in the face, read all about it, write dissertations if you're so inclined, teach others about it, sing it until you lose your voice, but if you don't believe it to the point where it's your mode of being, you're wasting your time.
I understand that in their search for a purpose, people arrive at different conclusions and depending on their dedication to a code they adopt, they stand or fall with it. I honestly can't speak for anybody else, but I can speak for myself when I say that I did not find the right way of being, The Way has found me.
My story is simple. I was born in captivity. I didn't ask for it and there was no point denying it or rebel against it. Like the Jews that were born in captivity in Egypt. They didn't like it, they didn't want it, they were crying about the weight of their chains but didn't even know to whom they were crying. But The One that sees all things and hears all things, has heard their cry (Exodus 3:9). Like them I hated my chains. Like them I didn't know if anyone was listening, but I was sending S.O.S signals 'to whom it may concern'. Like the Jews in Egypt I only knew that I was a slave. Slave to my own thoughts, to my own feelings, to my own circumstances. The best of me was enslaved to the worst of me. I was a slave to my worst instincts and the most dysfunctional aspects in me. All that was good about me, my creativity, intelligence, courage, friendship, willingness to progress was enslaved by the worst of me. I hated it, I wished it away, I tried working it away too, but nothing happened. I was crying like Paul, 'Wretched man that I am! Who will set me free from the body of this death?' (Romans7:24). My 'Egyptian' masters were cruel. They were using me to build fortifications for them. The best in me was toiling for the worst in me. The best in me, that which was made in the image of God was used to build fortifications around the worst of me to protect it. I built monuments to that thing so that others might see it and say, 'wow, look at you!' In the beginning I received bricks for my work, but when I first heard of a possible redemption, my bricks were gone, and I was made to go fashion my own bricks. The labor became so hard that instead of hating my 'masters' I was hating this idea of a redemption that might or might not happen. I would have stayed a slave forever if not for my Redeemer going, almost against my will before 'Pharaoh' and demanding, 'let my daughter go!' The slave masters didn't listen, they were stubborn that way. No matter what my Redeemer used to get them to renounce their claim on me, they refused. So my Redeemer made Himself into a Way for my sake. Released me from my captivity almost against my will, without carrying much whether I truly understood what that freedom entailed. And The Way had to be through a place where no road could possibly exist. Instead of parting the Red Sea for me like He did with the Jews, He separated my light from my darkness and my sacred from my profane, and made me walk through the middle of it like of course this is a normal Way. In reality, I didn't know more about Him than the Jews that left Egypt knew about their Redeemer.
For someone to understand all the stages of my journey one would have to be familiar with the whole Torah (first 5 books of Moses). I have been through all their failures, all their rebellions, all their grumbling, all their wishing in vain, all their misreading the situation they were in, all their demands and their successes too. For the longest time my walk was just a set of rules. I mean I was always grateful for my freedom, but I didn't really know deep down in my heart what I was even doing. It didn't feel like I fit in with all the other redeemed people. It felt about as hard to learn the Christian 'language' as it is for an American to learn Arabic. I wasn't at peace at all. I felt like David trying on Saul's armor. (1 Samuel 17:38) I wanted to go back to whatever was familiar to me, back to the cucumbers in Egypt. (Numbers 11:5) In every little uprising I've had against The Lord, He killed something else that needed to be destroyed in me. Some things I killed with my own hand in a sudden zeal for His work in me. Needless to say He was ruthless in His dealing with everything that was sinful in me. I feared Him, I obeyed Him, I believed in Him, but I didn't love Him. At this point, feel free to feel better about yourself if your journey was more pious than mine.
Anyway, I didn't wander the desert for forty years, it only took me about ten years. During that time I really thought, 'this is it, this is all it's ever gonna be'. The thought was gut wrenching to me because my soul felt tormented. It felt like an obligation more than anything. I didn't want to go back to Egypt and by that time I was too involved in too many activities to be able to go back. So I made peace with it. It seemed fair, He had died for me, so I will spend the rest of my life dying for Him. Not out of love but because fair is fair. Absurd, I know, but bare with me.
Anyway, one day while I was reciting Shema Israel (Listen, oh Israel) I got to the part, “You shall love the LORD your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your might.” (Deuteronomy 6:5) My heart felt like it was breaking. I felt Him inside me asking, 'do you love Me?' I couldn't answer. I thought I might stay mute forever because nothing I might say ever again will have any meaning. I felt Him inside me neither angry nor disappointed. Just sad. I told Him, 'I don't know how to love You. I mean I know how to do things for You, I know how to stay faithful to the covenant, but I don't know how to love You. If there's a way where You could teach me how to love You, I am here. Teach me.' I was too young back then to know that apart from Him I could do nothing, not even love Him.
“He found him in a desert land, And in the howling waste of a wilderness; He encircled him, He cared for him, He guarded him as the pupil of His eye.” (Deuteronomy 32:10)
I was in that scary place, that desert land, in that howling waste of a wilderness... Yet there, where all He should have felt was offended by my running in circles, He encircled me. He cared for me. He guarded me as the pupil of His eye. By all accounts I should have died in that place. It would have been fair. But, “In all their distress, He too was afflicted, and the Angel of His Presence saved them. In His love and compassion He redeemed them; He lifted them up and carried them.” (Isaiah 63:9) He carries me still...
So no, I don't have a belief system that gives meaning to my life. I have a God that is more real to me than my own skin. I rise or break on His command. Why? Because now, when He asks me, 'do you love Me?' I can say like Peter, “Lord, You know all things; You know that I love You.” (John 21:17)
by Cristina Pop
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