Through Divine Chaos Comes Life

God is a God of order, and chaos is the enemy. It’s often taught in churches. The primary referent often used is the beginning of Genesis, where God is seen as overcoming the power of chaos by stepping in and establishing boundaries. The stories are those that portray an ancient culture trying to find stability in life amidst the uncontrollable power of nature. The boundaries are divine, and the antagonist is thusly controlled. And so it is, by the ordering power of God, that the darker side of creation (namely chaos) is subject to the enlightening structure of the Word.

I’m not fond of that theology. When I look at life, I see the divine in both order and chaos. In my mind, order is the power of stability and meaning. We talk about tradition as that which anchors us. We talk about our “stories” as those things which give us our identities. There is a solidification that comes with order. Sometimes that’s good. Sometimes we need a certain amount of grounding. But sometimes it’s bad. Order gone awry leads to a status quo of oppression, exclusivism, rigidity, and ultimately a form of “death.”

I find it difficult to choke down this “God is a God of order” theology in part because it grates against my own personality. I have a chaos symbol tattooed on my arm for a reason. I tend toward the random. As an artist, the stories and images alive inside me constantly press to emerge, even if the world around me isn’t reflected so much in them. I like moving beyond the boundaries that I’m told exist, for past the established limits I find wild adventure. Perhaps it is “normal” for someone like myself to scoff at this notion of “order=divine.”

But I also dislike said theology because I find it overturned by the primary texts of my faith. When God called Moses to turn the world of the Hebrews upside down (rightside up?), was that really an act of order? When the prophets protested the abuses of “religious” society, can those acts really be attributed to maintaining order? When Jesus proclaimed that might, wealth, and prestige do not make right within his context, did that support the order of the day? No, quite the contrary. In these narratives, God calls and sends agents to inject chaos into the white-washed system. Whereas the power of order is stability and meaning, the power of chaos is that of creativity, liberation, and vision. Chaos is equally divine.

Hopefully, this isn’t confused with an assertion that chaos is necessarily divine and order is inherently the enemy. That’s not my point. There’s a reason that yelling “fire” in a crowded theatre is a bad thing. People getting trampled to death classifies well into the “bad” category. Yet, I would argue that there is a time and place for doing just that, for example when there actually is a fire in a crowded theatre. After all, people going up in smoke because they were ignorant of immanent destruction is also “bad.” So, order and chaos each have their time and place. And they both serve that greater purpose, which is more appropriately labeled divine: life.

There is a struggle today regarding the “meaning” of “traditional” Christianity. Church buildings, whether massive cathedrals or small country churches, are arguably the most important symbols of the religion. (And I’m not talking theologically here; I’m talking realistically.) Christians gather in these buildings, worship in these buildings, celebrate significant events in these buildings…and many see these buildings as something to be avoided lest one actually become identified with what they symbolize. Year after year, Christians pour resources into the upkeep of their buildings because of their importance. And year after year, fewer Christians arrive and more Christians depart, never to darken the doorsteps again.

The church is on fire. At what point should something be said in a very loud voice?

Currently, I am leading a small group who’ve identified themselves as “Eclectic Mass.” We’re a “spiritual” rather than a “Christian” community. Yet, most of those involved identify primarily as “Christian.” Interestingly enough, when I talked about forming a progressive Christian community, they were quite hesitant. They really want no part of anything traditionally Christian. They want to purse a Christian vision and spirituality, but they refuse to do so within the context of a “church.” Last night, I spoke with a couple of friends who live 14 hours away for the first time in about two years. It turns out that they had stumbled into doing the same kind of thing. I mentioned that it was amazingly easy to build a spiritual community for such fringe dwellers whose numbers are ever increasing. And they agreed, as long as it isn’t connected with a church. Why, pray tell, is it so easy to gather people in a spiritual community that is led by Christians when it is so hard for the Church to maintain its membership, let alone grow?

I would argue that “Christian order” has gone awry. Of course, this is not in all cases, but it is a safe generalization. Dissatisfaction grows in the pews, as “Christian” norms and belief structures just aren’t relevant to their lives anymore. I’ve talked with many who have left the church or are on standing under the exit sign. Their stories reinforce that conviction. The church for them was simply not a place where they could find God. And if they stayed, it was made clear in (one form or another) that they would not be able to maintain their legitimate claim to a Christian identity if they were to go beyond the established boundaries of the community. And yet, they didn’t really identify spiritually with the “inside” anymore. In that situation a choice has to be made: stagnate or leave.

After leaving, the options are few. So, when they find out about communities like Eclectic Mass or the community my friends are building (and they’re doing it by default really; it’s not like they’re really trying to build an alternative community; they’re just being their wonderful edgy, spiritual selves) the newcomers find a reinvigoration of their spiritual life. Their questions come alive. Their pursuit seems to become somehow more real.

The time has come to re-envision what Christianity can become. This means embracing the divinity of chaos. It means going beyond the boundaries of the status quo and into territory that is frightening, and indeed threatening, to those who have turned the God of order into an idol. Perhaps it is time for a new mass exodus (though admittedly I can’t say for sure that this position is where I am while I explore the possibility). Perhaps it is time to say to those church-goers that if they do not feel that they are connecting to a deeper sense of spirituality within their church setting, that they need to deal with the situation like adults. Talk with those in charge and voice those concerns. Make it clear that changes (yes, changes) are expected. Give a reasonable time for those changes to come into being. And if they nothing happens, leave.

Yes, that’s right, leave. As their Christian duty, they should leave the church. Let it die and take responsibility for their own spiritual wellbeing. Go seek out a community (whether a church or not) where that sense of spiritual connection can be nurtured. If that’s not available (assuming there was a sincere quest for it), there are plenty of independent resources out there. Books, videos, and movies abound. In short, if the conditions of community life have become unreasonable and spiritually emasculating, that’s probably a sign that they are not called to be there. Go forth and find that calling. The primary symbol of Christianity is Jesus, on whom we find the human face of God and in whom we find the fruit of unadulterated spiritual pursuit; it should not a building that identifies us with a particular membership.

I expect that such a suggestion will be met with distinct suspicion and possibly even ire from some of those invested in the institutional church, especially those who are tethered to it. But to those I offer something to reflect upon as well as a challenge. Isn’t this exodus already happening? How many people leave with nowhere to go and no sense of what they might do to grow spiritually other than join another church and start the frustrating cycle all over again? For whom departure is only a matter of time, isn’t it more respectful to encourage them to pursue their spirituality once they have left? And the challenge I offer is to lead real changes within the church context so that those on the edge of faith can really connect with the God who calls them to grow. Make space for them and their spiritual calling. Maybe if they felt as though they were in such an environment, they wouldn’t feel the need to leave.

I guess when push comes to shove, the point of all this may not really be about order or chaos. There is a time for order, and there is a time for chaos. There is a time for our stories to ground our being, and there is a time for our stories to crumble so that without those narrative blinders we can give birth to a new vision of becoming. I guess my point is really less about the divinity of order or chaos and more about the calling to divine life. What does it mean to be fully and vitally alive? If the vital Buddhist can say “I am awake,” what do we need to be doing to create the kind of sacred space necessary for Christians to come to the point where they can say “I am alive”? Would this not be the fruit of being touched by the power of the resurrection? Is this not the ultimate calling of the spirit of Christ?

If we really want to do this, I believe that we must dive, not wade but dive, into the power of divine chaos, the power of creativity, liberation, and vision. For if we don’t, if instead we choose to cling to those traditions that safely bring meaning and order to the current structure, then I suspect the church will simply stand still on its dry, cracking rock, and continue to be beaten by the heat of the sun until it dies a barren and ironically meaningless and death.

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"Mother is the name for God in the lips and hearts of all children. Do you understand? Do you understand?"
~ J. O’Barr, The Crow