A year ago I was in the final days of writing a thesis paper for my Masters of Arts degree. It covered the theological construction of Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s ethics regarding violence. It was to be the pinnacle of my academic career - 2 years in seminary and 4 in my undergraduate.
By this point, I had spent a year reading every book Bonhoeffer wrote. I had read dozens of books about Bonhoeffer and about the books he wrote. I read books about the books he didn’t write. I even adopted the hobbies and musical tastes of Bonhoeffer during those days. My time, my conversations, my mind, my whole life was filled to the brim with Bonhoeffer. A friend even told me I was beginning to look like Bonhoeffer. I was consumed.
Then, several months later I met a woman and fell in love. I spent weeks researching engagement rings. Color, carats, clarity, materials, costs (oh God, the costs) and all the many details that were so important to know when finding a tiny piece of jewelry that will signify the most important bond I could know at that point of life. I went to every jewelry store in sight. I scoured Pinterest. I surveyed the women around me. My eyes were probably sparkling from the permanent reflection of rings I was constantly gazing upon.
Then, the wedding. I spent 3 months with nothing but wedding details in front of me. Before my eyes, through my ears, under my finger tips, on my lips; cake, decorations, music, clothes, and more. My Netflix and DVR were made up of a bunch of shows I never imagined I’d watch like “Say Yes to the Dress” or “Bridezilla.” Every discussion I had with people came back to my wedding. Not because I’m a selfish jerk, though I may be, but because all I knew was my wedding. Nothing else existed. I was focused. I was consumed. I had given myself fully to this cause and it formed my life and identity. I had become Travis Blankenship; Wedding Genius (OK, that’s being generous but you get the point).
Tonight, my wife and I both talked about our friends who are about to get married and it reminded us of this all-consuming habit we humans adopt. We give ourselves to things that completely take us over. In reflecting on this I recalled one of my favorite and most guiding scriptures:
1 Corinthians 2:2 “For I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ and him crucified”
I’ve known nothing but Dietrich Bonhoeffer. I’ve known nothing but engagement rings and weddings. I’ve even known nothing but the Seattle Seahawks recently. I’m sure we can all think of things that have filled our entire vision for a time. Of them all, only one should be everlasting and only one should rule us completely. Only one thing in all the world ought to reign in our lives so entirely that it forms our identity and rituals while forcing everything to come back to it.
Jesus Christ crucified should be all we know.
I’m not saying it’s not okay to allow things in this life to greatly occupy us. My dedication to my thesis or bride were not wrong. My point is that St. Paul has shown us something good and worthy of pursuing: to know nothing but Jesus Christ and him crucified, especially among people. We must allow Christ to occupy us beyond all else and at all times.
What would it look like to embrace this extreme dedication?
What sort of faithfulness would this require?
How often would scripture be read or heard each day?
What would our conversations look like with friends?
Which songs would we sing the most?
What would our relationship to the poor, needy, and marginalized look like?
How many luxuries would we lose?
Would we be able to pray enough?
What would be done with our free time?
What sufferings would we learn to embrace?
Would knowing nothing but Jesus Christ crucified look the way my life looks now or would it look different? If it would look different, can I imagine the path toward knowing only this one all important reality? Could the local church help me to get there? (The answer here is ‘yes’)
I am joyfully cornered into believing that if I knew nothing but Jesus Christ crucified that I would gain the wisdom to know how to not become legalistic about dedicating myself to Jesus and giving him every bit of my life while also allowing myself to be fully consumed by him as I walk in the messiness of life as someone set apart in this world, uniquely reflecting Jesus to all.
Could I pray more? Yes. Could I read and recall scriptures more? Yes. Could I give up less luxuries and find solidarity with the low of status more? Yes. Every bit of me could be given to Christ more. It should be.
And this is true of every single person. This is not to lead us into guilt as though it were some sort of burden though for we know that the yoke (teaching) of the crucified Jesus is a light one. As we reflect on our own lives let us ask God to show us where to focus ourselves. Let us begin the journey to know nothing but Jesus Christ crucified by embracing new habits, rituals, thoughts, identities, societies, and lives. Let us do it together as the Church and let us do it honestly.
When we fall short, let’s confess. When we succeed let’s not boast. Let’s take the advice of the disciples who once wrote, “if you can carry the whole yoke of the Lord you will be perfect; but if you cannot, do what you can.” As you do so, “Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding” (Proverbs 3:5) and “whatever you do, do all to the glory of God” (1 Corinthians 10:31).
As you gain knowledge of many things in this world, may you know nothing amongst others but Jesus Christ and him crucified, that you may be formed by him and his victorious crucifixion that has brought you redemption into a person who embodies the Spirit of our Lord.
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