In an earlier post, I talked about a book that we are studying in one of our adult education classes at church, entitled You Are What You Love, by James K. A. Smith. I began by talking about the author’s claim that despite what many of us in America and elsewhere in the Western world assume, we humans are not primarily “thinking things.” Instead, we are complex, holistic creatures. There are many “parts” to us, and they all work together.
So why does that matter? Well, Smith suggests that we have erroneously shaped much of our life around the idea that humans primarily think. Thus, if we wish to change our loves, our wants, we begin, and usually end, by trying to get the right content into our heads. Not happy with your physical appearance? Then buy yet another diet or exercise book, read yet another website, ask yet another trainer what to do.
In a highly oversimplified response, I could tell you that the path toward physical modification is basically the same no matter what: eat (or don’t eat) certain things, do (or don’t do) certain things with your body, and rest. It’s really fairly simple. Not easy, but simple—pretty straightforward. And I’m willing to bet that most of you already know that. I’m also willing to be that most people who wish to change their physical appearance know this, too.
It does not require an advanced degree to recognize that knowing this information does not magically lead to the desired transformation. An important part of the process, yes; but by no means the main problem.
The issue is that implementing and sticking with these changes require new patterns of behavior, new practices. They need a community of support. They need examples to imitate. Only then will change happen and “stick.”
This example points to issues elsewhere, too. Many in the church treat discipleship in the same way. We assume that the obstacle preventing me from becoming more like Jesus is lack of content. I need to buy the latest book by my favorite author; I need to attend another conference; I need to heart favorite pastor preach. Obviously, we think, my failures reflect a lack of content.
Smith argues, and I agree, that this view of discipleship is misguided and harmful. What if we thought of discipleship more like the physical change we might also desire? What if we thought of it more like learning an instrument, training for a marathon, etc.?
The first observation is that the issue is rarely a lack of content. Again, to oversimplify: most Christians know in about ninety-five percent of the moments of their lives what they could or should do in order to be like Jesus. It’s quite simple (not easy, but simple).
I will explore more of this in the near future. Chew on this for now. I would love to hear your thoughts.