Wednesday, August 22, 2007 at 1:01am
Praise God for change
Column: New Houses from Old Bricks
What if someone came along and completely transformed your life — your daily routine, your relationships, your view of the world?
That's what Jesus does for the woman (or what he does to her) in Luke 13:10-17. She has been crippled for 18 years, Luke tells us, bent over and not able to straighten up at all. During that time, her infirmity would have shaped her routine, her relationships and her view of the world. (How do you see the sky from that position? or look into someone's face?)
One day she comes into the synagogue, and Jesus is teaching there. The story doesn't say that she came looking for healing, or that she asked for it. Suddenly she is called forward, Jesus lays his hands on her, and then she is free. Luke says, "Immediately she straightened up and praised God."
Her life has just changed irrevocably, apparently through no request of her own. From the way she prepares her meals, to the way she looks at her surroundings, to the way people look at her — all will be different from now on. To praise God in that moment would be remarkable, a sign of trust that the accompanying changes will be good ones.
But are we always so trusting? We humans can get pretty attached to the status quo — even when it is uncomfortable, and even though we may long for relief. Deep down we often prefer a discomfort we know how to handle to a relief accompanied by discomforts yet unknown.
Problematic for any status quo is the fact that we can never alter just one thing. The ripple effects can be many, sending change spinning out of control. For systems that prefer stasis, that's irritating at best and panic-inducing at worst, even with positive changes. Change one thing about your life, or family, or workplace, and the system will probably try to change it back, and make you conform again to your old shape.
Just ask an alcoholic who gets sober. Her family may be so used to the twisted shape of addiction that even the ones who once longed for her sobriety may now find themselves inadvertently sabotaging her recovery.
Just ask someone who has lost a significant amount of weight. Friends have told me that their relationships changed after such a transformation. Perhaps people perceived them differently, or their own modified self-image altered the relationship.
Just ask someone who finds a long-term workplace suddenly intolerable after some counseling taught him to "stand up straight."
Just ask my chiropractor, who has set about changing the shape of my back through adjustments and exercises. The moderate scoliosis I've had since my teenage years, she says, will continue to get worse with time and gravity. But if we can shift the shape at all — straighten it even a little — that will relieve some of the pressure caused by the bends and twists.
The problem is, my back is in stasis the way it is. Sure, it hurts sometimes, but this is a discomfort it knows how to handle. Change the shape even a little, and the muscles try to get it to change back. They complain a lot through aches and pains. And having undergone the uncomfortable ripple effects of other positive changes in my life, I understand completely.
Alas, those muscles do not get a direct zap from Jesus' hands. They do not suddenly stand up straight and praise God.
At least, they haven't yet.
Next week: Scoliosis provides a powerful metaphor for spiritual discipline and "formation"
— — —
Rev. Rebecca Schlatter is an ordained minister in the Lutheran Church (ELCA) in Reno, Nevada. You can contact her at {email newhousesfromoldbricks@hotmail.com}newhousesfromoldbricks@hotmail.com{/email}. © Copyright 2007 by Rebecca Schlatter.
That's what Jesus does for the woman (or what he does to her) in Luke 13:10-17. She has been crippled for 18 years, Luke tells us, bent over and not able to straighten up at all. During that time, her infirmity would have shaped her routine, her relationships and her view of the world. (How do you see the sky from that position? or look into someone's face?)
One day she comes into the synagogue, and Jesus is teaching there. The story doesn't say that she came looking for healing, or that she asked for it. Suddenly she is called forward, Jesus lays his hands on her, and then she is free. Luke says, "Immediately she straightened up and praised God."
Her life has just changed irrevocably, apparently through no request of her own. From the way she prepares her meals, to the way she looks at her surroundings, to the way people look at her — all will be different from now on. To praise God in that moment would be remarkable, a sign of trust that the accompanying changes will be good ones.
But are we always so trusting? We humans can get pretty attached to the status quo — even when it is uncomfortable, and even though we may long for relief. Deep down we often prefer a discomfort we know how to handle to a relief accompanied by discomforts yet unknown.
Problematic for any status quo is the fact that we can never alter just one thing. The ripple effects can be many, sending change spinning out of control. For systems that prefer stasis, that's irritating at best and panic-inducing at worst, even with positive changes. Change one thing about your life, or family, or workplace, and the system will probably try to change it back, and make you conform again to your old shape.
Just ask an alcoholic who gets sober. Her family may be so used to the twisted shape of addiction that even the ones who once longed for her sobriety may now find themselves inadvertently sabotaging her recovery.
Just ask someone who has lost a significant amount of weight. Friends have told me that their relationships changed after such a transformation. Perhaps people perceived them differently, or their own modified self-image altered the relationship.
Just ask someone who finds a long-term workplace suddenly intolerable after some counseling taught him to "stand up straight."
Just ask my chiropractor, who has set about changing the shape of my back through adjustments and exercises. The moderate scoliosis I've had since my teenage years, she says, will continue to get worse with time and gravity. But if we can shift the shape at all — straighten it even a little — that will relieve some of the pressure caused by the bends and twists.
The problem is, my back is in stasis the way it is. Sure, it hurts sometimes, but this is a discomfort it knows how to handle. Change the shape even a little, and the muscles try to get it to change back. They complain a lot through aches and pains. And having undergone the uncomfortable ripple effects of other positive changes in my life, I understand completely.
Alas, those muscles do not get a direct zap from Jesus' hands. They do not suddenly stand up straight and praise God.
At least, they haven't yet.
Next week: Scoliosis provides a powerful metaphor for spiritual discipline and "formation"
— — —
Rev. Rebecca Schlatter is an ordained minister in the Lutheran Church (ELCA) in Reno, Nevada. You can contact her at {email newhousesfromoldbricks@hotmail.com}newhousesfromoldbricks@hotmail.com{/email}. © Copyright 2007 by Rebecca Schlatter.