The Tyrant of Life

What is life? I often wonder about the deep grammar behind our personification of life. "Well, that's life," we say. Yes, but what does that mean? Is life really some sort of existential, incorporeal card dealer? Should we be capitalizing it, like a personal noun: Life? (That reminds me: I could have a whole other post on how that board game is a social commentary on the American dream - but I'm not that cynical. It's just a board game, right?) Or maybe life is really just some universal Cousin Eddie, making your existence miserable until somehow, even though he has totally exhausted your ability to cope with, well, himself, it all works out in the end (but only for Christians, mind you).

Oh yeah, and then there's the God thing. If you listen closely to the way we talk about it, there must be ample evidence that God and Life are colluding against us. Of course, sometimes they are kind enough to work things out in our favor. That's a "God Thing." And don't even get me started on The Plan, starring God, Life, and You. It's an ensemble show that will make you laugh and cry all at once (so basically, it's MASH).

Or maybe Life is God's puppy. "Sorry about my dog doing his business on your leg," He shrugs, "He's just a puppy, after all." God sighs and puts His hands on His hips in mock disgust. You can't be mad at God about that, can you? I mean, who can control a puppy? And, who can control life? Life has got plans of his own, a mind of his own. Or maybe she does. After all, life is nothing if not capricious.

It's the control issue, I think, that brings clarity to the significance of the way we talk about life. If life exists apart from us, then it gives us a reason to accept when life doesn't "go our way," or "deals us a bad hand," or "isn't fair," or "doesn't work out." Life doesn't work out? What does that mean? You and Life sat down and had a talk and Life said, "It's not you; it's me. I'm just not ready for the commitment."

No, everything must be under control. We want the Force; we want balance in the universe. And, if we had our druthers, we'd be the ones calling the shots. That's why Jimmy Buffett and his cheeseburger are so ridiculous to most of us. Not too particular or precise? Who wants that? I know exactly what I want on my cheeseburger and I want it right now. As Christians, we have spiritualized this desire for control - we gave God a plan. That way, if things don't "go our way," we can just say that it wasn't part of God's plan and maintain some sort of intellectual control. At the very least, we ought to be able to understand why Life is the way it is. Here's a thought, what if God's plan isn't as detailed as yours?

No, that's ridiculous. Too ridiculous to admit that it scares us to death (life, death, irony, thank you very much). I'd rather personify Life, so then I can pursue it, possess it. The truly gifted among us even go so far as to master it; they have its secrets.

I believe that the reason we want control is because we fear anarchy. What if none of what we call Life means anything? Isn't that the greatest fear of Christians, and likewise the greatest comfort for Atheists? If we can only get enough control, then we can avoid the utter chaos of anarchy. Then Life will mean something.

And herein lies the problem: anarchy breeds tyranny. That's why anarchy, or even the fear of it, is rarely a valid motivation for any worthwhile endeavor. In our movement especially, we need to move past reactionary theology (the kind that rises from this very fear of anarchy, chaos, or even any semblance of a lack of control) because it can only lead to tyranny. (Many Christians would propose we set up a "democracy" (i.e., a board of trustees, I mean, elders) but I'm all for giving theocracy a shot). The point is, the only humans who have ever been in support of tyranny were tyrants. And that's not because they think it's best for everyone, but because it gives them the most power and therefore, control. In the same way, I fear that many Christians have become tyrants in their own right.

Some tyrannize faith; they have all the right answers. Some tyrannize church; they have all the right forms. Me? I'm afraid I may be the tyrant of life. Chaos is my fear. Control is my idol and balance is its accepted sacrifice. Now I'm not saying that balance is bad - it's not. But balance and self-control may not be synonymous, and I'm not so sure that God wouldn't welcome an imbalance in his favor. I wish I was as addicted to God as I may be to sports. I certainly think the world would be a much better place if we could get our churches to be as addicted to God as they are to money, status, pornography, drugs, or itself.

Jesus said that he came to give us abundant life. And maybe that's the problem - we never talk about life as it is. Life is a gift.