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The telephone rings. Delighted and curious at the same time because almost no one calls me, I pick up the receiver, not recognizing at first who is speaking. The voice sounds almost sinister, like that of a minor character in an ancient horror film, but almost at once I recognize it by the obsequious formality with which it carefully asks me if I am at home. It is my friend, the spook. Forgive me, Lord! and brothers, for using this term for him, because it’s not entirely an innocent jest. I quickly discard my initial reaction, and identify myself to him. He knows I live alone, so if anyone answers, it must be me. Still, he asks.
He is calling from work. The background noise as the conversation begins is almost deafening. I have to shout my responses to his questions. The sudden disruption of the serene atmosphere in my upper rooms drives my number three son out of the house. I don’t actually live alone at the moment. This son lives with me and his bedroom is next to mine. My friend asks me if I was in church today, because he missed seeing me last Lord’s Day. He will get back to topics related to church after asking me if I have packed my bags and am ready to leave for Indonesia in a week, and how much luggage I’m taking.
After telling me that I would be traveling rather light with only one carry-on and a briefcase, and warning me of all the discomfort and inconvenience I am in for, and then fussing with me about departure and arrival times and a thousand other things that could go wrong but probably won’t, he ramped down to the level of conversation where he felt it necessary to perforate my faith. First he asked if I knew who preached last Lord’s Day, and I told him I had already heard the gossip, so he needn’t refresh me. He wasn’t at church this morning, as I was, and so he asked what was preached today.
It was the 11th Sunday of Luke, the reading was from Luke 14:16-24 and Matthew 22:14. Fr Demosthenes preached right well on the gospel, as usual bringing everyone round to the truth that a formal or ceremonial relationship to God is not enough. The relationship must be personal. How he got round to this message, I’m not quite sure, but it all made sense at the time. The punch line of the gospel, ‘For many are called, but few are chosen,’ means, according to the preacher, that everyone is called to the life of salvation, but only the obedient are chosen. Fr Demosthenes wants everyone to know Jesus.
My friend seemed taken aback, ‘I’ve always thought that this gospel was about dying and being shut out of the Kingdom of Heaven.’ He has a knack for contrary reasoning, and for questioning, sometimes, what need not be questioned. Now ensued a lengthy, and noisy, dialog between us. Me, trying to answer his objections or questions, him, trying to unload new ones on me. Meanwhile the roar of machinery was making me very impatient. Why is it that the evil one uses even our friends to disrupt our peace? It wasn’t just the stillness of the evening that was being deviled, but the calmness of my faith.
Moving along to a new topic he needed to discuss, ‘You weren’t doing anything tonight, I hope. I really need to ask you about this,’ he told me that he knows a family that has connexions to an Indian holy man, and this man works healing miracles. The guru—I use the word I’m familiar with, he didn’t—puts sacred ashes on your forehead and you get cured of ‘whatever ails you.’ I asked him, what did it matter? And he responded that he was going to send away for some of these ashes for himself, because he needed help. Somewhat surprised, I tried to explain to him that if he is a Christian, he doesn’t need the ashes.
We went round and round about the healing powers inherent in the relics of the saints and in ikons. Without disputing the Church’s tradition about such things, I simply stated what I have heard time and again at church, that it is only Christ who heals and performs miracles of healing, and that it is our faith in Him that is our contribution to the process. ‘But there are stories of people, unbelievers, even being healed by contact with miraculous ikons and relics.’ I had heard of such things too, I replied, but that only shows that God can do and does whatever He chooses, but power still comes from Him, always.
Going round and round on this with my friend, I was reminded of what C. S. Lewis writes, ‘They like drawing you into an interminable argument.’ He writes this about the demons who plant logismoi—here I have to switch to Greek Orthodox unseen warfare terminology—‘thoughtlets’ into our brains to get the machinery of circular and unproductive logic going in us, to waste time, to discourage, to bring us even to despair, or even to argue us out of salvation. I’m not saying my friend is a demon, only that his spiritual economy is very weak and subservient to subtle speculations motivated by wrong fear.
Before the phone call ended, I brought my friend back to one basic principle. Only Christ heals, because only He has the authority, that all true healings, however they come about—by saints, by holy objects, by mystics, or even by doctors—are still through Him. Yes, perhaps Hindu holy men perform healing or other miracles, or else it is just magic and superstition, and the same could be said of our saints. ‘But,’ I reiterated, ‘if you are a Christian, if you have received the Light of Christ, then you do not need go to holy men of other religions to find miracles, or faith.’ Now, Lord, restore my peace, and heal me.
Faith comes by hearing, and hearing by the Word of God.
Romans 10:17
Related to the post Evening visit.
1 comment:
Well handled :) It can be difficult when, knowing that one is "family" in Christ, we are faced with their wonderings as if they are somehow implanted by God. It is the Truth of God's word alone that we rely on as absolute. All else, all other thoughts and wonderings, have to be tested against it. Paul told Timothy that a leader must "Hold onto the deep truths of the faith" (1Tim 3:9)Well done :)
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