I
Old words and old ways. We are all too quick
to let them go. A kind of Gresham’s Law
of language and experience takes hold—
a current in the ever-blowing wind
of history—so that we look for that
which is a little easier or more
convenient, although the speaking of
it isn’t quite as elegant as what
we thus let fall, nor does it have the same
power to connote; and if we find that we
can do so much more with the new way than
the old—although the old shows greater care
and patience, craft and satisfaction—we
turn sail into the winds of change, as if
mere change were our appointed course in life.
As many new words, phrases, thoughts, ideas,
philosophies, and worldviews glance our sails,
we want to sample every one, to see
what’s new. Likewise with all the disciplines
of life and work, of fashion, culture, taste,
and even how we build the Church. We want
whatever proves the newest and the best,
debasing as we go both life and speech
to serve the deities of relevance,
efficiency, convenience, or mere sloth.
In Christian circles this means busyness
at the expense of contemplation, change
instead of patient waiting, listening to
the clamor of the times and its demands
as much, if not more, than the Word of God.
Thus we have lost our unifying core—
the vision of our Lord exalted—and
devote our dearest energies and time
to things which little benefit or build
us. Competition is our watchword, and
this keeps us busy at distinguishing
our church or views or liturgy or style
of worship from the other churches in
our town. And so on, all around the world.
Which is to say, there are no Marys in
our midst. For we’re all Marthas now, engaged
in frenzied labors of all sorts to meet
the needs of everyone we hope to count
among our own ranks. We have sold ourselves
to numbers and forget the only one
the Word of God instructed us to seek:
Our unity—one Lord, one body, one
hope, one baptism, one continuous care
for one another, and one Kingdom. We
have lost our common vision, that alone
which can dissolve all disagreements, melt
all fears, absolve all wrongs, and forge new bonds
of peace among us. And we little seem
to care. The winds of change assault our sails
and if we do not give them sheet, we pride
ourselves—locked in our own such winds—that we
are not like them, but hold fast to the new
old words and ways that made us look askance
at other brethren in the first place; and
we tell ourselves our ways are better than
both every old new way and all the new
ways currently afoot. Thus, we have lost
our focus on Him Who is ever new,
and Who is ever making all things new
according to His Word. For He is new.
“New” is defined by Him. Whatever He
has said is new. How He Himself has shown
us to pursue His Kingdom and to build
His Church is new. We set aside that which
is truly and forever new when we,
aspiring more to relevance than Christ,
reject the trusted words and ways we now
consider old and glom on to the next
new thing that everyone is rushing to.
Our common panting after change is all
the world sees in which we are all alike.
Our lust for change is driven by the hope
of being relevant and up-to-date,
more so, we hope, than other churches; or
if not more so, at least enough to keep
us from decline and the appearance of
irrelevance—the dread death-rattle of
a congregation. Although no one seems
to ask the question, “Relevant to what?”
Unless our answer is, “To Jesus”, we
no relevance of any lasting worth
possess to offer anyone. We choose
to spin up some new sure-fire effort or
approach to this or that than to be still
and know our God, to seek out in His face
the glory that alone can make us more
like Him, and thereby make us one. And when
we come to Him, it’s to remind Him of
the many efforts we are making in
His Name, to vaunt our industry and plead
for more resources and more help, that we
might even greater labors undertake
to bring His blessings to the world. Thus, while
He bids us sit and gaze and be transformed,
to meld as one within the wonder of
His patient love, that we might fill our world,
not with our doctrines or distinctives, but
with Him, we bustle on, with scant regard
for His desire for unity, but for
our own best entertainments only. And
we fail to notice that the harder we
apply ourselves to our agenda, all
the more the world is unpersuaded and
goes looking elsewhere for the meaning, hope,
and purpose that it cannot live without.
The one, true needful thing denied, at best,
but dabbled in, we find the needy world
no longer heeds or wants what we propose.
Perhaps an old word, resurrected, might
awaken us to what we are about
to lose amid the rising flood of lies.
II
We’ll understand absimilation best
if we compare it with its opposite,
assimilation. This implies to take
in, understand, absorb, and integrate
one thing into another. This is what
our Lord intends for us, that we might have
so rich a fellowship with Him that we
partake of His eternal and divine
essential Being. We are called to grow
in grace and in the knowledge of our Lord
and Savior, to be changed to be more like
Him, both as individuals and as flocks,
and as one Church. For every church in its
community embodies Jesus and
must seek to increase in Him. Likewise, each
believer must see Jesus growing in
him and his old ways set aside, that all
things might be new, refracting to the world
the truth of Jesus, risen from the dead
and reigning at the Father’s right hand. Thus
we are to seek assimilation, to
be more and more transformed to be like Him
Who tells us He is making all things new.
We must make progress in our faith and work
out our salvation, pressing on to be
like Jesus. And this goes for churches just
as much as for believers. We must set
our minds on Jesus, daily have our hearts
renewed in Him, and set His Law and all
His Word alone as arbiter of all
we think, plan, long for, hope to realize
or to achieve, in every aspect of
our lives as well as in our churches. Yet
the law of sin that lingers in the soul
of each believer lingers in the Church
as well, and is an obstacle to keep
us from our calling to God’s Kingdom and
His glory. Sin’s preferred approach to turn
us from the path of righteousness is not
to wrench us violently from our way,
but rather, gently to insinuate
ideas, possibilities, and goals
that can be made to sound like progress in
the Lord, but which in fact lead us to seek
things other than assimilation in
Him and His truth. And then we start to drift,
and drift is what absimilation means.
For drift is oh so subtle. Drift is smooth
and takes a long time to be recognized.
And by the time it is, it’s looked upon
as normal. We can drift in many ways
at once, absimilating from the Lord
and taking on the likeness of the world
until the fabric of our lives in Christ
is rent and torn and frayed like some old flag
disintegrating in contrary winds.
We see the colors that say “Christian” or
“the church”, but they are not as bright as they
might be, and all that fraying threatens to
dissolve the unity we once enjoyed.
Absimilation is the work of sin,
and we are fraying by it in our day.
For reflection or discussion
- What can cause a church to drift from true Gospel moorings?
- What is our responsibility, as church members, to help keep our church from drifting?
The thing about drift—absimilation—is, first, that it’s so subtle we can sometimes fail to recognize it, and, second, that when we drift we’re moving steadily toward something other than the Lord. And we simply cannot expect Him to encourage or bless us when we allow absimilation to draw us away from Him. Share today’s podcast with a friend, then get together to discuss it. For more insight to the theme of our series on Absimilation, order a copy of our book, The Church Captive from The Ailbe Bookstore, either in book form or as a free PDF for your e-reader.
