The Way Up Is the Way Down
Literary critic and poet T.S. Eliot begins his famous poem "Four Quartets" with this preface: "The way up and the way down are one and the same."
These words are not original. He borrows the phrase from the ancient philosopher Heraclitus. Everything is constantly changing. As the water in the river moves, so history moves. It's always new.
In a world that's constantly altering, what does that mean for our maturity? If everything is always moving, is there any hope of stability, the kind that Paul refers to as maturity, not being “tossed to and fro by the waves and carried about by every wind of doctrine, by human cunning, by craftiness in deceitful schemes” (Eph. 4.14)?
With the movements of the world fluctuating so rapidly, how can order come to the seeming disorder?
SOLUTIONS TO CHAOS
There are various approaches to these questions. Those with more conservative convictions tend to see power as the solution leading to stability. Whether it’s power in church leadership or seeking change in the political sphere, there are some who seek influence by any means necessary. After all, the culture wars rage on. The problem is seen as weakness or ineffectiveness; if only we had leaders who had some backbone to say and do the hard things. The way to mature and progress is by being in power. So, we clutch on to it with all our might.
As those with more liberal leanings tend to see, as long as the river is moving, we're going to a better place. In this view, progress leads to stability. If reform is happening, progress is happening. The solution is throwing away backward policy and pursuits or, to make it more personal, as long as development is happening, we think we are maturing. As we progress from year to year, we’re obviously becoming more spiritually mature and vibrant.
For much of evangelicalism, we seem to think the truth is the way to find order. If we cross our theological t's and dot our incarnational i's, we tend to think we can bring order to a broken world. If the problem is theological illiteracy (which is rampant), the solution is more or better information. Stabilization in a turbulent age means returning to the “faith once for all delivered to the saints” (Jude 3).
I've searched for stability in all of these ways. I can even biblically justify them in many respects. I've wanted to gain or exercise power to "fix" a situation. I've lamented the social ills of our society and derided the powers that be. My natural tendency is to lean on my intellect and think, If you all just believed the same things that I do, we'd be a lot better off.
In many ways, these are the ways we seek to be credible. Politically, if the supposed right person is in office, then we’ll get the right policies and then establish credibility. Socially and culturally, if the right people become Christians, then the faith will be credible. The recent Kanye news brings this idea to the forefront, but it could just as well be said of Tim Tebow or Bob Dylan. “Look!” we seem to say, “These ‘influencers’ are Christians. We’re more credible now.” Personally, I can think my theological system or camp makes me credible. In many ways, pastoral hiring practices follow this line of thought.
But life remains chaotic. There are no results of stability or maturity. The promises don’t seem to deliver. The picture looks bleak.
LOVE: THE BETTER WAY
Stability doesn’t come solely from power grabbing. It doesn’t come only from progress for progress’ sake. The German theologian Hans Urs von Balthasar is helpful here. He proposes another way toward stability. He suggests love alone makes one credible. And Jesus is clear on what love is: love means laying down your life (John 15:13).
The pattern of Christ is descent. It involves descending to a knee to wash dirty feet, stooping to make mud in the ground in order to heal, stepping from heavenly glory to be embodied in earthly flesh. It’s only after his incarnation, death, burial, and descent to the "timeless, spaceless darkness of hell,” that he rises. It's scandalizing. The God-man made nothing for sinful men. It is appealing in thought but appalling—revolting even—in practice.
“The pattern of Christ is descent.”
Balthasar suggests the whole of Christ's life is to be the paradigm of our lives on earth. If, with Christ, we have been buried and resurrected, then with Christ, we have been given a place in heaven. Therefore, we “live within a horizon and from sources that lie beyond the limits of our mortality." We live now with the richness and fullness of Christ that’s realized to its greatest extent later.
The key to true progress, and therefore, stability, is eschatological—beyond the vision of this life. In contrast, if all we have is life under the sun, then Paul’s depiction of the those who do not believe in a bodily resurrection is right in 1 Corinthians 15:32: “Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we die.”
That’s how many of our neighbors live, because there is no future hope or limit of their own mortality. If we can be honest, it’s often how we live. Why love when we could have a good time? It’s much easier to medicate with busyness or consumer choices or pursuits of happiness. We need to lean in eschatologically. We need stability that is beyond the here and now.
When progress is mortal, fears rise and chaos reigns. And if stability needs to be secured in our lifetime, there is a rightful fear of the “other,” especially if they’re seeking to steal and disrupt everything that will bring us to maturity. They threaten the fundamental hope we have, namely, our solutions to society’s problems.
But “the beyond” shapes and roots love. Hope is of a different horizon than the temporary. Our future beyond is as sure as Christ’s seat on the throne.
THE UPSIDE-DOWN NATURE OF LOVE
Imagine the altered hope this would give us around election time. What if we showed others the person in office doesn’t dictate our love for neighbor or showed those around us we will continue to lay down our lives on others’ behalf even if evangelicals lose all the social policies we value.
Even if our theological tribes splinter, would it crush our hope in the future of the church? Is our hope grounded in a person, policy, or ecclesial authority or Christ? As Russell Moore has insisted, borrowing from Martin Luther King, Jr. before him, “The arc of history is long but it bends toward Jesus.”
“Maybe it’s by losing that we win.”
Beyond the limits of our mortality or what we could imagine. Maybe it’s by losing that we win.
I don’t want to suggest that we shouldn’t care about politics or policy or theological convictions. We should work diligently to create flourishing environments or to establish a better future. My pushback is to what degree or limit or cost? Disordered love is always toxic, even when it comes to theological truth.
The apostle Paul advises, “But God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong; God chose what is low and despised in the world, even things that are not, to bring to nothing things that are” (1 Cor. 1:27-28). What would it look like to be seen as irrelevant or less credible culturally but really be loving?
BOASTING IN LOVE
In a world that seems to progress toward nowhere, where society is disordered and ill-formed, sacrificial love is required even while the consequences are beyond our perception.
Some boast in power, some in progress, others in truth. But we boast in love. Love alone is credible. Love is the enticing fragrance of the gospel that moves us forward. The answer of love is not the opposite of power or progress or truth. But it is a reversal.
Love means to live is to die. To lose your soul is to gain it (Mark 8:36; Phil. 3:7-11). Power revealed in weakness; truth in foolishness. Death then resurrection. Down and then up. I suppose they're the same after all.
Alex Sosler is assistant professor of Bible and Ministry at Montreat College near Asheville, NC. Prior to the academy, Alex served as a pastoral assistant in Cleveland, Ohio, and as an associate pastor in Austin, Texas. He is married to Lauren and dad to Mariela, Auden, and Jude. His church home is Redeemer Anglican Church in Asheville, NC.