Take This Bread

"It was the materiality of Christianity that fascinated me, the compelling story of incarnation in its grungiest details, the promise that words and flesh were deeply, deeply connected."

I just read an excerpt from a new book titled Take This Bread by Sara Miles, a "left-wing, secular journalist and former cook." I'm fairly certain I'll have some major points of disagreement with her theology, but a lot of what she wrote resonated with me and the things that have been on my mind of late. For example, the value of doubt, which jumped out at me from the first paragraph...

My first year at St. Gregory's would begin, and end, with questions. Now I understand that questions are at the heart of faith, and that certainties about God can flicker on and off, no matter what you think you know. But back then, I thought "believers" were people who knew exactly what they believed and had nailed all the answers.

She talked about some of her initial questions, and I smiled when she labeled "how to pray" a beginner's query - for me it's one of the biggies - I find prayer a huge mystery of faith, but I suppose in high church there would be more regimented ways than in the non-denominational churches of my upbringing. She did mention trying "to summon up thankfulness" in prayer, which I find an interesting notion. A few weeks ago, in a prayer meeting, I read a portion of The Screwtape Letters by CS Lewis (which I highly recommend) written in 1942 in which dear Uncle Screwtape encouraged Wormwood to try and get his 'subject' to focus on himself rather than God in prayer, summoning up a feeling within himself in lieu of relying on God. This reliance on feeling in faith is something we, especially Greg, talk a lot about here, and it truly is everywhere... but that is something of an aside.

She had the requisite anger at the "hypocrisy and insincerity of church", something which seems to come up over and over around l'abri and seems to be a stumbling block for nearly everyone at some point. Allying yourself with such a "fabulously corrupt institution" can be daunting, and it can be difficult to defend such an ailing body as is the body of Christ on earth.

Conversion was turning out to be quite far from the greeting-card moment promised by televangelists, when Jesus steps into your life, personally saves you, and becomes your lucky charm forever. Instead, it was socially and politically awkward, as well as profoundly confusing. I wasn't struck with any sudden conviction that I now understood the "truth." If anything, I was just crabbier, lonelier, and more destabilized.

Some might call that the disorientation that seems to invariably precede any sort of re-orientation. A necessary, though painful, part of the journey.

All this to say, I'm looking forward to reading this book. I'm sure there will be many points of disagreement, but I'm hopeful that there will be treasures as well.

Currently Listening To: Turin Brakes