Thoughts On: John 6:60-65

When many of his disciples heard it, they said, "This is a hard saying; who can listen to it?" But Jesus, knowing in himself that his disciples were grumbling about this, said to them, "Do you take offense at this? Then what if you were to see the Son of Man ascending to where he was before? It is the Spirit who gives life; the flesh is no help at all. The words that I have spoken to you are spirit and life. But there are some of you who do not believe." (For Jesus knew from the beginning who those were who did not believe, and who it was who would betray him.) And he said, "This is why I told you that no one can come to me unless it is granted him by the Father."

John 6:60-65, ESV

I read a story once in social psychology about a murder that took place in a safe suburb. Many of the murdered woman's neighbors heard the screams and remembered them vividly upon questioning, but no one called the police. They all said that they assumed if there really was a problem, it would be more obvious, and that they figured someone else would do something about it if it got bad enough. I forget the exact term for this, but it's something we all do - we assume that someone else will step in to help when crisis hits. 

I thought about this story this morning as I listened to someone screaming in the near distance. I heard them scream twice, and then I heard another voice - one that sounded like begging. My first instinct was that it wasn't my business. My second instinct was to remember this story. So I listened a little longer, and as the screaming became more violent I decided to call the police. I still don't know what happened. Maybe I overreacted, or maybe I didn't, but I can still taste the fear.

I think the feeling is similar, when we begin to taste death in our own lives. I know it was for me. I didn't want to cause alarm and I didn't want to rock the boat, but I knew there was something wrong. I could sense it in my own panic. I can always sense it, when the lie begins to creep in, the lie that the Spirit brings death. It has always been the darkest of the lies, and I believed it for a long time. I believed that the Holy Spirit was out to bring pain and not relief, fear and not peace. I believed he wanted to hurt me and chain me up, not mend me and break me free. I believed all the wrong things about the Holy Spirit, and it haunted me like those violent screams. But now I can recognize when it is time to call the police. 

The truth is that the Spirit gives life. It took me 22 years to believe it, and it's still sinking in now, that Christianity is about abundant life and not violent death. It's true, though - the Holy Spirit is about grace and joy and love, and the Spirit is the one I call in when things are starting to wear thin. I have no context for when a neighbor may need help, and maybe I messed that one up, but I know now when it's time to call on the Spirit. I know because the fear starts to settle into my bones and I lose all of my joy. I know because I begin to dream of gunshots and high pitched screams. I know because I begin to feel myself careening into a place of hopeless exhaustion and tears, a place I lived in for many years. 

It's been hard, this learning what is true and what is not. I believed some nasty lies for a long, long time, and I've had to leave them all behind. And it's been good, walking away from the pain, but walking away from your entire world is harder than it seems. It still shows up in my dreams. But I'm finally learning to live free, and this truth embodies the freedom. I have started to call on the Holy Spirit when the screams begin to haunt me, and I'm finding the the Spirit is exactly what I'll always need. I've learned not to assume that someone else will notice when things get bad, and I've learned not to wait for the moment when everything falls apart. It's not the whole deal, and I still often call much too late - but it's a start.