The most fundamental way in which exile has been constantly brought to my thoughts is through my devotions in the prophetic book of Ezekiel, from which I am trying to read a chapter every day. Ezekiel himself is an exile, having been taken from his native land in one of the emptyings of Jerusalem into Babylon. My notes say that he must have been taken, along with King Jehoiachin and 10,000 other Jews, a handful of years before the final siege of Jerusalem. God commissions him to foretell the fall of Jerusalem, future restoration, and other things further into the future.
One thing that strikes me is that those who had not yet been taken captive by Babylon and so remained in Jerusalem were quite ridiculously self-satisfied, and denied the future danger they must have seen coming. By saying, “Will it not soon be time to build houses? This city is a cooking pot, and we are the meat,” they implied that they who were left were obviously the “cream of the crop,” and that those who had been taken must have been in some way inferior. God directly contradicts them by saying that the real “meat” of their people were those that were murdered and thrown into the streets of Jerusalem for fighting against the evil in the land. He also calls the remnant that has been scattered to tell them that they will someday return to Him. Exile will not last forever.
The second thing that has placed exile in my mind has been reading Perfecting Ourselves to Death, a book that I was given when I was on internship with InterVarsity Christian Fellowship several years ago. I’ve never thought of myself as a perfectionist to an unhealthy degree, which is probably why I never got around to reading it, but I finally decided it was time to start burrowing into my book pile, and this one was toward the top, partly because I have some perfectionists in my life, and was considering passing it on later. Several chapters in this book struck a chord with me, not as a perfectionist but as a human, and one with a philosophical bent. Most interesting to me was a discussion of the spiritual causes of unhealthy perfectionism--that of knowing we were created for perfection.
“The book of Genesis tells us that when God saw all that he had made, he pronounced it very good (Gen. 1:31). The implication is that God’s creation was perfect until it was marred by Adam and Eve’s disobedience. If this account is really true, then it would not be surprising that we have a memory of, and longing for, that original perfection built into our psyche. The Bible also tells us that we are made for something more than we experience daily in our imperfect, fallen state, and that some day the original harmony and perfection of creation will be restored. So, not only do we have memories of a perfect past, we have the expectation and hope of fulfillment and perfection in the future. J.R.R. Tolkien wrote a letter to his son in which he reflected this longing: ‘Certainly there was an Eden on this very unhappy earth. We all long for it, and we are constantly glimpsing it: our whole nature at its best and least corrupted, its gentlest and most humane, it is still soaked with the sense of ‘exile’’” (Winter 122).
Yum. [Don’t ask me why that’s the first word that comes to mind, except that anything that is comforting or delightful to me is instantly equated with food. : ) That’s why, while I don’t think every Christian has to fast from food regularly, I do.] Anyway, I read this passage right after doing my devotions one lovely weekend afternoon, and was it ever a beautiful combination of words to teach me and heal my soul. Hmmm, was I tired and miserable because I don’t belong in Eagle Butte? No, I was tired and miserable because I don’t belong in this world at all and I needed the assistance of my heavenly Father to get through one more week without being physically in His presence.
Right around the time I finished Perfecting Ourselves to Death, I started True Story, by James Choung, which I picked up at the lovely Bear Trap Ranch this summer. The themes of exile and restoration run through this entire book as well. Caleb, the main character in this book, has been a Christian for a long time, but starts strongly questioning his understanding of the gospel after going on a mission trip and then meeting a beautiful wannabe atheist in one of his classes. On his mission trip, he is involved in amazing ministry and knows he is following in Jesus’ footsteps by serving the poor, but he gets discouraged when he has no converts to report in church and his college pastor seems to be disappointed in him. The beautiful wannabe atheist is very bitter against the church and her family in particular, and she characterizes all Christians as materialistic hypocrites.
Both of these experiences drive Caleb to accept a new worldview, offered by one of his Christian professors. He moves from an understanding of a God who saves souls from Hell one by one and then waits for them in Heaven to seeing that He, as the Creator of the world who saw it fatally damaged by sin, now has a mission to restore all of creation to Himself. Caleb realizes that his job of sharing the “message of reconciliation” (II Cor. 5:19), is so much bigger and more exciting that handing out tracts showing people how to cross the chasm of separation from God. Instead, this commission encompasses every spiritual, political, moral, social, and even environmental evil and injustice. More than anything, he realizes God is much bigger than he ever knew, and that the whole world is longing to be made complete in Him. We all of us are in exile and in need of restoration.
The last thing that reminds me of my exile is my everyday experience in anticipation of Christ’s return. I wish I could say that I look to the heavens every morning and say, “Maybe today, Lord,” but I’m working on that. Even though I love my life and I am excited for different opportunities that may be waiting for me, and even though I would love to have a husband and children or even grandchildren of my own someday, if Jesus were to come back next week, well, would I or could I even consider being disappointed at what I would miss? Pretty sure not. I told my friend Amanda last night that whatever big life experiences I won’t have had by the time He comes back (if it is during my lifetime) will be nothing more than the ride I missed at the carnival or the art gallery I skipped in New Bern. To be in Heaven for eternity with my Savior must be adventure enough!
