Have you ever denied something that, deep down, you know to be true? Have you ever turned from a situation or circumstance in order to avoid the uncomfortable process of dealing with it? Or maybe you have had the experience of keeping a stiff upper lip and pretending that something is not ... well, what it is.
The term we use for this, of course, is denial. We all practice it to some extent or other. Some of us deny the fact that we're a few pounds overweight. Others of us deny the fact that the cars we drive contribute to the growing danger of global warming. Still others deny brokenness and wounds that occur in our most important relationships, leaving the untended hurts to fester and grow worse.
Most of us deny some things, it's true, but have you ever known anyone who has lived their life in denial? Most commonly, we hear of denial in terms of addiction. Addicted people must construct elaborate scenarios of denial in order to continue their behavior and feed their addiction. In these contexts, there are also people who surround the addicted person who deny the addiction as well. "Oh, that's just Uncle Jeff. That's the way he is. It's okay." Deep down, however, we know that it's not okay.
Lives of denial are horribly destructive. Ignoring the true circumstances that surround one's life can have unbelievable consequences. From alcohol addiction to drugs and back again, these unaware lives cast nets of pain and hurt in ever-broader circles. Denial takes many shapes. Some people deny the anger that consumes their spirits. Others deny a paralyzing fear that holds them captive. And some people deny crippling patterns of violence that have been handed down through the generations; an unrequested legacy of hurt. It is a long list indeed.
It can come, as we have seen, to individuals in their corporal lives. It comes also to people in their spiritual journeys; it even comes to whole cultures and nations. In the 1930s in Germany, a whole country was in denial while Hitler's minions slowly but certainly took over the nation with devastating results. Today, at a time of rapidly advancing environmental degradation, many in the industrialized world are in denial. While oceans are fished clean, forests are stripped, and ice caps melt, officials call for more studies to see if it's really happening. Some say that we in the United States live in denial as we blithely consume a disproportionate amount of the world's resources while millions starve.
For us, it is important to understand that denial is not just a willful ignoring of circumstances. It's not some blissful choice for unawareness. It is, in a very real sense, a form of spiritual illness. It is part of a numbing process that turns us away from the holy, from what is true, and what is real. Our history as a people tells us that we simply don't do well without God. When we slip into lives of denial, it's not only destructive behavior or actions that we deny; it is the power of God's healing grace and presence that we deny as well. And for us, just like the people Israel, there are consequences. When we refuse to acknowledge the truth of what is going on, whether it is in our own personal behavior or in the actions of our church or nation, we deny that we are accountable to God for our behavior.
We can take comfort, though, in the fact that some folks have been there before us. Indeed, we might even learn from them. As we look to the reading from Isaiah, we hear one of the most potent pleas in all of Hebrew Scripture — a call for a God experience, for an advent of the Holy from a people who have long lived with a disturbing sense that God has abandoned them. "O that you would tear open the heavens and come down" (Isaiah 64:1), is a plea from a people who no longer feel that God is with them, from a people who "seek God and delight to know his ways" (Isaiah 58:2), but find him not.
The prophet connects God's seeming absence with the lack of righteousness practiced in the community. "You meet those who gladly do right, those who remember you in your ways" (Isaiah 64:5). He reminds the people that they have "become like one who is unclean, and all their [our] righteous deeds are like a filthy cloth." (Isaiah 64:6). One senses, in these words, a profound yearning for a God whose presence is not felt. It is, in no small way, a chicken and egg sort of question. Which came first? The people's turning away in denial of God, or God's apparent abandonment of the people? It brings to mind a pastor who was working with some seminary students who were questioning God's presence. He said, "If you're feeling that God is far away, the chances are that it's not God who has moved."
Even so, when the chips are down, when things go badly, don't we often think of God as having abandoned us first? How many times over years of pastoral ministry have we comforted the broken-hearted and the grieving while hearing the painful claim that God has gone away? Split? Taken leave? The Israelites in exile certainly felt that way. The young mother who has heard from the military that her son died in the war in Iraq feels that way. The person who has lost their job and faces eviction, hunger, and life on the streets feels that way. Even Jesus felt that way, as he cried out from the cross, "Why have you forsaken me?" (Mark 15:34).
Yes, we're in good company when life turns downward and we take it as a sign that God has left us. Yet I wonder, do we really believe, as this scripture suggests, that God hides from people? Does God back off and leave us without help — void of resources or possibilities? Do we think, in our misbehavior, our disrespect, and our downright disobedience, that God responds by taking a vacation?
Or could it be that we have a propensity, a predisposition, and a quiet willingness if you will, to slide into lives of gentle unconsciousness? It does, after all, seem a lot easier when we don't have to confront the collection of life's messes that surround us. Could it be that in our unknowing, we ignore the reality of the holy all around us as we go our way in the world? Could it be that we, like the Israelis of Isaiah's time, do not see or experience God because we do not practice God's presence? And by practice, I mean intentional focus. I mean daily prayer. I mean struggling and striving each and every moment to live life on purpose in the presence of our Creator.
What would happen if we shed the scales of denial that cover our eyes and our hearts, what might we see? What might we feel? If we were to emerge out of the waters of denial, would we see what is going on in our nation? Would we see the slow and steady erosion of civil rights? Would we be able to discern the steady stream of untruth that flows from the mouths of politicians? And seeing it, would we act? Would we speak?
Think of what it would mean to live a life on purpose, fully aware that God is — in fact — right here with us. Present, on "his" way! How would our personal behavior change? How would our spiritual lives shift? What would happen if we opened our whole being to the incredible and growing presence of God? No more denial. No more hiding from God. No more hunching down in the crowd, hoping no one will notice that we might be Christian.
No. We are now standing; we are now rising tall to live intentionally in the sight of a God who comes among us.
It's the first Sunday in the season of Advent; the time of God's emerging, the moment of God's fullness among us. Can we? Shall we? Will we join hands and hearts to remove the deadening layers of denial and live in the truth of God's ever-present love and wonder? Will we stop turning away from God's call?
My prayer this day is that we will move as a community to a new level of awareness. My prayer this day is that we will accept God's great gift of sensitivity over the numbness and denial that permeates our lives. And my prayer today is that as Christ's community awaiting his coming, we will begin anew our quest to not only talk the talk of the gospel, but to walk the walk in Jesus' name.
Amen.