Compunction

Easter is the celebration of the event that constitutes the foundation and centrality of our belief and knowledge of Jesus Christ and God. It is the crux of humanity and the reason for our salvation. And even though two statutory holidays are given to us for this time, most people find it difficult to invent ways to celebrate it. The best our depraved society can deal with it is to throw a bunny on a poster and encourage you to buy chocolate eggs? What does that have to do with God sending his son who dies condemned to death and then rises from the dead? (Just a little of my own frustration coming out here).

A few days ago a renowned teacher, who I respect and am growing to appreciate more and more, proposed the idea that compunction (or pain of the soul) is the desired means by which God moves us towards intimacy with himself. That on our journey of life that we all must travel, not only can you not escape compunction and pain, but that it is actually thrust upon you through life's circumstances ... maybe on purpose ... by God who loves you. This compunction, as I understand it, comes in many forms. We all experience it. Most commonly we experience compunction as the pain of longing - we all long for something/someone. It is a pain because it is a need that is not fully met or filled. And as there are many types of travelors, there are as many ways of attempting to alleviate this longing and pain.

We are MOVED by God through pain. Through 'unfullfilledness'. The ancient Jews saw all aspects of life as given by God, for good reason. Job replies to his wife's despair by saying, when all his world had fallen in around him, "... Shall we accept good from God, and not trouble?" I wonder if we ought not to spurn the pain of our hearts by shaking our fists at God, but to contemplate the truth behind the pain. The reason for our compunction. For that which pricks us to travel. For we do not move ourselves close to Jesus; Jesus moves himself closest to us through the greatest pain imaginable - death. Through his own great compunction, an unresolved relationship with us his loved creation, God allows a separation of his own, a pain so unbearable it is unimaginable to restore what was broken.

I wonder at times if there is perhaps much more to the phrase: "I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the fellowsip of sharing in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, and so, somehow, to attain to the resurrection from the dead." That in sharing in Christ's sufferings, we accept the 'pains' God thrusts upon us as loving prods towards greater knowledge and intimacy with the Creator of all.