Reflections on Ravi

 It really doesn't lessen. The horror, I mean. The shame that, for some reason, rises in my heart - is it my sin? Did I comply in his designs to inflict harm and hurt and pain on the powerless? Why do I feel ashamed? Why do I feel as if I share in that?

His Sin, My Sin (Culpability)

But is there much of a difference, between his sin and mine, between his sin and ours? Is it not only that he had the power and the means, and the scope to exercise them, that I do not have? Is it not only that he had more spiritual clout and control over others that I do not have, that you do not have? But how can I hurl a stone at him - well, easily, simply by casting it. But it's only because he cuts a striking, imposing, large figure against the horizon of our Christian lilliputians and giants - he was a giant, and so it is an easy target. But what if, one day, you or I will gain his stature? Will we make mad grabs and grasps for power at the expense of others? 

I am ashamed, because I don't see the lesson until something like this happens: "sin, when it is fully grown, leads to death" - it is right here, before me, in this death, this sweeping ruination occurring in the hearts of so many who looked up to the man - their confidence in the work of Christ suffers a crippling blow; for some, their faith shatters. But I am ashamed, because in the meantime I indulge my petty, little-grown sins, like feeding some carnivorous animal. Ravi fed his until it devoured him - is not the only difference is that his was fully grown, but mine is still growing? His sin, my sin - what is the difference? Only that mine hasn't matured. But when I see the death, I recoil! But why can't I see it - I massage away the discomfort I feel over my sin by saying "no, no, it's nowhere NEAR as bad as that!" - but it'll grow. It'll grow like his did. "Kill sin, or sin will be killing you" - so says John Owen; but I fool myself into believing it would only harm me. No, no, a hundred times NO - it will destroy so many others. O God, help me to see that his sin, what of it? It is only a picture of what my sin will be when it is fully grown. God save us - may we know our own sin, our own culpability. 

To be Known or Unknown (Accountability)

How did people not know? I mean, isn't that the question - or another question - that floats to the surface of your mind? The report gives the discontented, shame-faced (or I can imagine their faces) admissions of people who say that they had murky thoughts, half-finished, half-spoken, that he was stumbling down a path that was shrouded in darkness, in dissipation, in some devilry - but they didn't know. But isn't that the problem? They didn't know. I'm not casting blame on a person, but - as Gary would be proud that I say - the culture. Culture, that is something we make. What was their culture, their acceptable practices, words, common-currency ideas that they traded in? Ravi did not specialize, it seems, in an ethic of vulnerability, of accountability, of terrifying, searing honesty. The report is clear that when people tried to approach him he exploded into rage at the very thought of his sin being exposed. But isn't that us? We love to project strength, to make it seems as if we are stable - what of the weakness, what of the frailty, what of the misery of our condition as human beings strapped with a sinful self? 

Its so easy to say "he should have been careful" but how about "he should have been careful to always be confessing?" I like the former - it has a comfortable ambiguity, there's a generality about it - my sin finds a corner to hide in with that phrase. But what about the latter? No, confessing is too clear - my soul will have general confessing, or none at all. But no, this spiritual crisis shows the need for deeply interconnected Christian living - if we will not be connected and attached to our Christian family we collapse - like a mast is firmly lodged into a ship, immovable, so we should be infallibly connected to others - otherwise, our sin will sink us. If I will not be known by my Christian comrades, then I will soon bid goodbye to Christians and, finally, Christ himself. God save us - may we know our need for accountability, our need to be known.

You Become Who You Are (Responsibility)

CS Lewis' point, that we are daily becoming creatures fit for hell or heaven (the quote being far more mesmerizing than my dull rendition!) is worth taking in. I can hear the Devil and his songs, songs of slumber, of sleep, of drowsiness. "Its just another leader, another one down," he whispers. "Sit down, cry a while, and die inside. There's no point." The nihilism casually slips in, it numbs my feet and my hands, "meaningless, meaningless," - it makes me unwilling to move forward or move backward. To move backward, I will be a coward; to move forward, I will likely fail. What is left to do then but harden into a monument to unbelief? But this melancholy, it has to give me to the "Today" that Ps 95 speaks of - we are chained to the "Today" and what we do with ourselves today will govern the numbered tomorrows that God our Father chooses to give us. 

My soul will say, "how can I go on?!" and I will reply, "hope in God!"

my soul will say, "How will I be safe?!" and I will reply, "your God will make you to stand!" 

my soul will say, "where to go?!" and I will reply, "you are called of God - the Spirit will lead" 

my soul will say, "what is the will of God?! and I will reply, "He will teach you and counsel you" 

God has promised us that He will be with us - okay then. As Bunyan immortalized, life is taken as a road to be trekked, not simply an endless collage of pictures to be mourned over. Life is about thought that emerges into actions, not half-made thoughts littered about a lifeless body that never moved - life is about thought that emerges into actions. We are responsible to walk in the Spirit and not gratify the flesh, to crucify the flesh, to put to death the flesh - "today if you hear his voice" - it is ever "Today" for us, and you and I, we become who we are. We will never pray for long tomorrow if we do not pray today; we will never read the Bible with zeal tomorrow if we do not begin to read it today. May we use our todays, for at judgment God will, as an accountant, draw up the ledger of our actions done, certainly not those we wished we would have done. Oh God, may I choose you every day - O soul, learn to say, and say with more confidence by the day, "you are good and do good; teach me your statutes" (Ps 119:68). O God, for the sake of Christ's beautiful name in my church, in my community, in my country, let me embrace the responsibility of rigorous, vigilant living for you.

A Hard Walk, A Tender Stalk, A Good God

I can't shake the sadness or the shame. It is a deadweight of despair, dragging me down. How can we be Christians in this age, with all the giants falling down? My David has become Goliath - I almost hang up my hope. No, but I look up and I see him - Jesus. He bled for me, He died for me, He lived for me. I love him, and he loves me - I abide in his unshakeable affection, his power to rid me of sin, his concern for his bride - He will keep us. Like a gardener tends to his garden, so our Saviour tends to his people. 

What if I cry? Then I will cry at his feet, "How long, O Lord?!" It's hard to keep going, isn't it? But Jesus is good, and in the end, everything will be alright - it will be, really. O what a hard walk, and you and I, we are but a tender stalk - but Jesus is our advocate and God the Father, he will be our victory. 

I see my sin - I mourn.

I am unknown - I mourn.

I see my inaction - I mourn.

I see Jesus - all will be well.