the ruins of an ivory tower

Recently, I started realizing something about myself as others spoke to me.  The words spoken to me were inconsequential…and so were the speakers for that matter (at least for this discussion).  Instead, it was the manner in which these words were spoken that opened my eyes.  Without going into detail, I had many speak to me in ways that were rather condescending.  It was like throwing a mirror in my face for words that I’ve said over the years to other people.  I was in a position of knowledge (or, at least, perceived knowledge), and I attempted to posture myself over another in order to not simply refute, but effectively destroy the other person.  I do this a lot…and I’m sorry for any I’ve done this to.

My recent discovery was not just people speaking to me.  Once the eyes were opened, I began to see the subtle but destructive beast of condescension all around me.  It happened across and within generations, genders, ethnicities, and economic levels.  It saw no color, gender, faith, or social status.  What I began to see was this:

Condescension is just another form of judging others.

Here’s the kicker…everyone who spoke to me and around me with flares of superiority and judgmental words were all Christian…every last one of them.

That is not to say that the virus of self importance only infects the casual or fervent pew-sitter…not at all.  My expectations were simply higher of those who claimed to know Christ, so their interactions stuck out to me as they thrust the mirror of the law before me.

Back when I began seminary, excited for what God was going to do with me, I vividly remember one of the faculty members addressing a hall full of new students.  I don’t remember all of his speech, but at one point he referred to Seminary as our “ivory tower experience”.

This reference was meant to be a good thing.

Apparently, he wanted us to embrace being totally right about all things theological.  We were going to be “locked away” for 4 years, studying theology, wrestling with the doctrines of God, and it seemed that we were somehow supposed to think that our thoughts were higher than others’ thoughts in matter of life, God, and spirituality.

I almost dropped out right then and there.

I stuck it out (thankfully), and I realized something along the way…this is how pastors are trained.  We are trained to be “right” in theological disputes  and to defend your rightness with all of our being.  We would often get into heated theological debates around campus, in the classroom, and, sadly, even in blogs as we attempted to squash our theological opponent.  I’m pretty sure that this is close to the standard seminary experience.  Often it wasn’t the content of what was being defended that irked, rather, it was the posture behind it.  It didn’t look like the apostles who fervently proclaimed the simple truth of Jesus Christ risen from the dead.   Instead, it looked more like the talking heads of cable news who liked to puff out their throats like a bullfrog in order to win a debate.

These men are now teaching about life in Christ in the church all over the world.

As a result, we use insults when we should just be listening.  We judge when we should be trying to empathize.  We put ourselves upon the throne that Christ rightly won because it’s easier and it’s what we’ve been taught.  But assuming everyone is an idiot who you have been sent to save is making yourself the Messiah and everyone else your creation…and that’s never a good idea.

“Judge not, that you be not judged. For with the judgment you pronounce you will be judged, and with the measure you use it will be measured to you. Why do you see the speck that is in your brother’s eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye? Or how can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when there is the log in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take the speck out of your brother’s eye. Do not give dogs what is holy, and do not throw your pearls before pigs, lest they trample them underfoot and turn to attack you.” (Matthew 7:1-5)

I love this passage because it reminds me that how I judge others, God will use the same measuring stick in His judgment of me.  This doesn’t mean that humility and empathy are an attempt at self-preservation, rather, it’s bringing others the joy of God’s forgiveness that I enjoy daily.  I also love the imagery that Jesus uses with the wood…it’s harsh, but comical at the same time.

What really hits home for me is that final proverb that he closes with,Do not give dogs what is holy, and do not throw your pearls before pigs, lest they trample them underfoot and turn to attack you.” The pearls he speaks of are God’s people…the ones HE made holy through His grace.  He says to not throw them out to the dogs…or destruction, because they will be destroyed.

When we condescend, we tell others that they are not beautiful pearls, dearly loved by the living God, created with joy, and washed clean by the blood of Jesus.  We’re telling them that they are pig slop…unforgivable…unredeemable…unloved.  The only thing an ivory tower is built for is to be a platform for casting pearls to pigs.

C.S. Lewis describes the posture Jesus describes in this text quite well in his poem “As The Ruin Falls”

As the Ruin Falls

All this is flashy rhetoric about loving you.
I never had a selfless thought since I was born.
I am mercenary and self-seeking through and through:
I want God, you, all friends, merely to serve my turn.

Peace, re-assurance, pleasure, are the goals I seek,
I cannot crawl one inch outside my proper skin:
I talk of love –a scholar’s parrot may talk Greek–
But, self-imprisoned, always end where I begin.

Only that now you have taught me (but how late) my lack.
I see the chasm. And everything you are was making
My heart into a bridge by which I might get back
From exile, and grow man. And now the bridge is breaking.

For this I bless you as the ruin falls. The pains
You give me are more precious than all other gains.

Our planks are large…lumber yard sized, in fact.  And we do not have the power to remove them…but Jesus does, and has chosen to remove our plank and hang upon it that we might live.  This is his grace for you, and this is the life you’ve been given.  Our God is in the business of tearing down ivory tower, and raising us up with His dearly loved, humble, and self sacrificing son, Jesus.