Something A Lot Like Hell.
One of the most subtle results of our brokenness is our desire to isolate ourselves. Whether that's isolating ourselves in unhealthy introversion, holing up in our homes, or isolating ourselves by hiding in a crowd. The first act of fractured humanity in Genesis 3 is to hide and cover. The warm, affectionate intimacy they shared with the Creator has been shattered. The dynamics between one another have changed. They find themselves isolated, afraid, and ashamed.
There is something essential for us to internalize here. Throughout history, many great theologians have understood hell to be the movement away from God and others. If humanity was created to exist in a robust relationship with God and one another, hell must be some ongoing or final deterioration of relationships. In C.S. Lewis's fictional depiction of hell, The Great Divorce, people exist in eternal movement towards isolation, choosing to seek a life away from one another.
Augustine understands this as a natural consequence of relational distance from God. Our desire for isolation is a direct result of our detachment from God. Isolation cultivates a desire for more isolation. As we move away from the God of love, we become less and less the types of people who enjoy love, ceasing to give or receive it. This progression away from divine love, that is, the God who is love itself, leads to the disintegration of self. Who we are and who we are meant to be is rooted in the God of being. Isolation from that God is our disintegration. Relational seclusion from one another, even if not physical, is often the result of isolation from God. We can be in the same room with someone we hate.
When we think about who we are, what it means to be human, we realize that all life is meant to be communion. We were made to live in intimacy and love with God and one another. We were made to live in Love. Because we live in a fractured state within a shattered world, so much around us pulls us away from communion towards disintegration. The distractions in us and around us drag us towards the non-being of isolation. We are caught in an undertow of sin.
Jesus' invitation into communion with God is no trivial thing. It is the way we are re-made, the way we are reborn, our only resistance against being un-made. And our being re-made is not back out into isolation, but communion. The work of God in our lives brings us to what it means to be fully alive, communion with God and one another. Back safely to the shore of life and love.
Jesus' subversive project called the Church is meant to accomplish this very thing, not in some celestial future, but here and now. It is God's way of tethering us, of regularly washing away the debris of a way of life that swears happiness lies in solitude. When we gather, we enter a mystical re-ordering of things, our hearts are warmed, and we come alive in ways we may not even recognize. Bit by bit, slowly over time, we move from God's child to God's children. When we gather, we become God's Kingdom come, on earth as it is in heaven.
There are three practical ways we combat this isolation. First, we gather. Sunday after Sunday, we leave our worlds behind and join together to enter this mystical picture of heaven on earth, Jesus among us, the Church. Together we participate in proclaiming and hearing the Word and feasting at the Lord's Table. But we also gather with one another during the week. This image of God's kingdom we enjoy on Sundays spills over into real friendships that invade our lives and neighborhoods. We spend life sharing with, praying for, and enjoying one another. And finally, we serve. We give our time, energy, and selves to one another in service for the sake of those around us.
