Ashish Joy

The world is chang­ing, mov­ing for­ward, unac­cus­tomed to the fan­cies and whims of minds and hearts dis­af­fected. The moments and sea­sons of yester-year fraught with pain and sor­rows, some­how for­got­ten and pushed away. There was and is noth­ing that could not have and would not have hap­pened that did not hap­pen. The world is a flow­ing river of dis­con­nected and bro­ken real­i­ties stream­ing together to form a tor­rent of inevitabil­ity that frays the con­fi­dences and plans of many. The world still con­tin­ues on amid the chaos and brokenness.

Every­thing and yet noth­ing, some­thing caught in the wrin­kle of per­spec­tives on either side of promises and hopes, a doc­tri­nal corol­lary of hold­ing to a sta­tus quo def­i­n­i­tion of moral­ity. Con­tra­dic­tions face the human soul from all direc­tions. There are too many ques­tions that require too many answers, and to begin to account for the moti­va­tions of those ask­ing or answer­ing is com­pletely beyond us.

Life is the unseen force that moves us in time, car­ries us with emo­tion, pushes us towards a cer­tain aware­ness, and yet some­how is beyond us. We begin wide-eyed with won­der hop­ing to be and do some­thing with our lives. We find our­selves in the lat­ter part of our jour­neys, with a deeper aware­ness, being some­one and doing some­thing, and we are con­founded by the jour­ney. Some­where in the mid­dle of our jour­ney we hope to find some­thing of value to latch our hopes and dreams and our beliefs and aspi­ra­tions towards.

We are grains of sand in the hour-glass of life. We find our­selves await­ing that excit­ing plunge or remem­ber­ing it. Yet we are mere actors in the story that unfolds before us. We have our beliefs and con­vic­tions, those things we would give our lives for, but for­get that maybe not every­thing we believe in is true and right. We become arro­gant fools, so sure of per­spec­tives on life that we wage mean­ing­less bat­tles with oth­ers around us. Some­times though our beliefs and con­vic­tions are right and true and nec­es­sary. We become wiz­ened sages in bring­ing a new per­spec­tive to some­thing or some­one that des­per­ately needed a re-imagination. So we may be yet fools and sages. We are how­ever most pre­ten­tious when we think we have under­stood the world com­pletely. In so doing, we reveal our­selves to be pride­ful, unap­proach­able, and close-minded.

So what to do when hopes and dreams are a faint whis­per silenced by the cho­rus of the way things are? I haven’t found an answer to that ques­tion yet, but I have a sus­pi­cion that it has more to do with how I affect change in my lit­tle cor­ner of the world.

There’s some­thing to be said about liv­ing life and not just talk­ing about it. I haven’t writ­ten for some time now for a whole host of rea­sons. Not enough time to ded­i­cate to writ­ing, maybe not enough pas­sion for it… the excuses are numer­ous and well-reasoned. But to be hon­est with you, it’s been more about some­thing so much deeper and mean­ing­ful. I’ll try to explain.

Some­times we get to cer­tain points in our lives when we have all the infor­ma­tion, all the ideas, all the dreams, all the hopes…that we could pos­si­bly have. I for one process and think and pon­der and phi­los­o­phize with the best of them. The real­ity of thoughts and ideas how­ever, is that they have no bear­ing or sig­nif­i­cance unless and until they are lived out in one’s life.

Truth is mean­ing­less until the impli­ca­tions of that truth is evi­dent in that truth-bearer’s life. Doc­trine and The­ol­ogy is mean­ing­less until it becomes alive, as the hearer becomes the doer. In the same way, I am a bearer of ideas, hopes, dreams, pas­sions, beliefs…etc. There have been times where I’ve talked to friends and they’ve told me, “Ashish, you need to step out and do what you’re talk­ing about; stop talk­ing about it and just do it.” This is the place of ten­sion I find myself.

The con­tent and pas­sion of writ­ing has brought me to this point, where my truth and belief with sor­row and imag­i­na­tion, must trans­late into my lifestyle in action and suf­fer­ing. There is no point for me to write about Incar­na­tional Chris­tian­ity if I am not able to prac­tice what I preach.

As Peter Rollins argues it, “I aspire to believ­ing in God,” where the answer to the inher­ent ques­tion of one’s belief is pre­sented not only in word but in deed, not only vague ideas and con­cepts, but in trans­for­ma­tive action and suffering.

We must be the liv­ing epis­tles. There is an inter­nal­iza­tion of faith that affects us from the inside out.

I think this is why Paul rou­tinely writes about Christ liv­ing in you…

To them God has cho­sen to make known among the Gen­tiles the glo­ri­ous riches of this mys­tery, which is Christ in you, the hope of glory.

And John’s epis­tles also speak of this…

It has given me great joy to find some of your chil­dren walk­ing in the truth, just as the Father com­manded us…I am not writ­ing you a new com­mand but one we have had from the begin­ning. I ask that we love one another. And this is love: that we walk in obe­di­ence to his com­mands. As you have heard from the begin­ning, his com­mand is that you walk in love.

And this is where I am at in my faith. I want to walk out and live out and illus­trate the impli­ca­tions of life lived wholly for Christ. I don’t feel I have the right to keep writ­ing about the trans­for­ma­tive power of such a thing if I am not in some way aspir­ing to live this way.

So what I’m try­ing to say, in long-winded fash­ion, is that I want to live to make a dif­fer­ence. I don’t have to shout it from the rooftops; I just have to get out and live it.

As we embrace the sto­ries we find our­selves in with sor­row and imag­i­na­tion, we are con­sumed with raw pas­sion and energy. It is a change in our moti­va­tion and under­stand­ing. It leads us towards a response and protest that find iden­tity in some­thing well thought out and heart­felt. Response and protest are a fun­da­men­tal part of both, embrac­ing the story, as well as becom­ing a part of the story. Embrac­ing the sto­ries we find our­selves in has every­thing to do with us adapt­ing. Becom­ing a part of the story how­ever, has every­thing to do with how we cre­ate within our environments.

It is one thing to embrace the story we find our­selves in and under­stand the how, why, what, and even the when. It is quite another thing to speak out, cre­ate some­thing, and pro­vide some­thing that is not already there. As we are affected the world we find our­selves in, we must also become a part of the story in our response and protest.

We must begin with sor­row and imag­i­na­tion, and from there we must move to action and suf­fer­ing. Sor­row helps us under­stand the chaos and mis­un­der­stand­ing of the world; imag­i­na­tion gives us a hope in a future that is not present. Action is the ful­fill­ment of under­stand­ing and moti­va­tion in response and protest. It is where we know who we are, why we are, and what we are sup­posed to do.

Action is when we move for­ward into the real­ity we find our­selves in. It is where we sor­row over a bro­ken real­ity and imag­ine a new real­ity of some­thing bet­ter and greater. Suf­fer­ing is where action has taken you to the point of no return. Suf­fer­ing is where you incar­nate the out­work­ing of sor­row and imag­i­na­tion in your given real­ity. Suf­fer­ing bridges the world that was, the world that is, and the world that could be. Suf­fer­ing is sac­ri­fice for those who are vested in their cur­rent real­ity, but for those who respond to the cur­rent real­ity and protest towards an imag­ined real­ity, it is a joy and privilege.

The per­son who acts and is will­ing and ready to suf­fer, might become a cat­a­lyst for trans­for­ma­tion. In many instances, trans­for­ma­tion never hap­pens because the envi­ron­ment it orig­i­nates from reab­sorbs it’s focus, it loses col­lec­tive rel­e­vance and is wholly for­got­ten, or it becomes the seedbed for future trans­for­ma­tion. How­ever, if it is valid and it cap­tures the sor­row and imag­i­na­tion of that envi­ron­ment, trans­for­ma­tion is entirely pos­si­ble. At that point how­ever, there must be a guid­ing voice for it’s follow-through.

Trans­for­ma­tion hap­pens when the thoughts, feel­ings, and emo­tions of a col­lec­tive envi­ron­ment find mean­ing and pur­pose. It is organic and mirac­u­lous, not con­structed or dis­trib­uted. It is caught and imparted, not learned or under­stood. Trans­for­ma­tion dri­ves at the under­ly­ing pas­sions and dreams of the con­stituents of a given envi­ron­ment. Trans­for­ma­tion is never eas­ily under­stood, but it is eas­ily observed. You real­ize when it comes and goes, and know when it is short-lived or long-lasting; but you can­not repro­duce it’s process from one envi­ron­ment to the next. You can only observe and inter­pret the trans­for­ma­tion in context.

We all see the world in a unique light. Our col­lec­tive voices add depth, clar­ity, and beauty to our human­ity. If we are ready to embrace the story we find our­selves in with sor­row and imag­i­na­tion, if we are ready to become a part of the story and cre­ate through action and suf­fer­ing, we will trans­form our world and change it.

As we find our­selves embrac­ing the story, we must find our­selves securely lodged in the moment. Instead of the tran­scen­dence of the grand nar­ra­tive, we need to look closely at the numer­ous sto­ries we find our­selves in. If we are caught up in the grand nar­ra­tive of exis­tence, we may become aloof and indif­fer­ent to the rise and fall of the imme­di­ate sto­ries we find our­selves in. We become dis­tant observers in a world that demands our being, doing, and relat­ing. We become good at ana­lyz­ing what was right and wrong; we work all the angles; yet some­thing is miss­ing in all of this. We slowly unlearn how to be, do, and relate in the here and now; there is no one, no thing, no cause, no pas­sion that we put our­selves toward. We lose our abil­ity to respond and protest because we do not wish to act. In all of this, we man­age the sto­ries we find our­selves in and fit them into our ‘greater-story’ par­a­digm. We lose touch with reality.

To fully engage the world around us, I would argue that we need to have sor­row and imag­i­na­tion. These should be our fun­da­men­tal moti­va­tions in our response and protest.

Sor­row has a reac­tive power in that it empow­ers peo­ple to feel again. In some of the sto­ries we find our­selves in, peo­ple have lost the abil­ity to feel and crit­i­cize their present real­ity. Sor­row has a way of bring­ing to the sur­face the inher­ent emo­tion asso­ci­ated with pain and loss. Imag­i­na­tion is a proac­tive power in that it allows peo­ple to dream again. Some­times we are too caught up in the real­i­ties we find our­selves in and can­not believe in an alter­na­tive real­ity, let alone believe it to be pos­si­ble. Imag­i­na­tion has a way of build­ing hope of a bet­ter tomor­row regard­less of the present sit­u­a­tion we find our­selves in. Sor­row and imag­i­na­tion require honesty.

There are too many who do not sor­row; they live in their world of indif­fer­ence and pos­i­tiv­ity; they ignore pain and suf­fer­ing whether it be their own, or it be some­one else. When we do not sor­row, we are not hon­est, and when we are not hon­est we too eas­ily deceive our­selves. There must be room for sor­row in our sto­ries. It makes us human and allows us to align our­selves to a world in need of com­fort and care. We are approach­able when we are able to sor­row with another person.

There are many who do not imag­ine; they are stuck in their present real­ity; either they are sati­ated by their real­ity or they have become numb to the strug­gles and chaos they face daily. Imag­i­na­tion is only pos­si­ble when one under­stands their present real­ity is not their home, but that they are con­stantly mov­ing for­ward in time and space. Imag­i­na­tion allows you to adapt to a chang­ing world. We must always have room for imag­i­na­tion in our sto­ries; if not we get too eas­ily caught up in the pain and suf­fer­ing we encounter in our sto­ries. Imag­i­na­tion allows you to see the impos­si­ble and move towards that reality.

A life with­out sor­row, is a life with­out hon­est emo­tion. A life with­out imag­i­na­tion, is a life with­out a futur­ing hope. Sor­row keeps us grounded while imag­i­na­tion keeps us on our toes. When sor­row and imag­i­na­tion work together, we find our­selves fully embrac­ing the sto­ries we find our­selves in.

There is a world in need of peo­ple who would bear Christ and his king­dom to the ends of the earth. To fur­thest cor­ner of the nations of our world, to the for­got­ten cor­ners of our cities and towns, Jesus is look­ing for a dis­ci­ple will­ing to believe the unbe­liev­able, attempt the unat­tain­able, and achieve the unachiev­able. The Christ we fol­low is one of infi­nite, imag­i­na­tive poten­tial. His work, his Cross bears us up to go fur­ther than we’ve ever gone before. We can believe beyond a shadow of a doubt because it is the Maker of all Cre­ation we’re talk­ing about. Christ lives in us and moves in and through us; our lives must move with him. His heart beats for lost, the dying, the bro­ken, the weary; our hearts must fol­low in tune. We must bear up this Christ to a world in des­per­ate need.

To move beyond a shadow or a doubt, to believe in the God of all pos­si­bil­ity, to take this hope we have in Christ to all… This is what we must seek to do with our lives. To be instru­ments in his king­dom, to be used as he so desires, to sur­ren­der our will to his will, to be con­sumed by this Jesus we pro­fess. Where he is not just a thought or emo­tion, but is part of our very being, doing, and relating.

To be Christ’s hands and feet, to be Christ’s tears and com­fort, to be will­ing ves­sels used for his honor and glory. There is a dying world plead­ing for Christ to be revealed, not just in thought, under­stand­ing, or kind words. No. This king­dom must be revealed to a bro­ken world in hum­ble power, incar­na­tional truth, and redeem­ing love.

The world waits for us to move beyond the good ideas or ran­dom acts of kind­ness… It waits for us to live this trans­form­ing mes­sage of Christ and his King­dom. It waits for the Christ-follower with redemp­tive sor­row, imag­i­na­tion, and action. The world waits for those who have aware­ness and humility.

There are count­less sto­ries being writ­ten of pain, loss, suf­fer­ing, bro­ken­ness, and the brunt of human deprav­ity. As recip­i­ents of Christ’s redeem­ing story, we must embrace the sto­ries we find our­selves in. We must shine our lit­tle lights on the story Christ has writ­ten on our hearts, and in doing so point their sto­ries to Christ’s story.

My heart is bur­dened for the weary and the bro­ken… They are numer­ous in my city, lurk­ing behind every frown or smile, attempt­ing to live a full life, while run­ning on empty. They are cry­ing, des­per­ate for the mes­sage of Christ.

Will we bear up Christ to our world?
Will we move beyond our com­fort zones?
Will our lives speak of Christ and not our­selves?
Will we give it all for the sake of Christ?

If there were no road­blocks, what would we believe for?
What we would we attempt for the sake of Christ, if noth­ing stood in our way?

May we con­tinue to sor­row, imag­ine, and suf­fer, as we bear up Christ to our world…