Pits, Towers, Fields, and Dancing

Ecclesiastes is one confounding little quagmire.

Several verses warrant more consideration than I could muster last night in my sleepy fuzz. Here's one:

10:8
"Whoever digs a pit may fall into it."

I find the word "MAY" interesting here because it's so non-committal. It's not: "If you dig a pit, then you'd BETTER expect to fall in, smartypants!!" But rather: "if there's a pit yawning beneath you and you've put time and effort into digging it... you may just fall in."

I think I interpret this to be about toying with sin. Like: boyfriend and girlfriend go further and further physically-- that's digging a pit. In other words: you set yourselves up to fail. If you keep going that direction, boyfriend and girlfriend may very well "fall in" eventually and whoops, there's the sex, and there's the bottom of the pit. THEN what happens? Shame, condemnation, self-flagellation, pointing fingers, myriad complications, and so on. When I think about how hard it was to move on from my last relationship and then I think about what it would have been like trying to climb out of a deep pit on top of that-- holy smokes. Getting over a broken heart just became waaaay harder.

Even the pit-digging process can be damaging though. If there's a pit opening up beside you, of COURSE you're going to start feeling insecure and fearful of potential pain. Because holy moly, there's a pit right there! Boyfriend/girlfriend slip in to an extent and stumble a bit down the side... And pit-digging physicality takes a toll on a relationship because of how much insecurity it unearths. Even the pit digging process, the nibbling of sin-- that in itself can be damaging.

Unfortunately, I have experience in this area.

I think people trying out drugs, or checking out porn, or indulging in self-pity, or what-have-you-- that's sort of like pit-digging. And you MAY or may not fall into the pit-- you MAY or may not get addicted... But the pit's right there and there's a good chance you'll fall in. And even if you don't fall in, the process of pit digging is not exactly productive.

This all is rather didactic. Not exactly in line what what I feel God's been teaching me about grace lately.

This is what I have been learning about the Land of Grace:

Actually, before I talk about the Land of Grace, I should explain about the Valley of Towers.

The Valley of Towers is full of gray skyscrapers labeled "SHOULD" and "SHOULD NOT." There are towers labeled "SHOULD-FEEL" and "SHOULD DO" and "SHOULDN'T-FEEL" and "SHOULDN'T DO." People who live in these towers feel very safe because they know exactly what they should or shouldn't do in any situation. They know this because all over the walls of their tower rooms they have lists: "I should do this; I should not do this." They know when they are doing well because the lists tell them so. They know when they are being bad because the lists tell them so. There are formulas and codes and rules wallpapering those walls, and all the Tower People have to do is follow them. It's nice living in the SHOULD towers because you don't have to think very hard; all you have to do is follow the rules and you can trust that everything will be fine and you will be safe.

Although, sometimes an earthquake makes the whole tower fall over, but that's another blog.

For a long time, I have been living in the Valley of the Towers, and have been insisting that other people live in those towers as well. But I've moved, now, to the Land of Grace, and am doing my best to adjust. It's sort of a scary transition, believe it or not. In the Land of Grace I can't take up residence in any of those towers, nor can I insist anyone else take up residence in any of those towers, because, in the Land of Grace, there ARE no towers!

In the Land of Grace, there are only big wide open fields, and spacious breezes, and barefoot dancing.

This is the thing though: it's far easier to dig a pit when you're barefoot in a field than when you've locked yourself in a tower. if you're way up high in a "SHOULD" tower and you want to dig a pit-- hey, it's possible, but it essentially requires that you jump out of the building. Pit-digging, when locked in towers, is pretty catastrophic-- the fall is SO high and the shame is SO deep, that it's extremely difficult to recover.

That's why people who live in the Valley of the SHOULDs and the SHOULD-NOTs are so adamant about what people should and should not do. They want to make sure everyone has the key to their own rooms and knows exactly how to lock themselves inside. If everyone is locked inside their tower cells, then it's safe and near impossible to dig a dangerous pit.

However.

People get darn claustrophobic in those tower cells. Sometimes, a person gets so desperate for air, they leap from their tower and fall into a pit-abyss. This is devastating because, if they'd had a little more freedom, they never might have toyed with the idea of pit-digging at all.

Let's get back to the fields of Grace, the place of love and freedom.

In the Land of Grace, it's far more complex to discern what one should or should not do, because there are no giant labeled towers; there are no explicitly marked road signs. There are no formulas in the Land of Grace. There is most ostensibly-- just-- FREEDOM. And because of that, it's far more difficult to figure out where to go.

And ALSO because of that, it's easier to wiggle your toes in the dirt, and then pull up a few river rocks, and then dig a little deeper to examine all of the fascinating critters, and before you know it-- you've begun digging a pit.

The nice thing about the Land of Grace though is that it's far easier to climb OUT again. True, we may remember the tower-people who would frown deeply from their perches in the SHOULD-NOT cells; we may momentarily burn with shame, imagining that our fall was far longer, that we are far deeper, that our pit is one of permanent condemnation.

But in the Land of Grace, that feeling can't last long because there is Jesus crouching beside the pit and offering help out. "Don't be scared, little one," He tells me. "I've got you!"

And even if I'm weeping and saying, no, no, it's too deep, He grins and says, "Pits are never too deep in this place."

And even if I insist that I can't get out, then He just shrugs, hops on down into the pit with me, and boosts me out. "You good?" He calls.

Back up on those spacious fields, He's pushed me out into a thatch of bright blue cornflowers. "Yeah. I'm good again," I call with a sniff. "But how are YOU going to get out?"

He floats on up out of the pit, like a helium balloon. Maybe He even does a heel click before landing beside me. I see scars on His hands, His feet, His side, His forehead, and I want to throw myself back into the pit out of guilt.

"Nope," He says. "We'll have none of that here." He adopts an Italian accent for a second. "For-a me, getteeng out of de pitz eez-a no problemo!" He gets serious again. "The debt has been paid darling. You're free. You're loved. Go twirl."

I think that's the important part about the word "may" in Solomon's musing. There AREN'T formulas-- the Land of Grace is more complex to navigate. And that's why it's a dance. Grace is not about adhering to stringent codes or punishing oneself in an isolated tower room... It's about dancing with a partner in a spacious wildflower field and letting Him take the lead.