May 20, 2006
Ramblings on My Daily Devotions
I can think of no better way to start this post than to quote from Charlie Jones’ book Peculiar Favor:
If you’re a member of the Evangelical subculture (conservative brand of Baptist, Presbyterian, Methodist, Bible Church, etc.) then you are well aware of that sacrosanct ritual called the Quiet Time (QT) or Daily Devotions (DD). I will be spending a great deal of time talking about this ritual. I believe that for many Christians it has become one of the primary stumbling blocks to exercising true faith.
Most of us have heard numerous talks, sermons, and bits of advice on the importance of having a daily QT. So for many of us, the QT has become the lifeline that both establishes and maintains our Christian life.
Jones, Charlie. Peculiar Favor. © 2003. pp. 59–60
My “QT” has been a key element of my Christian life for a long time. Its power is weakening, and I’m not sure how hard I should try to resist that trend, or it its hold on me is something I need to let go of. Musing on that subject (and on the value of the QT in general) is the purpose of that post.
First, a little necessary background on my Christian life. I was “saved” at a very young age — somewhere around the time I was five or six years old. My parents had a comic-book Bible that did a very good job (as I remember it) of going through the Bible and telling the stories by means of comics. I pored over this book for hours when I was little and could quote large sections of it verbatim. I wish I could find this Bible again; I’m sure it would have a whole lot of memories in its images.
Later (between eight and nine years old, I think) I started realized that I ought to start reading the “real Bible,” so I petitioned my parents for one. My first Bible was a little red Children’s Bible. I liked the book itself very much; it had a nice cover and it was very thrilling to hold and think that this was my very own Bible. I was, however, very disappointed by the translation; it talked down to me too much. For the next few years, I slowly worked my way up through translations, from the Children’s Version to the NIV to the KJV (very briefly) before finally getting the version I’d sort of been hankering for all along — the NASB. I think this version appealed to me most because it was the version my father read (my mother is a NKJV partisan) and because it had the word “American” in the title. I was a very patriotic (in a rather confused way) boy.
In the interval of upgrading Bibles, when I was eleven, I had a “Teen’s Study Bible,” a NIV with a few color pages with wise advice. It had a Bible reading plan for a year that suggested reading three chapters every weekday and five on Sunday. I set my mind and determination on reading the Bible through in a year, straight from Genesis to Revelation. I actually accomplished it. Ever since that year, the QT has been a part of my life. I was never again consistent enough in observing it to make it through in a year, but I have toured my way through the book three or four times and have made at least as many failed starts (generally bogging down in Leviticus or the minor prophets).
At the moment, I’m midway through Job. I have an HTML file with my daily record extending back a little more than a year to May 7, 2005. It is a measure of this past year’s struggle that I was nearly through 1 Samuel last year. In a year, I have only made it through eight and a half books. At the present time, it’s been slightly over two months since I’ve made any progress at all. I think that’s the longest single break I’ve had in the last decade.
In rather scary (and possibly enlightening) ways, this erosion of my QT parallels my depression. As I have been consistent in observing the ritual, so I have generally done well in the rest of my life. As I have been inconsistent, my life has generally had more imperfections in it. Part of me wants nothing more than to zealously re-dedicate myself to perfect observation of my QT, and part of me holds back. This split in myself is a large part of the whole psychological morass in which I find myself. I feel deeply shamed by my mistakes, be they massive holes in my QT observance, missed homework assignments while I was in school, or wasted days and weeks now. Part of me wants nothing more than to dedicate myself to fixing my record, making it spotless again ... something of which I can be proud.
Then another part of me is shamed again by my pride and perfectionism and speaks against trying to be perfect again. Another voice speaks, one that is deeply tired of trying and failing to get things right, trying to be perfect again. This internal argument has been going on for years, and I know I’ve written about it before, so let’s move on.
I’ve always seen my QT as the cornerstone of a perfect life. If I can just be perfect in that way, it has been my general observation that everything else runs smoothly. By “smoothly,” I mean that I get my homework done, pass my tests, do my chores, and generally get everything on my internal “perfect observance” list done. I’ve spent most of my life in service to this list of things I ought to do. A few years ago, I started to see this tendency as something bad in me that needed to be resisted. To this day, I haven’t yet managed to fully let go of my desire for a perfect record. I’ve managed to let go enough to start an internal civil war that’s thrown me into disarray and uncertainty, but haven’t managed to finish letting go.
I think a big part of the reason I’ve failed to let go is that I’m not sure that I ought to let go ... or even more crucial, that I want to let go. Can I really let go and lay down the dream of being perfect? And, if I do, what then do I do with the rest of my life? If my life isn’t about crossing all the Ts and dotting all the Is, what is it about?
It’s not enough to see my drive for perfectionism as a bad thing and try to stop it ... that’s just like trying to grab the wheel from the driver and twisting it sharply in any other direction than the one the driver is heading for. Do that and you’ll wreck the car (or the life). You must not only oppose the driver, but you also need a new direction to go. If I’m not going to live to be perfect, I need another reason ... and I think I’m still looking.
