It was the year when the Olympics were held in London. What a golden, silver and bronze summer it was, untarnished even by the three week monsoon prelude that made us fear a washout. Nothing could dampen the atmosphere of exhilaration that the games bought. The nation, by and large, happily succumbed to sporting fever as we enjoyed delirious days like Super Saturday, the like of which we may never see again. But even before the cosseted flame was finally extinguished, commentators were chattering nervously about post-Olympic depression, fearing that when the games went dark, our national mood would turn gloomy too. ‘I can’t believe it’s all over’ one television pundit lamented, fighting tears. And the athletes had to face the harsh fact that, for most, the pinnacle moment of their lives was now confined to the rear view mirrors of their memories. Dubbing the after-games hangover as POSD (Post Olympic Stress Disorder), the glumness that follows glory was summed up by one athlete: ‘Ordinary life is a lot different than viewing the world from the lofty vantage point of Mount Olympus...nothing feels like it can go back to normal’.
Something similar can happen to believers when they’ve attended a Christian camp or conference, or worship celebration. When the lights dim in the venue and the worship team has packed up and gone home, the time comes to embrace life as usual again. Life after a Christian knees-up can feel decidedly dull.
Of course, some grumpy souls insist that the event culture creates irrelevant, frothy jamborees, muttering that they prefer to stay home to continue at the coalface of serving their communities. Bah, humbug. Surely the Lord has always called his people to gather at feasts and festivals, because they help us to gather around God in co-joined faith, remember who we are, immerse ourselves in the big story, recalibrate our values, celebrate, and recommit.
That said, some returning pilgrims do get mugged by the blues. Worshipping in that tiny, out of tune congregation accompanied by that rickety, out of tune piano is not as thrilling as praising with thousands. And, much as we’d like to, we just can’t take that famous, renowned worship home, stand him or her in the corner of the lounge beside that rather strange lampshade, and yell, ‘Give us a tune, pal!’ every time we feel a little morose.
But there’s a truth that we need to face if we are to make friends with our more mundane days, which is what most of our days are. It’s a fact that I’m nervous to state, but here goes:
Jesus is not always exciting.
Some Christians insist that Jesus is endlessly thrilling, and therefore those who are friends with him should experience an endlessly exhilarating jaunt, a hop, skip and jump from one supernatural experience to another. I don’t believe it.
When Jesus was on this earth, he certainly provided some thrilling episodes. Marble-cold corpses suddenly took possession of a pulse. There was that in-your-face encounter with a screaming demoniac, which led to deliverance for him, and drowning for a herd of stampeding pork. The trio that was Peter, James and John witnessed metamorphosis on the Mount of Transfiguration. Blind eyes blinked and opened. All heady, exhilarating stuff. No, Jesus certainly isn’t dull; he is fascinating, intriguing, and surprising. As Einstein famously said, he is the luminous Nazarene.. But his friends didn’t always find him exciting. Hungry for the thrills of fame, prestige and power, two of them asked him for thrones, one at his right, one at his left - and he turned them down. His invitation to them to Gethsemane was to an endurance test - and they yawned repeatedly and fell asleep. Life with Jesus frequently got difficult and exhausting. One time the disciples affirmed their commitment to him with a shrug-the-shoulders sigh of resignation: ‘To whom shall we go, you have the words of eternal life?’.
Now, we do not walk with Jesus as they did, but rather navigate our days by faith. Yes, there are breakthroughs. Answers to prayer. Episodes that seem to sparkle with divine intervention. But the bible is clear: faith is not just about miracles, but also the miracle of endurance, when we feel little or nothing, when God seems very distant, but we trust anyway. Let’s resist the myth that our emotions must always endorse our worship, that our feelings will always add an amen to the truths we affirm. The gospel is not true only when I feel that it is.
And being addicted to excitement is immature. If someone said that they were only committed to a marriage as long as it remained exciting, we’d tell them to grow up. But when a Christian says that they’re moving church because their ‘spiritual thirst is not being satisfied, they just need more excitement’, we bow to their assumed spirituality. We need churches that can be boring, because life often is, filled with people who are committed to each other, and are not just together for the thrills and chills.
God give us grace to be Olympian believers, who know that the stadium event is but a fractional moment, but that most of life is about running marathons in the rain, doing what’s right rather than what we want, and being faithful during the duller days when no one, save One, is applauding.