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The Red Queen and James 2:18

"Well, in our country," said Alice, still panting a little, "you'd generally get to somewhere else—if you run very fast for a long time, as we've been doing."

"A slow sort of country!" said the Queen. "Now, here, you see, it takes all the running you can do, to keep in the same place. If you want to get somewhere else, you must run at least twice as fast as that!"

Lewis Carroll, in Through the Looking Glass

Sometimes I ponder my fate.

Oh, don't get me wrong, I imagine many, many things will go wrong before I actually die. My life is too secure, I suppose, and the world has some gentleness to it. It's hard not to ask, what if I lose my job? What's next? And if my family dies? What's next? And if I am hungry on the streets?

But what comes after that?

Sometimes I ponder a judgment of my life, because I'm not getting a lot of valuable feedback. And I ponder what I might deserve, if anything, what someone might make of my life, the judgment it might evoke. The mistakes that would have to be set right, and the hurts that would have to heal, to say things are where they ought to be.

I think about those people who say they have a close personal relationship with God. I think about them every day, thinking, well, I've never even met Him. Depending on my mood, that might be accompanied by an impish grin, or a blankness of pure defeat, or tears as I sob.

The world isn't quite the place for me, or many others, I expect. It's a strange place, and I'd like to go somewhere else. And you'd generally get to somewhere else--if you run very fast for a long time. Sometimes it takes all the running I can do, and it's hard not to notice, here I am in the same place.

But I'd like to be the type of person others would be glad to have around. Maybe I'd be invited, someday? So the direction I run is trying to care for others and take care of them the best I can, even if the best I can isn't nearly as much as they need. Even if sometimes I hate that I know... if I was a Sims character I could just tell me what to do and I'd be more of who I want to be, but I'm not that, I'm crying and reading James 2:18 and I'm convinced I'm the only person who understands it.

Because I don't have... what others have. I wish I did, so badly that it burned me up inside. I want the peace, the faith, the inner calm, the feeling of being loved by God. Even a rebuke would be nice, it'd be feedback. But I don't have any part of that, and I don't know how to find it or where to look. I can give up everything to be kind to those in need, to provide mercy for them, even if it ruins my life, I'd be honored to. But I don't have it, whatever it is, that makes... their lives so easy, so full. Sometimes just seeing them, I hate myself for how wretched I am in comparison.

And it's easy to fall into that contempt for people like me. So, so easy. I've seen how churchgoers look at homeless people, and it's nothing compared to the disgust they hold for me. Sometimes they'd tell me to my face, too, that of course they'll tell me no one would ever love me and I'll die alone, but they wouldn't tell that to a homeless person, because it might well not turn out that way for them. A curious thing to hear. And mercy is a strange thing in this world. So I'd like to revisit James 2:18 and help show you that James was far more merciful than the people I find myself meeting.

But someone will say, “You have faith and I have works.” Show me your faith apart from your works, and I will show you my faith by my works.

And in those moments, where I've done all I can, wretched and rejected, and I know somehow I am not enough, that everyone else is beautiful and priceless and I am disgusting and should be destroyed, and I can't have the peace or calm or even connection with God others have, and I'm just hiding at home and crying, James is there. When I say, maybe I am going to die alone and maybe the bishop who said even God would reject me was right. Maybe I'm worthless. But I did some good. Some people got helped, people in real need, and even if I am disgusting, they aren't, and they're preserved because of me, today. That can be enough. I might not have the other things, but I have those works, today.

And James would see me sobbing and praying to be able to help more, when I've done all I can. He would see my faith apart from my works, the remnant. And he would share his heart too, and show his faith through this work we share, bringing mercy to the earth.

Everyone reads it as an admonishment, but there's something pastoral there, even if only for me. If there is an age to come, and my dark night of the soul persists, I want to find him, and take him up on the offer.