A few weeks back I spent some time thinking through (and writing about) the invitation to participate that is inherent in parables. Christ is asked a question. Christ answers with a story. The "asker" must apply himself (or is invited to apply himself) to the question of "what in this story addresses my question...answers my need?"
Last week I was able to listen to a good friend of mine as he presented a message entitled, "The Restoration of Masculine Sexuality" to a men's group. It’s interesting to be in that room as a variety of men struggle to interpret and apply a heady message such as that. I can guess, with 25 some-odd men listening, that circumstances ran across the spectrum from "in desperate need of rescue" to "casually interested but in fairly good shape," and all points in between.
My friend is a huge fan of film. He even refers to movies as "modern parables." And I agree. During his presentation he showed several clips, not as illustrations of a point, but as launching platforms for new perspectives on masculinity, on rescue, on beauty. I spent the 90 minute presentation both drawn into his material and separately observant of the other men in the room. For the most part they seemed stalwart - hopefully intent on absorbing information to the exclusion of interacting, but perhaps in some ways opposed to what they were hearing (I've gotten encouraging reports since the event that lead me toward the former, by the way).
As we watched these clips together, the men and I, and listened to my friend invite us all into a deeper understanding of God the Father's hope for our lives as men, I began to realize another aspect of parables that has intrigued me in the days since. I've already pointed to the parable as an invitation - but I hadn't realized, until now, how strikingly accountable we are each forced to become for our own response.
I don't want this to become confused with some kind of invitation to the altar or anything. I've come to new terms with this idea of "once and for all," you can be sure. I mean to say that I’ve learned to differentiate the start of a journey from the journey itself. You can certainly start on a journey "once" but if your time ever after is spent simply re-starting, you aren't really journeying at all. But I digress...
Isn't it amazing, back to my point, how the process of extending an invitation shifts the weight of accountability fully to the invitee? If I explain things in detail, step-by-step, through process, I seem to have mounting accountability for the transfer of my explanation to my listener. I can check - test, even - to see if the information is understood and assimilated. But when I invite someone to participate, through a film clip or a story...a parable, I am only responsible for the invitation - the remaining onus ("what do I make of this?" "why is this important?") rests squarely on the hearer...the seeker, so to speak.
I suppose this idea intrigues me most because, whether writing or speaking, I feel a burden to translate my ideas in a relevant way that impacts those who will listen. To begin to acknowledge where my responsibility might end in this regard is a powerful concept for me. Many people I know, pastors, part-time speakers, teachers, often get caught in a performance struggle: "Did I say that right?" "Did I make the best case?" And I'll often hear people settle back to a hoped-for truth that "God will make what He wants from it" as they seek to lay that responsibility down.
I'm beginning to pick away at the inkling of an idea that this responsibility was never really mine to take up.
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