Hermit Crabs, Hope and Responding to Despair about the Future of the Church

20+ years ago, a tick bite changed my life. A suspected case of Queensland Rickettsia Tick Typhus following a bout of Glandular Fever took hold and, as my mum describes it, I was ‘felled’. More or less bedbound, and then later housebound for years, I was unable to continue in my dream job as a policy advocate at a community organisation, but ... God never leaves us without a way out. In time, I was able to embark on my new life as an writer, but it wasn't an easy transition.

God Never Leaves Us Without a Way Out

In the early days of my new career writing novels for kids, I was what you'd class as an "emerging author" which basically means that no one had heard of me. Then one day, my publicist rang. She’d managed to wangle an appearance for me on a midday TV panel show called The Circle. Being interviewed by entertainment legend Denise Drysdale would be a great way to increase my national exposure and sell more books – every writer’s dream.

As the day drew near, I started to imagine all the invitations that would follow my appearance – opportunities to be on other TV shows, book festivals, book contracts! And then I got the phone call. The producers were cutting back on book content and had cancelled my segment.

How do you think I felt that day?

You might assume that I was disappointed or that I felt rejected. But no, strange as it may sound, I was actually relieved.

Why did I react that way given writing was my chance to start again; the renewal story I'd dreamt of after my old way of life had been abruptly been cut off?

Telling Jesus off

Perhaps John's account of Lazarus can shed some light on this and other instances in our lives when we reject renewal despite its obvious benefits. This story is very much one of hope and renewal, but it’s not smooth sailing. Several of the characters wrestle with a choice: to embrace hope or choose despair; to open their eyes to a new way of seeing or to remain blind.

A fair way into the story, after Lazarus has died and Jesus is finally back in Bethany, Martha rushes up to meet her friend. The first thing she does is admonish him:

“Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” (John 11:21)

Then, in the next breath, her tone changes completely when she says,

“But I know that even now God will give you whatever you ask.” (v.22)

The Eternal Flip-flop

Look at how quickly Martha goes from despair to hope. She and her sister have probably been dwelling on all the "if onlys" while waiting for Jesus to get back. Then she sees him and her reprimand dissolves in his presence. Then later, when everyone goes to the tomb and Jesus commands the stone be rolled away, Martha switches back again.

“But, Lord,” she says, “by this time there is a bad odour, for he has been there four days.” (v39)

Flip, flop, flip, flop. Hope, despair, hope, despair. Who can relate to this feeling?

Competing Voices: "Listen to me!" "No, listen to me!"

What interests me are the two competing voices inside Martha – one is clinging to the old paradigm of how things have always been, trusting only in what her eyes can see, what has always been the case. But as we know from 2 Cor 4:16-18, God invites us to fix our eyes not on the seen but the unseen. And this is Jesus’ invitation to Martha too.

When I think of my reaction to missing out on the TV show, I see now how those voices were playing out inside me, fighting for supremacy. Once day the voice of self-sabotage might be winning. Another day, it’s the voice of ‘peace-at-any-price’, and yet another day, the voice of despair masquerading as rational thought pops up to share its opinion. And occasionally, the Holy Spirit gets a word in.

The thing is, because we’re human, these unhelpful thoughts aren’t going away anytime soon. So, given they’re here to stay, what do we do with them?

To find a solution, we first have to understand the problem. So, let’s explore three of the many ways our inner voices crowd out hope:

Voice 1 – "It won't work!"

God is prompting us to do something new or perhaps to let something go to make way for the new, when a part of us decides it won’t work so there’s no point. “Look around!” it says. “We don’t have the resources! We’re too small! Too old! Better not to try than risk the pain of disappointment and failure.” So, we give into resignation and despair.

Voice 2 – "I want ..."

A part of us gets caught up in wishful thinking. Wishful thinking is a tricky one because it looks like hope but it’s not. Why? Because it’s not grounded in surrendering to God’s calling. It’s grounded in making us feel safe by investing in an illusion in which everything works out exactly as we think it should. In this fantasy future, there is no suffering. No wonder we're drawn to it. Unfortunately, this is, in fact, artificial hope.

Voice 3 – "Change? Ah! Kill it! Kill it!"

This voice is best illustrated in a part of the Lazarus story that doesn’t appear in the lectionary. It takes place after Lazarus has risen from the dead.

Meanwhile a large crowd of Jews found out that Jesus was there and came, not only because of him but also to see Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead. So, the chief priests made plans to kill Lazarus as well, for on account of him many of the Jews were going over to Jesus and believing in him. (John 12: 9-11)

This third voice turns up when a part of us – quite often a subconscious part – is convinced that change will destroy what makes me, me, or in a group situation, what makes us, us. So, we crush any signs of new life by:

·       blocking new ideas

·       failing to truly welcome in new people

·       neglecting to nourish new sprouts in our lives.

Why do we do this? Perhaps because the process of renewal is inextricably linked to change, and change feels too painful to bear, we squash anything that even hints at renewal. Instead, we align our (false) sense of safety with keeping things the same. It’s a very human reaction; we all do it.

He smells. It’s over.

I believe the reason I was relieved to miss out on a TV appearance was because I was keeping myself safe in my limited but familiar bubble. By keeping my expectations in check, I was protecting myself. By staying small, I felt less exposed, less at risk of embarrassing myself and less uncomfortable.

I suggest this is also why Martha said at the tomb, and I paraphrase, “Jesus, get real. He’s been dead four days. He smells. It’s over.” Without question, it would have been painful for Martha to accept that Lazarus was dead, and yet this conclusion also slotted in nicely with her predictable and manageable world view. To believe that he could live again would require a dramatic shift inside her. She would need to trust in the unseen and the unknown. No wonder, in that moment, she chose to shut things down rather than risk renewal. No wonder we do it too. But as we learn from the Bible:

Even though on the outside it often looks like things are falling apart on us, on the inside, where God is making new life, not a day goes by without his unfolding grace … There’s far more here than meets the eye. (2 Cor 4:16-18)

Given we have these parts of us that want to crowd out hope, what do we do, especially when our inner voices are so very convincing? How do we know when we’re listening to the genuine voice of hope?

What is Respair?

I recently came across a new word that was last in usage in the 1500’s: respair. Whereas despair comes from the Latin “to be without hope”, respair means “to return to hope after despair”. It’s an action; a movement. And you don’t just do it once. We are invited to return again and again to hope in Jesus. It’s a key part of the renewal process.

But how do we do it?

The first step is to ask God to draw our attention to when we are crushing hope, and then to shift our gaze to the unseen truth.

A Practical Exercise in Respair

Find a photo of yourself as a child. You can see one of me below. (Please excuse the home haircut!) Like me, you undoubtedly look very different now. But look again. Your essence – your essential self – remains the same regardless of any changes to your external appearance. When Lazarus was raised from the dead, his life changed – was renewed – but he was still Lazarus. That doesn’t mean he didn’t grow spiritually from the experience. What it means is that deep down inside him, his essential self – his soul – remained constant.

Me, age 3.

We as a church are being invited by God into a process of renewal. And yes, some things will change, but who we are, won’t. The eternal part of us will remain the same for we will always be God’s children.

Hermit crabs* and Hope

Image credit: Hermit Crab. Image by Zoofari, public domain.

To finish, I invite you to contemplate the hermit crab. The crab chooses a shell that suits its needs, but when the crab grows, its needs change and it must find a new shell. It’s an interesting metaphor for the church. Change is inevitable, and with that change, we will need to find a different home and some different ways of doing things. New and different people will join us. We will look different. But no matter what happens to the externals, our essential self remains constant. So, the next time you notice yourself falling into despair, whether it be about the future of church, the world or your personal life, you’re invited respond differently. Practise respair and return to hope in Jesus; a hope that promises renewal and new life.

* Credit goes to Scott Erickson for the hermit crab idea.