Obedience
As a god-wrestling anarchist, the word obedience tends to be my least favorite word in the English language. I have often associated it with rigid puritanical patriarchal moralism. When I was an evangelical teenager, I surmised that “obedience” meant not doing what I naturally wanted to do and doing whatever felt adequately “sacrificial” instead. The way you know how “obedient” you’re being is how against the grain of your natural desire you’re acting.
But there’s a different kind of obedience that isn’t the performative sacrificial puritanism Jesus condemns in Matthew 6. It’s more akin to surrendering to a song on the dance floor and allowing it to move my body intuitively since I’m not resisting the rhythm with any rigidity. It means letting go of my agenda and assumptions so I can be open and flexible enough to discern the subtleties of the spirit’s guidance as though I am dancing through life with an invisible partner who wants to lead me into perfect grace and spin me around in elegant ways that make me look fabulous.
To me, obedience starts with trusting that God’s guidance is always available to me. Not an institution or authority figure or book who claims to speak for God (though mentors and sacred words help me find her voice). God herself speaks directly to me in an incredibly subtle voice if I’m willing to slow down and listen instead of behaving impulsively (which is my default). For much of my life, I have oscillated between trusting that I have a personal, intimate divine guide and worrying that maybe the universe is entirely indifferent to me and I’m completely on my own.
This oscillation happens particularly with regard to my artistic expression. I’ve now released five music albums and three poetry books that by worldly standards have had barely a trickle of an impact. Throughout this process, the guidance I keep receiving is “Don’t force anything.”
I have a hard time trusting that guidance since everything in our capitalist culture says otherwise. I have done very little to promote my artistic work and the results reflect my lack of self-promotion. So part of me chides myself for self-sabotage. Is it really trust that’s guiding me or a fear of rejection that masquerades as trust?
Wrestling with that question and others like it seems like part of the obedience. Because maybe I’ve misheard the voice. Maybe I’m bullshitting myself. Where does the divine guidance end and my interpretation/ego/trauma begin? What’s the difference between divine guidance and demonic possession?
I’ve had experiences where I thought I was following divine guidance and it was really demonic possession, by which I mean I was thrown into reckless, harmful behavior by factors such as hyperfixation, impulsivity, and hidden idols. Augustine defines a demon as the energy created by the worship of an idol, and that definition has stuck with me.
A demon both is and isn’t a real being. It’s a pattern or tendency within consciousness that corrupts and confuses our intuition, blocking the guidance of the divine voice. Addiction is a demon. So is the stock market, or rather the obsessive, anxious energy created by the worship of the stock market. I’ve got a demon that gets stirred up whenever I experience social rejection, demanding that I go to war.
My demons throw me into the fire over and over again until I learn how to distinguish their voices from the voice of God. In general, the more high and mighty I’m feeling, the more likely I’m possessed by a demon rather than guided by the divine voice. Especially if I’m feeling hateful and judgey towards someone else. But God doesn’t let me stay in that state for a long time. Because when I’m high and mighty, I get smacked down pretty quickly and I usually have wise friends available to talk sense into me.
In that sense, I see the demonic as having a positive role to play in the journey of discerning God’s voice. I think this is what scripture means when it talks about God “handing us over” to our sin. God always offers wisdom but lets me crash and burn when I’m hell-bent on doing so in order to get the stupidity out of my system. My intuition is purified of its demonic corruption by the lessons I learn from getting thrown into the fire.
As long as I stay humble and introspective about the lessons I receive, I am able to return to the gentle voice of divine guidance after each bout of stupidity. I’m coming to realize that being in sync with the guidance gives me a much deeper sense of belonging than anything else. Obedience actually feels good. And again, the real thing is not a nervous, eggshell walking performance of puritanical sacrifice. It’s patient deep listening that grows more and more grounded and less and less susceptible to the immature outbursts of my demons.
As we walk through a very difficult, chaotic season in our world, I have decided to trust that someone who can see everything is quietly moving her chess pieces into place to enact a movement of liberation more gorgeous than seems possible from each of our individual vantage points. I do not have to be the hero of the story. My task is to listen and obey the guidance I receive so that my dance fits perfectly amidst millions of bodies who are being guided through love’s choreography of liberation.