A Good Mystery . . . Revisited

One of the CDs I've had on my wish list for almost two years now is Bruce Cockburn's most recent effort, Life Short Call Now. I nearly always have a short wish list of CDs that I eventually want to get my hands on. It would probably be a longer list if I had more time to experiment with music and if I was being exposed to a wider variety than I am right now. But, needless to say, as a busy husband, father, and pastor I don't have the luxury of time and money that I once did as a college student to funnel more financial resources toward entertainment and cultural enterprises. I probably procure two or three CDs a year on average so, yes, I am shamefully behind. So when I saw Cockburn's album for $9.99 yesterday, I couldn't resist.

Now Cockburn is an interesting character. While he likely wouldn't fit any remotely evangelical mold, he has described himself as a Christian or at least as someone who believes in Jesus Christ. Many of his songs are permeated with biblical allusions and imagery. There is a definite and specific spiritual bent to his music, one that forms a more hopeful counter-balance to his often caustic and angry political observations. On Life Short Call Now, as on his last studio effort, You've Never Seen Everything, America's involvement in Iraq and its war on terror provides much fuel for the fire. I don't know that I would necessarily agree with all of his politics, I do resonate with his more spiritual ruminations.

One of the songs on his latest, "Beautiful Creatures," is a meditation on the disappearance of anything resembling goodness in the human species, and sounds like a reflection on the fall of man, lamenting the loss it represents: "Like a dam on a river/My conscience is pressed/By the weight of hard feelings/Piled up in my breast/The callous and vicious things humans display/The beautiful creatures are going away." Despite our innate sinfulness that results in the evil that men do, there is still a flicker of transcendence and mystery for those of us with eyes to see and so it might be better to say that if we are monsters that we are good monsters.

But the song that really struck is the third track on the album, "Mystery." And having heard it makes me wish I had heard it in advance of my previous post (Hence the title of this post). In it Cockburn sings, "You can't tell me there is no mystery/mystery, mystery/You can't tell me there is no mystery/It's everywhere I turn/Infinity always gives me vertigo/vertigo, vertigo/Infinity always gives me vertigo/And fills me up with grace." One gets the definite impression that it's this sense of mystery that keeps him afloat whilst facing a world filled with despair, violence, and greed. Amidst all his sharply barbed political observations (diatribes?), one wonders if these observations are informed and shaped at least in part by the instinct that the world and the way that it is is a violation of this very mystery and the truths to which it points.

Sometimes poets and artists have way of expressing truth that is simply lost on the rest of us. A sharp turn of phrase, the clever use of words, and the power of an infectious melody can sometimes say more than volumes of philosophy. This is especially true of mystery, which tends to elude explanation and definition, and requires revelation and inspiration. Some of the most prophetic voices of Scripture are poetic voices and it needs to be said that a book of the Bible's literary genre is not accidental to the truths they express but is an intrinsic part of it. Admittedly, for those of us more interested and more comfortable with prose, this too is something of a mystery. But thankfully it's a good mystery and thankfully there continue to be artists and poets who give voice to this mystery. Otherwise we might never hear the truth as we are meant to hear it.

A Good Mystery

I'm not much of a fiction reader, so most of my fiction comes from film and television. Yes, I can concede that this might be a poor man's substitute, but, as I already said recently (see my last post), I like watching TV. Enough with that. My point here is that more specifically a lot of the shows I watch are mysteries or serial dramas, ones that end each episode with a cliffhanger or unresolved story and therefore have the ability, to a greater or lesser degree, to hook you. In the best (or worst??) case scenario such shows might be described as addictive. One example of this would be 24. That this show is potentially addictive is not much of a surprise given that every episode occurs in real time and ends at the end of every hour. This, quite possibly, is both a pro and a con when you have the DVD set and are not watching it from week to week--there is no reason to wait for the next episode; you can watch the next one right away! However, this does lead to the occasional late night . . . So such shows are best reserved for occasions when rising early isn't required the next day! The point is that while I don't read mysteries I do like watching them.

Now when I say mystery, I mean something specific too. Take The X-Files, for instance. Here's a show that counted on its stories being unresolved and on having an overarching mythology that often raised more questions than answers. Such a method of telling stories reflected a key belief on the show, that there are mysteries in life, unfathomable phenomena, that escape the explanatory power of science and reason. To resolve every story and answer every question is tantamount to saying that there are no mysteries inherent in life, that there is nothing beyond what science can tell us.

I think what is attractive about such stories is that we love that there is mystery. It's like the poster on Special Agent Fox Mulder's office wall says, "I want to believe." We want to believe that there is more to life than what we can see with our eyes and touch with our hands. Such possibilities, whether it's the possibility of the existence of extraterrestrial life or the possibility of the existence of God (for me, of course, this is more than a possibility even if it remains a mystery in its own way), promise us meaning and purpose, a way to define ourselves beyond the mundane routines of everyday life. It's no wonder that the producers of The X-Files often liken Mulder's search for proof of alien life to the search for God. Both are mysteries that bring life meaning. So no wonder shows like this become so popular in a world where people long for significance and identity, purpose and direction. Or even just a good mystery.

But, you see, the odd thing about shows like The X-Files, Lost, and others, is that the more questions they answer and the more mysteries they resolve the less satisfying they are. That's when the writing begins to show weak spots. While adept at posing the questions and identifying the mysteries, they are often profoundly inept at providing meaning to the mystery and giving answers to the questions (even if they remain entertaining). Once the mystery gives way to explanation, we often find ourselves profoundly dissatisfied.

So as entertaining and well-produced as any TV show might be, no such show can really provide a person's life with meaning. While they serve as a corporate sponsored reminder that there are mysteries in life, they can no more give us purpose than Dr. Phil can dispense sound, life-changing counsel in short segments between commercial breaks. Though people seek meaning there, even if unconsciously. Hence the large number of fans that absorb and analyse the details of such shows in hopes of cracking the code. It takes more than a good mystery to do that. It takes the best mystery, the only one that truly satisfies. That's the mystery we have in the Bible.

In Ephesians the apostle Paul talks about this mystery and how he had been entrusted to make this mystery plain to everyone: "I became a servant of this gospel by the gift of God's grace given me through the working of his power. Although I am less than the least of all the Lord's people, this grace was given to me: to preach to the Gentiles the boundless riches of Christ, and to make plain to everyone the administration of this mystery, which for ages past was kept hidden in God, who created all things." The apostle here refers to the gospel of Jesus Christ as a mystery. He is saying that until the advent of Christ into the world, the mystery of God's plan was a secret, known only to God himself. He says something similar in Romans. And in Colossians Paul comes right out and says that this mystery is Jesus Christ.

Most people want more than they have. Life doesn't provide automatically a deep, satisfying sense of meaning and purpose. Lots of people wander through life feeling the weight of the world and of the ultimate questions without ever really landing on an answer that quells the thirst and satiates the hunger. This, I think, leads to a sense of loss, but without telling us what it is that we've lost. "My heart is restless, oh God, until it finds rest in You," prays Augustine. We enter this world with a gaping hole in our hearts, one that is, unbeknownst to us, God-shaped. So we try with all our might to fill this hole with any number of things, and usually these things only serve to feed the hunger and increase our thirst. At the very least satisfaction is temporary.

The mystery of God, that there can be wholeness and redemption, fullness of meaning and purpose, has been revealed in Jesus. God's plan in Christ is to disclose his means for saving human beings from their sin and brokenness so that we needn't spend any more time wandering and wondering, lost and directionless, like a ship drifting on the sea. That God-shaped hole in our heart can only be filled by Jesus, for in him the fullness of who God is and what he is up to has been made known.

The big difference between the mystery presented in various TV serial dramas and the mystery of the gospel is that while the presentation of the mysteries in such shows is usually more compelling than any answers they can give, the opposite is true of the good news. We spend our lives consciously or unconsciously looking for answers to life's mysteries, wanting to experience the deep satisfaction that comes when we discover meaning and purpose for ourselves, and it is only when we find our heart's true home, in Jesus himself, that we are satisfied. It's the only mystery that, when revealed, is more compelling than the questions we ask and the attempts at seeking meaning we make. That makes our faith in Christ not just a good mystery, but a great one, the only one worth truly being revealed to us.