change

Early this morning, I dreamed I was sitting in a car dealership, attempting to catch a catnap while waiting for a friend. During a subsequent interchange, we discussed an impending revolution (undoubtedly an implant from having viewed Les Miserables and the John Adams miniseries the last couple weeks). My friend stated with timidity: "I'm not sure that I like the sound of that." I concluded the dream with a well-constructed rant on the nature of change -- how words like "revolution" are words without meaning until we see the threat of change in front of us.

Far be it from me to inspire my own reason, but something this dream Anthony said resonated upon my wake. We hear the word "change" tossed about during political cycles and among philosophical gatherings, traditionally among those young enough to find semi-objective flaw in the constructs that exist. This attitude is neither imaginative nor insightful -- after all, what is today's world but a prior generation's attempt to make change? Some might argue that today's youth have merely adopted in practice the values that their ancestors considered in theory.

Regardless of a generation's motive for change, I've found one axiom to hold weight: as men of flesh, we will not reject a fresh idea that raises our level of comfort. Likewise, a call for change that elicits discomfort will unquestionably be met with opposition.

good change = comfort
bad change = discomfort

And this has always rung true.

Those opposed to the American or French revolutions rarely objected on grounds of the potential good. More commonly, they perceived the good but could not reconcile the level of discomfort necessary to facilitate their vision. The difficulties in declaring our own independence were not due to loyalty for the British throne but by deliberations of fear and loss of comfort -- the untimely threat of war.

I consider what we as Americans protect today -- despite our vision or distant hope, what ideas must we cling to for the preservation of our own comfort? Is it our privilege, our position, our entitlement to own? Do you preserve out of love for your neighbor or fear of loss? When you hear the word "change," do you immediately consider laws that would build a cozier life, or is it accompanied by a responsibility that threatens the fabric of your work, play, family, or faith?

In the past, I had written a great deal about reformation and what it requires of us. I have quibbled over the seeming contradiction between man's thoughts about the church and our practices. Truth be told, I've found few in my generation that would argue against the principles of a reformation -- we can identify the problem. However, we struggle against the forces of bad change: the uncomfortable actions required to proceed under His vision. We cling to a compromised alternative that calls out the brokenness while leaving the walls unmarked, because let's face it, in the end we'd rather grasp pieces of rotten wood than risk a season of reconstruction.

No difficulty is found in making change to ease our comforts. Tolerance is not a change of inclusion nearly so much as one lacking confrontation. To uphold truth and live righteously, we cannot expect change that will simultaneously bring hope for earthly warm-fuzzies. It has never been done... "bad change" must forsake its beastly connotation for transformation to occur.