‘Young Britian 2002 is a schizoid, manic depressive, with bombsite self-esteem and chronic identity crisis, in the deepest grooves of post-modern cynicism. Our status as the most boozed up, drug-skewed, pregnancy-prone wasters in Europe is pretty much unchallenged. A colossal 83% would emigrate Britain tomorrow if they could… 80% believe the government don’t listen to them… And 50% think things are going to get worse’. It’s more popular to have a quarter rather than mid-life crisis now. Still, 50% claim to believe in God.’

Or so concluded a disillusioned poll I read about in ‘The Face’ magazine recently. You may not particularly relate to any of this. You may find it a rather dark and extreme portrayal of the future of our nation. It is. Yet, if we’re honest, everyone experiences some level of dissatisfaction in life from time to time, twenties, thirties, forties and beyond. And as Christians we’re definitely not exempt from this. If a person can feel unfulfilled because they are spiritually dead, how much more poignant can this struggle be in those who are spiritually alive, who know they should feel different, yet still hunger for authenticity?

If as John 10:10 says, Christ in us brings ‘life, and life to the full’, why don’t I feel spiritual most of the time? Why aren’t I the most energized, joyful, fulfilled person on his planet? Why do I find myself stuck doing things I don’t want to be doing, things that don’t seem to bring life, for so much of the time? How come the vast majority of my waking time on this earth seems to have absolutely nothing to do with authentic faith? What does that really look like? Ephesians 1:23 speaks of a God ‘who fills every thing, in every way’, yet if I’m really honest, I’m not sure I know what it looks like to know the fullness of the presence of God in every situation. In church, yes, but what about in the mundane? What does it look like when I’m reviewing for finals and I haven’t had any contact with the outside world all day? What does it look like when I’m washing the dishes or cooking my tea? What does it look like when I’m waiting for a bus in the rain, in a mind-numbing temping job which I have only taken on to pay the bills, or just sitting around the living room watching tv?

Maybe it’s time to redefine our understanding of spirituality. We are a very experience-led society. What I touch, taste, see and feel is concrete. What I experience is real. A while ago a non-Christian mate told me that a Faithless gig was ‘the most spiritual experience’ of her entire life. Was it really spiritual? Probably not. I suspect the gig had very little to do with anything of real spiritual value or eternal significance at all, but more to do with a carefully orchestrated dramatic performance, clever lighting, and expensive visuals and sounds, to create a very deliberate emotional experience. Likewise, U2 are being heralded as the latest heroes of the faith because throughout the recent Elevation Tour they closed each night with a couple of minutes of worship. I’m not denying the significance of this for the band, but what about the stadium full of U2 fans? Is it an authentic spiritual moment just because they have their hands in their air? Are they engaging with God just because Bono is singing ‘Hallelujah. Thank you, Jesus’? Where is their adoration directed? All I’m saying is that we need to engage a bit more critically, to scratch a bit further beneath the surface for some reality.    

Lets stop being so aesthetic. Authentic faith is not an experience or feeling, and we can’t keep compartmentalising our ‘spiritual life’. The very term is non-sensical. Spirituality is not something that peaks and troughs. Neither is it something we engage with through the time we ‘spend with God’. It is something we live out in every moment. We don’t have a ‘spiritual life’, the spiritual IS our life. Every part. If we could really grasp that Christ in us makes every moment of eternal significance, we’d probably be a lot closer to understanding what it is to live out the fullness of life that Jesus spoke of, instead of yo-yoing between short snatched ‘spiritual’ moments and the rest of our lives. God is committed to out-working Christ-likeness in every individual, and we worship not in a meeting but in every moment, through our attitudes and actions. Every moment becomes an opportunity to grow more like Christ. And it is the hard things, the boring, the everyday things, the things we find ourselves doing and wondering why, the things we see as insignificant … which Christ is probably using to build into us something of eternal value, where we are most engaging with the spiritual. If we could really get our heads around this and be open to this process all the time, perhaps we’d have far fewer moments that felt empty or lacking in spiritual relevance again.