search for faith

When I write, I present myself to someone else on the other side of this computer. The Internet makes it difficult to accurately show you who I really am. In writing, even the term “my audience” has a pretentious imbalance of power latent in the wording.

In writing, even the term “my audience” has a pretentious imbalance of power latent in the wording. Essentially, I cannot give you the real me. I can only give you the “me” I choose to present to you-clothed in my words, my perspective, and my inadequacies.

No, you don’t know me. At least, not by looking at a website. You don’t know me by reading my words. You don’t know me by learning about my likes and dislikes, or my hobbies, or my beliefs in philosophy and theology. And no, even if I told you my history, you still would not know me---because each of these bits of information require a translation from my mind to yours. The process demands me to make choices. I make choices to leave some information out and include others. I make choices to emphasize some things and skim over the details. I innocently make decisions. And in deciding, you lose the “me” in me.

2.

In this postmodern transition, the Church may never realize how our ability to define and create ourselves has expanded. Never before has identity and image been so versatile, temporal, and marketable. Did Church marketing strategies even exist before the 1900s?

We see this flux of image most easily in our American demi-gods, i.e. the celebrities. Yet contrary to the unchanging, unmoved modern concept of God, we worship these titans for their ability to shape shift for one image to the next. They move gracefully from one fashion to another. They glide into different personas and reincarnations.

Pop Queen Madonna (real name: Louise Veronica Ciccone) is the queen of image surgery. With every new album she creates, Madonna reinvents Madonna. Many critics believe this is how she has been able to survive in the entertainment industry for so long. At the core of each of these images, Madonna playfully taunts her fans-as if saying, “You will never know the real me. I may stand with my whole life before your eyes, but you still won’t know me.”

In moments of naked honesty, we all want to be celebrities. We do not fear death. We fear the awesome possibility that someday we will all be mediocre. How do we steal the fire from these titans? We too sacrifice to reinvent ourselves. We must “get a life” and fashion a good image of ourselves to market to the watching public.

3.

For this reason, I am fascinated by websites that merely try to say, “This is me!” How they go about this existential validation is interesting. They will post information, more information, and even more information about themselves. Some sites even have “24 hour webcams,” so we can look into their most intimate details. But this information is just information. The information does not give us a relationship, just a taste of voyeurism.

Likewise, the Church must do more than build websites and send out mailers with information about us. We have to move from an open window to an open door. An open window allows the world to see us, but an open door allows us to offer the gift of hospitality to a curious world.

4.

So what does it matter? Isn’t it just like Generation X to bemoan a fragment self? Isn’t it just narcissistic angst driving an over-caffeinated writer to whine that no one knows “the real me”? But I do worry. As technology increases its ability to transfer information, we build a greater wall to hide behind. Until all that’s left of me is a pre-approved representation of who I want to be. And as the Church, I don’t want to give out facsimiles.

We must first admit the gentle seduction of image-making technology. Anything that denies long-term community life with another person has the potential to strip away authentic relationships. The disembodied quick fix for human contact cannot be a nutra-sweet substitute. We should acknowledge that relationships filtered through image-making technologies are inherently incomplete. If we choose to ignore that current trend, we embrace the life of a hermit with nothing but sentimentality and good intentions as our best friend.

5.

The Fall of Adam shattered the possibility for unfiltered authentic relationships. The fig leaves Adam and Eve hid their nakedness behind symbolize the first filter. “Who told you that you were naked?” (Genesis 3:11) Adam and Eve reject the image of God and seek to re-image themselves with substance of the earth.

Nakedness for Adam and Eve was not merely sexual. It was absolutely relational and without shame. We lost this freedom at the Fall. As an interesting footnote, nudist communities try to deny these norms of modesty for the sake of authentic community, but instead what they produce is merely childish and obscenely destructive. Lust and pornography are sins acted out from a real desire for intimacy. This intimacy shall not be fully realized (on this earth) except under the grace of marriage. In Heaven, people shall not be given in marriage as they are on this earth. Why? Because human intimacy will be made perfect in Christ. No earthly creations, whether fig leaves or Instant Messenger will filter our connection with one another.

Salvation in Jesus Christ not only establishes eternal security in God’s Kingdom, but salvation means identity. We are formed into a community where we are real. More real than this earth can pretend to duplicate.

6.

We should not reject relationships established through image-making technology, such as the Internet. I love meeting people online and over the phone. But these technologies should provide the initial point of contact, not the final assessment of who they are and who we are to them.

In Christ, community should be authentic and un-marketable. We enter into relationships with humility and hope. We should not just hide behind our e-mails, but meet those people. Have coffee. Share life.

One of my best experiences this year was meeting Tom Hohstadt (occasional writer for Next-Wave and author of the incredible book I Felt God… I Think). Tom and I sent e-mails to each other. When I heard he would be in Waco to speak at a conference, we planned to meet and have lunch. Waco is an hour and a half drive from my Arlington apartment. I met Tom and his wife Muriel---both are very interesting people. I’m still discovering more about Tom. But it’s a start. Such steps I believe bless the heart of Jesus who yearns for us to be one, just as he and the Father are one. We begin a journey of discovering God and each other.

You don’t know me, but you might.

David Hopkins, age 23 [http://monkhouse.org/david] is a contributing editor for Next-Wave. He recently graduated from Texas A&M University at Commerce with a degree in English and Philosophy. David has enrolled to Fuller Theological Seminary's distance learning program. David was raised in the Methodist tradition. Although currently, he is a community pastor at Axxess, an emerging congregation within Pantego Bible Church. In his "spare time," David is a high school English teacher. E-mail him at david@next-wave.org.