Lone Diving

There is terror in the dark depths of the ocean. Probably not from a monster that lurks just beyond where light can reach. The loss of sight makes us feel abandoned to whatever elemental forces may or may not be there. It threatens our sense of safety, and autonomy.

Maybe it helps if you weigh several tons, as you dive into giant submerged trenches, salvaging for sources of food. It may help even further, if others of your size dive with you – or if you have sonar. You can speak to each other, and you can navigate the depths without need of sight.

And it is in these depths that you and your comrades find nourishment essential for both survival and thriving.

Imagine if, in a group of whales, half decided to dive, while the other half remained at the surface – and never decided to partake in diving. The half that emerged now rejoin the surface-whales whom they have known their whole lives. The divers share that which they have found in the darkness below with their kin. After all, they are all whales. It remains important for survival and for protection to stick together.

And it is incomprehensible, that the diving whales would simply say (if they had human intelligence): “Maybe the surface whales should die of starvation!”.

How much more would it be so if the whales followed ideals that were heavily weighted in the favor of mercy, charity, and grace? How much more would the lazy whales find themselves in an environment in which absolutely nothing is required of them? How much more would that, in turn, grow in them a sense of entitlement to that which they need and thrive by, but do nothing to obtain?

And how many believers refuse the risks that come with faith – to dive deep, and find in the darkness of uncertainty and pain the things of incalculable value to sustain their growth, and to share with those in need?

Instead, they show up and do nothing of true value. They take up space. They say the words people say in the places people say them. They do things that people do without any sense of meaning. They go to church, get the sermon, or the advice, or the revelation, or whatever. They exist on the surface, and devour what others worked hard to embody and impart spiritually into the community.

They don’t care. Often, leadership of these spiritual communities scarcely do either. Sure they wish that people would try more, but as long as they themselves can be seen diving, and be seen making progress, and is thus celebrated by the worker and the slothful alike, that is good enough – especially if it is sufficiently beneficial to not have to confront the thought that mercy, charity, and grace powerfully conceal: “Are we actually all whales?”

What terror would be unleashed in such a community! Think of it! Even if people have the exact same spiritual physiology, they are now entertaining the idea of defining people by spiritual nature instead: divers and non-divers! If discrepancy exists between those who are identified by their nature, and not by their stated beliefs, or accepted cultural norms, one would be forced into places of suspicion and consequence! Gone in an instant is corporate tranquility and siblingship! Inclusivity itself is suspect! Then the accusations of elitism begin! People are shunned, accused, outcast!

Many might even ask: “what is the potential of our group if everyone actually tried the difficult things in the faith? How much enrichment is wasted on the lazy that could be used elsewhere? How much time and energy would it save the divers that can be used on better pursuits? How much do the slothful cost which we ignore?”

At least whales have an animalistic drive that excuse them from being held accountable for inter-whale violence… Something people who claim Christ have little right to claim or live out – and ought not.

Publicly announcing the presence of the slothful is dangerous. Yet keeping with the status quo may also be entirely too costly to keep concealed. What if people decide that surface dwelling is the better bargain and the correct path to take in life?

 Aside from divine intervention, something simply must be done. Not against any other person, of course, but against nurture from the bonds that hold the community together.

Everyone must (as far as is reasonable), dive alone. No factions need be created. Everyone must navigate with God according to their own ability.

No one should be afraid of doing this, because it will not take long before the surface dwelling find themselves confronted with their own inability. Spiritual and emotional starvation sets in, and they will be forced to either learn to dive, or find a different group to provide for them.

And if it is impossible for the community to go through such lengths, then it behooves every individual to choose for themselves to dive alone, to ferret out how much of that which they contribute is being diluted in value by poorly restrained communal charity. They dive alone to discover how much of the mindset of unchecked generosity has pervaded them. They dive to establish in themselves the capacity and rigidity to NOT share even when the community pressures them to do so with those who have no business with it. They dive alone to spite a predictable torrent of guilt and shame that those divers who espouse “grace” and “mercy” deliver in order to never look bad to anyone. They dive to find out how much of diving is about finding God, and how much of diving is performative flex.

And when they have done so sufficiently, they might find that they might have to find others who routinely dive alone for the sake of clarity of heart and identity, and swim communally anew.