Looking to Restore My . . . Soul

There is a commercial on the radio these days by a local auto dealership which is trying to drum up some business for its service department.  The service manager says that he figures the world is divided up into two types of car owners: those who bring their vehicles in for regular servicing, changing the oil, refilling the tires, inspecting the brakes, checking the fluids, etc., and then those whose vehicles only come in on the back of a tow truck.  He is happy to see them either way, but those who come in for regular servicing end up paying a lot less and have their cars last lots longer.

I think that in some very real ways the church is to battered souls what that auto dealership service department is to the vehicles they sell. 

You see, I think many of us attend faith communities  because we know that our souls are battered and bruised, depleted and run down, and we know that we need at least the regular tune-up, if not a complete overhaul.

Others go because they have neglected the regular nourishment and care of their soul, and yet have somehow sensed that this might be the last stop, the way-station of last resort, the one place where that healing which they may have all but given up on might be found.

And often what unites both kind of folk, the ones who come in for regular maintenance and the ones who come in with their soul hooked up to the back of a tow truck, is the idea that perhaps it is there that we will learn how we can restore our souls.  That if we can manage our busy schedules enough to get here, if we can make it to Bible Study or adult education or a retreat or a mission trip, then we might manage to restore our souls.

            Joan Chittister recounts an ancient story about the spiritual life which may be of use to us here:

A young monastic came upon an elder one day sitting among a group of praying, working, meditating people.

“I have the capacity to walk on water,” the young disciple said “So, let’s you and I go onto that small lake over there and sit down and carry on a spiritual discussion.”

But the Teacher answered, “If what you are trying to do is to get away from all of these people, why do you not come with me and fly into the air and drift along in the quiet, open sky and talk there?”

And the young seeker replied, “I can’t do that because the power you mention is not one that I possess.”

And the Teacher explained, “Just so. Your power of remaining still on top of the water is one that is possessed by fish. And my capacity for floating through the air can be done by any fly. These abilities have nothing to do with real truth and, in fact, may simply become the basis of arrogance and competition, not spirituality. If we’re going to talk about spiritual things, we should really be talking right here.” (“Wisdom Distilled from the Daily”, pps. 1-2).

            The internet, the bookstores, the entire world is full of those who offer one fad after another which all share the promise that if we would just sign on and follow their program we will have all the answers to the struggles of life. And church can be no exception, telling us that the path towards spiritual wellness lies through meditation, or mastery of particular prayer practices, or attendance at specialized retreats, or some sort of Lenten study program. And just as fad diets more often than not fail to deliver on their extravagant promises, so too more often than not these spiritual fads fail to deliver what people who are looking for a new perspective, new meaning, and new hope are yearning for. 

As the ancient story reminds us, our souls will not be restored “out there” somewhere, and not through our efforts alone.  Restoration of our souls is not something that we do, but is something that is done for us, and it is done where we are. The psalmist tells us not, “I restoreth my soul”, but “He restoreth my soul.”

Maybe this is one of the greatest arguments for infant baptism. Look what happens: a child, far too young to have any intention about it, far too unformed to even have a conception of wanting to be ushered into a new community and a new life, is washed cleaned and refreshed and renewed and empowered though the waters of baptism.  So too we need do nothing to have our souls restored. This is grace, a free, unmerited gift that our Good Shepherd offers to each and all of us: “He restoreth my soul.”

            “He restoreth my soul”, and so might end a worthy – but inadequate -- sermon on the 23^rd Psalm.  You see, the soul is not restored as an end in itself, so that one might lean back in the recliner, put up one’s feet, and with a contented sigh settle in comfortably for the duration. 

Life is a journey, not a destination, and the restored soul is expected to renew the pilgrimage. For

·        there are paths of righteousness – roads of right-living -- to be walked;

·        there are valleys of danger to be negotiated, for peace and justice and abundance for all will not come in on their own and unopposed;

·        there is a table at the last to be looked forward to;

·        and there is that final safe harbor at the end of the day, where one might dwell in the house of the Lord, all this life long, and forever. 

To the run-down, depleted, un-nourished soul, that journey might seem at best terribly daunting. To a restored soul, a soul refreshed and renewed and empowered, that is an invitation to a journey of a life truly worth living.

            This is the Good News for each and every one of us. He restoreth our souls; and he sends us out into the world to be, in our own turn, his good shepherds, bringing healing and nourishment and care and justice to God’s sheep wherever they might be found.

He restoreth our souls, so that, in our turn, we might be restorers of the world.