The Fullness of God

Here is the angel of the world's desire

Placed on trial

To hide in shrouded alley silhouettes

With cigarette coiled

To strike at passing voices

Dark and suspect

Here is the howling ire

- King Crimson, "The Howler" (Beat, 1982)

~*~

As the story goes, during the recording of the King Crimson's 9th studio album, Robert Fripp gave Adrian Belew a copy of Jack Kerouac's On the Road and a handful of other works from the Beat movement to read for lyrical inspiration.  One of those works in particular, Allan Ginsberg's "Howl," became the direct influence for "The Howler," the second to last track on the album.

In the fashion of the Beat movement, "Howl" is a building rage against oppression and the treatment of the downtrodden.  As Ginsberg put it in "Notes Written on Finally Recording 'Howl,'" the poem was a lament for the youthful "Lamb in America," sacrificed to ravenous society - a society which Ginsberg likened to the pagan god of the Old Testament, Moloch.  The Beat Generation was a post-World War II movement notably characterized by its experimentation with drugs, alternative forms of sexuality, interest in Eastern religions (especially Buddhism), and exuberant means of self-expression.  As a result of their radical philosophy and overall conduct, the Beat poets essentially became the subject of their own works -- the ones downtrodden by mainstream society.  Twenty-five years later, King Crimson's Beat commemorated Kerouac's On the Road and referenced a number of other Beat-era writings, in celebration of the artists' passion, vision, and vitality.

Interestingly, while Belew's lyrics can be understood to sympathize with the plight of the outcasts Ginsberg glorified in "Howl" (even assuming the guise of the angel on trial in the final lines of the song), there is intentional distance between singer and subject -- perhaps in recognition of coming judgment, perhaps out of a sympathy that can understand but not fully empathize.  Either way, "The Howler" concludes with the following lines: "Here is the sacred face of rendezvous / In subway sour / Whose grand delusions prey like intellect / In lunatic minds / Intent and focused on / The long thin matches / To light the howling fire / No, no, not me / Burn, I don't wanna burn."

I think there is an interesting parallel between the lyrics of "The Howler" and Paul's letter to the church at Colosso (here we go -- spiritual application from progressive rock).  In the larger context of discussing the new life of the believer, Paul encouraged his readers to "put to death what is earthly in you" - or "put on trial," as Belew put it - in order to put on righteousness (Col 3.5).  While the aims of the Beat Generation were perhaps admirable, their pursuits were unquestionably driven by the carnal type of knowledge which Scripture regards as "earthly, unspiritual, and demonic" (Jas 3.15).  Their lifestyles were unfortunately more Romans 1 material than Galatians 5.  King Crimson's Beat walks the neutral path as far as Kerouac and Ginsberg's lifestyles are concerned, simply seeking to convey the message they began.  Modern generations are increasingly interested in the plight of the oppressed.  The mantle which Ginsburg donned in "Howl" -- purporting himself as the voice of the voiceless, the "great minds of my generation destroyed by madness" -- certainly finds similarities in Belew's echoed sentiment.

To a Christian, the type of depravity which characterized the personal lives of the Beat Generation poets is idolatry in its most obvious form: idolatry of the self, idolatry of one's own sinful passions.  It is glorification of the lusts of the flesh to their fullest realization.  While their desires to create new and unique poetry and to speak out for the marginalized are certainly worthy ambitions, the Beat Generation's godless approach reveals the condition of their hearts.  It's an easy diagnosis.

Sadly, while it is always easy to spot sinfulness in the world, it can be comparatively difficult to recognize the pet sins in our own lives -- those things which we simply don't want to give up, which keep us shackled to this world and hinder us from fully realizing our role as God's new creations (2 Cor 5.17).  Even as believers, we can still cower in the "shrouded alley silhouettes" and "strike at passing voices" whenever they come close to uncovering our hidden wickedness.  This is why Paul, desiring completeness for all believers, insisted that we put to death the passions of the flesh and be filled with the Spirit instead (Eph 5.18).  If we want to know that satisfaction, we need to forsake our sinful desire to remain in our old nature, to which we are no longer enslaved, so that we may be "rooted and grounded" in the love of God instead (Eph 3.17).  But the only way to be firmly planted in this love is to uproot one's self from the world first.

Therefore, the question I want to pose is this: what "angel of the world's desire" do you still harbor?  What idol do you need to put on trial (and ultimately condemn) in order to fully embrace Jesus the way He intended?  As modern-day believers in Christ, do we "know the love of Christ which surpasses all knowledge" so that we may be "filled with all the fullness of God?" (Eph 3.19)

American Christianity has fragmented the love of God into less of a pursuit than a compromise.  Instead of seeking, we settle.  Instead of achieving, we accept.  Our focus of joy and pleasure should be God Himself, and were that true, our worship would reflect it.  But instead, we settle for the lesser, temporal pleasures of this world, augmented only by an optimism-raising acquaintance with Jesus.  As John Piper puts it in his book, Desiring God, the problem besetting Christians is not that we are unsatisfied, but "far too easily pleased.  The enemy of worship is not that our desire for pleasure is too strong, but too weak... We have accustomed ourselves to such meager, short-lived pleasures that our capacity for joy has shriveled. And so our worship has shriveled."

During the abolitionist movement in pre-Civil War America, William Lloyd Garrison founded his anti-slavery newspaper, The Liberator, a weekly circulation that -- over the course of its thirty-three years of circulation -- would earn nationwide notoriety for its uncompromising advocacy of "immediate and complete emancipation of all slaves."  In the publication's first issue, Garrison famously wrote, "I will be as harsh as truth, and as uncompromising as justice... I am in earnest - I will not equivocate - I will not excuse - I will not retreat a single inch - AND I WILL BE HEARD.  The apathy of the people is enough to make every statue leap from its pedestal, and to hasten the resurrection of the dead."  Partially in response to criticisms he'd received for being so vocal on the issue of slavery, the passion with which Garrison delivered this creed was further fueled by the fact that the people around him who also shared his anti-slavery sympathies were not doing anything to support the abolitionists.  Whether for fear of their own reputations or simply out of halfhearted devotion, Garrison's contemporaries were reluctant to throw their weight so heavily on the side of emancipation.

Not coincidentally, Jesus had said something to the same effect some 1800 years earlier.  During the triumphal entry into Jerusalem, the Pharisees -- probably fearing Roman intervention -- demanded that Jesus silence his followers from praising Him so uproariously in the streets.  Probably with a sad smile at their ignorance, our Messiah replied, "If they were to hold their tongues, the rocks would take up the cry instead" (Luke 19.40).  Our God will be glorified, whether we praise Him or not.  Nature proclaims His handiwork even when we are preoccupied with our own.  The point is this: when we tolerate our sinful habits and allow them to callous our hearts, we are effectively silencing ourselves.  We are no longer overcome with joy at the coming of the Messiah the way the disciples were.  Lest we forget, sinful habits are not simply acts of commission -- swearing, stealing, getting angry; sin is also omission -- laziness, poor stewardship, selfishness.  Perhaps we desire to accomplish good things the way Ginsberg did.  Yet, if we also practice wanton living, mentally or physically, our lives cannot be testaments of God's love.  Our ambitions have become worthless, our worship has indeed "shriveled," and the rocks and statues are mumbling as a result.

The sad thing is that, in so doing, we completely miss the greatest blessing God offers: Himself.  We become distracted by other things we think will satisfy, and our passion for righteousness becomes secondary to our passion for entertainment, emotional fulfillment, success.  The enemy of love is not hate, as is popularly understood.  The enemy of love is apathy, because it is the lack of passion.  When we grow apathetic in our Christianity, we fail to truly understand the promise God gives in the Scriptures -- that He alone is our source of completeness.

When Jesus told the rich young ruler in Mark 10 to sell everything he had and follow, He was telling the man to get rid of everything which could potentially come between him and his relationship with God.  In other words, Jesus was telling him to lay down his idols -- to pull them out of the "shrouded alley silhouettes" and put them on trial.  But instead, hanging his head, the man walked away.  Clearly, his desire for God was swallowed by his desire for his possessions and his status.  He was too easily satisfied with what the world had to offer him.

Again, it is very easy to point out the man's problem -- after all, his story in the Bible is a perfect object lesson for spiritual priorities.  But are we really doing any better?  Instead of earnestly seeking after righteousness, we compartmentalize our faith in order to allow ourselves the American freedom of pursuing earthly ambition.  As Derek Webb put it, we need to repent of our "pursuit of America's dream," of "confusing peace and idolatry" by craving our own comfort and our own preferences ("I Repent," I See Things Upside Down).  We certainly make room for easy ministry and Sunday attendance, but our day-to-day lives are lacking in true heart-worship.  We like to feel comfortable, content, and safe in our spirituality, and so we justify and give the minimum effort.  We think we're doing well if we pray before meals and display our optimistic smile to the strangers we pass, but in reality, we are only cheapening the love of Christ by not letting it consume our lives.  When our lives revolve around our schedules and not around Him, we take God's love for granted and consider it less of a treasure than it truly is.

In his book, Radical, David Platt argues that in so compromising the nature of our Savior's love, we are "molding Jesus into our image," or conforming Him to our expectations -- as Webb termed it, "domesticating You until You look just like me."  Albeit unintentionally, we make Him look exactly like us because "that is whom we are most comfortable with," Platt continues, "and the danger now is that when we gather in our church buildings to sing and lift up our hands in worship, we may not actually be worshiping the Jesus of the Bible.  Instead, we may be worshiping ourselves."  This is the type of idolatry that is hardest to recognize -- especially when we ourselves are the perpetrators.  By reducing Jesus to a white, middle-class American who only requires a regular tithe and kind gestures, we are worshipping our own halfhearted ideal of what our faith should represent, and not the Jesus who would ask us to do hard things -- certainly not Savior who brings us completion.

Let's return to the story of the rich young ruler.  In regards to this passage, Platt writes: "Jesus was not trying to strip this man [the rich young ruler] of all his pleasure.  Instead he was offering him the satisfaction of eternal treasure" - a better, fuller treasure, with intrinsic and everlasting joy!  The second half of Jesus' invitation is that, after selling all he had to the poor, the young man would have "treasure in heaven."  Unfortunately, not unlike the rich man, we want immediate gratification -- not the promise of future reward.  What we fail to recognize is that fulfillment is not something we have to wait for until we get to Heaven.  God, in His infinite wisdom, has blessed us now with "every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places" through the person of His Son (Eph 1.3).  This directly correlates to the parable Jesus told the disciples of the treasure hidden in a field.  When the man in the parable stumbles upon it, he immediately sells all he has in order to purchase that field, just so that he can obtain the treasure -- a treasure which was worth more to him than everything else he owned (Matt 13.44).

That is Jesus to us.  He is something worth losing everything for.

For a mature believer, the love of God will naturally become the chief goal and the only treasure of his life.  Idolatry is a sin which takes place within the heart (Ezekiel 14.3, 4, 7; Jas 4.2-3; 2 Cor 10.5), and we do it when we value anything more highly than we value our Savior.  After all, it is impossible to serve two masters, because we will inevitably love one and hate the other (Matt 6.24).  But seeking after lesser things can only be temporarily invigorating (Ecc 2.10, 11).  Newton's Second Law of Thermodynamics (the law of entropy) doesn't just apply to the physical things in this world: it also applies to our ambitions -- love, success, reputation.  These things will die and fail us, and if we pursue anything less than to be constantly filled with the love of Christ, the fullness of God, we are merely striving after the wind (Ecc 5.16).  But on the other hand, if we are passionately seeking the love of God, we will never be empty.  We have been given the same "living water" which Christ offered the Samaritan woman in John 4, after all.  Instead of keeping it corked in a bottle, to horde (via head knowledge), we should drink and be full (via heart application).  As the Psalmist wrote, "Taste and see that the Lord is good.  Fear Him, you His holy people, for those who fear Him lack nothing" (34.8, 9).  This is more than just a statement of God's provision.  This is a statement about true enjoyment.

Barnes' commentary on the New Testament records the following: "We may aspire to being filled with all the fulness [sic] of God. We may long for it; pant for it; strive for it; pray for it--and we shall not strive in vain. Though we shall not attain all we wish; though there will be an infinity beyond what we can understand in this world, yet there will be enough attained to reward all our efforts, and to fill us with love and joy and peace. The love of God our Saviour is indeed an illimitable ocean; but we may see enough of it in this world to lead us to adore and praise God with overflowing hearts."  Nothing else but the love of God can truly fill our hearts to the point where they overflow.  Nothing else but God's love is big enough, and nothing else can satisfy.

How about you?  Do you insatiably desire more of Him or are you allowing yourself to settle for lesser things?  Do you truly want to be satisfied, or are you content with the things that will pass away?  For the Beat poets, life became a study in wanton living, dissatisfaction, and endless searching.  But for the believer, the treasure which will bring our lives meaning is fully at hand.  However, we can't simply take hold of it: it must take hold of us.  It must consume our entire beings, our hearts, souls, and minds (Matt 22.37).  Only then are we able to be joyful, thankful, wholehearted worshippers of the Father.