His Continuing Mission…
I love a good behind-the-scenes story, and the first volume of The 50 Year Mission was just that for a Star Trek fan. In it, the reader got to see the convergence of actor and character as Leonard Nimoy developed Spock's famous, "Live long and prosper" Vulcan greeting directly from Nimoy's heritage in Judaism. Nimoy defended Spock from caricature and settled into identification with the iconic creation with his famously evolving pair of autobiographies, from I Am Not Spock to I am Spock. As much as actor and character merged, the book relates that Nimoy once broke down emotionally on set during a relatively ordinary writer's meeting. Even for one who embodied Spock's logic so professionally and so convincingly, human emotion had to go somewhere.
The members of the 4077 on M*A*S*H understood this as well. Veteran Army nurse Margaret Houlihan remains coolly professional while reconstructing boys mangled by combat. Even her periodic acerbic bluster seems under a plan for timed release. She is dumbfounded, then, when she begins to sob uncontrollably at the discovery that the camp mutt and mascot has been killed. Surgeon Hawkeye Pierce is her usual adversary, and just as detached in his own way, but even he knows what Nimoy's breakdown on the Star Trek set revealed. Human emotion, notwithstanding professionalism or carefully maintained persona, has to go somewhere.
My lessons in human depth and fragility from two TV classics have been recently reinforced by my favorite voice, my own. In last week's installment of this blog, I noted my willingness to come up with the right quote, the right nugget of wisdom for someone's problem – and stop there. Even the Bible, I admitted, can be mishandled with such a mentality. Take two verses, and call me in the morning. Or don't. I have to devote my time to inhaling aphorisms rather than relating to people as I find them.
And yet, twice over this week, I proved that I am slow indeed to deal gently with the human condition. Someone whose bravery I've observed and benefited from over decades confessed fear in facing a new situation that is dear to us both. I didn't have to find an appropriately sympathetic facial expression. This was a text. I could even choose from multiple possible responses in order to reflect back something approaching true human empathy. Instead, I put her, our, problem through a flowchart that was some combination of biblical command and Vulcan logic. Within a couple of minutes, I seized the word fear and retorted the response that we, as Christians, are to fear nothing and pray about everything. Far from hearing, far from helping, I was cheapening what no doubt has been a steadfast, impassioned prayer life over the last three weeks. Whiff.
Maybe the Instant Appraiser would do better with anger. One of the most gracious people I know served me up an opportunity to deal with it in another impassioned text this week, and I once again failed to connect. Since the texter and I have both cared passionately about the issue that was beginning to anger her after years of growing weary, a supportive response should have been easy. If I needed the cover of someone else's words, I could have even quoted Scripture in support of righteous anger when wrong or tepid advocacy occurs. Instead, I actually thought through my response and wrote out that her understandable anger was making OUR burden heavier. Anger bad. Harder for me. Next.
By a work of God's grace, both of these people are still in my contacts, and still in my life. By a further work of God's grace, He has been showing me what grace in action looks like in a manner even more purely distilled than classic TV. In Luke 10, the Holy Spirit readily diagnoses that Jesus' questioner was TESTING Him Who needed to pass nobody's test. If we miss that, the Holy Spirit is likewise plain in weighing and this guy finding him wanting as the interaction with the patient Son of God continues. Even under Christ's ongoing forbearance and tutelage, the Holy Spirit says the questioner wanted TO JUSTIFY HIMSELF. Clearly, the Lord saw these motives from the beginning of the conversation, even the beginning of time. Yet, wonderful, Counselor that He is, He keeps the ball in play. He chooses to expose, confront, and often to heal over time. His diagnoses are unerring, but he doesn't skip to the bottom line. He dwells WITH men, and women, and uses an interplay of emotions, distractions, and even errors for His greater glory. He directs rather than stifles human emotion. As He knows better than His impatient spokesman spitting out bullet points, emotion has to go somewhere.
The members of the 4077 on M*A*S*H understood this as well. Veteran Army nurse Margaret Houlihan remains coolly professional while reconstructing boys mangled by combat. Even her periodic acerbic bluster seems under a plan for timed release. She is dumbfounded, then, when she begins to sob uncontrollably at the discovery that the camp mutt and mascot has been killed. Surgeon Hawkeye Pierce is her usual adversary, and just as detached in his own way, but even he knows what Nimoy's breakdown on the Star Trek set revealed. Human emotion, notwithstanding professionalism or carefully maintained persona, has to go somewhere.
My lessons in human depth and fragility from two TV classics have been recently reinforced by my favorite voice, my own. In last week's installment of this blog, I noted my willingness to come up with the right quote, the right nugget of wisdom for someone's problem – and stop there. Even the Bible, I admitted, can be mishandled with such a mentality. Take two verses, and call me in the morning. Or don't. I have to devote my time to inhaling aphorisms rather than relating to people as I find them.
And yet, twice over this week, I proved that I am slow indeed to deal gently with the human condition. Someone whose bravery I've observed and benefited from over decades confessed fear in facing a new situation that is dear to us both. I didn't have to find an appropriately sympathetic facial expression. This was a text. I could even choose from multiple possible responses in order to reflect back something approaching true human empathy. Instead, I put her, our, problem through a flowchart that was some combination of biblical command and Vulcan logic. Within a couple of minutes, I seized the word fear and retorted the response that we, as Christians, are to fear nothing and pray about everything. Far from hearing, far from helping, I was cheapening what no doubt has been a steadfast, impassioned prayer life over the last three weeks. Whiff.
Maybe the Instant Appraiser would do better with anger. One of the most gracious people I know served me up an opportunity to deal with it in another impassioned text this week, and I once again failed to connect. Since the texter and I have both cared passionately about the issue that was beginning to anger her after years of growing weary, a supportive response should have been easy. If I needed the cover of someone else's words, I could have even quoted Scripture in support of righteous anger when wrong or tepid advocacy occurs. Instead, I actually thought through my response and wrote out that her understandable anger was making OUR burden heavier. Anger bad. Harder for me. Next.
By a work of God's grace, both of these people are still in my contacts, and still in my life. By a further work of God's grace, He has been showing me what grace in action looks like in a manner even more purely distilled than classic TV. In Luke 10, the Holy Spirit readily diagnoses that Jesus' questioner was TESTING Him Who needed to pass nobody's test. If we miss that, the Holy Spirit is likewise plain in weighing and this guy finding him wanting as the interaction with the patient Son of God continues. Even under Christ's ongoing forbearance and tutelage, the Holy Spirit says the questioner wanted TO JUSTIFY HIMSELF. Clearly, the Lord saw these motives from the beginning of the conversation, even the beginning of time. Yet, wonderful, Counselor that He is, He keeps the ball in play. He chooses to expose, confront, and often to heal over time. His diagnoses are unerring, but he doesn't skip to the bottom line. He dwells WITH men, and women, and uses an interplay of emotions, distractions, and even errors for His greater glory. He directs rather than stifles human emotion. As He knows better than His impatient spokesman spitting out bullet points, emotion has to go somewhere.
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