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Sometimes Quiet is Violent

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The Hsu family has been listening to a lot of Twenty One Pilots lately. Little Kyrie’s favorite is Doubt and Carissa can’t choose between Semi-Automatic, Trees and The Judge. One of the great things about their music is that, not only is it catchy, but the lyrics also give you a lot to chew on. One that has stuck with me the past few months is the song Car Radio.

Checkout the song before reading on:

Tyler Joseph, vocalist and lyricist for Twenty One Pilots, said this about the song:

The verses are talking about a true story of me being late to class…and I forgot to lock my door and when I came back out everything had been gutted and stolen out my car. At the time financially I was not able to replace anything that was taken, the GPS, the radio, all my CD’s. When I get in the car my first reaction is to put the radio on and for a while I wasn’t able to do that and finding out that once I removed that piece of me I realised that sometimes music can act as a distraction and can get in the way of where your mind wants to go.”

It’s true that quiet can be violent. When there’s no sound to hide behind we get antsy because we dread the oncoming onslaught of silence. And so we click open a browser, turn on the car radio, swipe open our phones. We fill our lives with noise. And it is this immediate stream of stimulation that keeps us living in a constant state of distraction. And as Tyler puts it, “it can get in the way of where your mind wants to go.” Sometimes what we need is to take a long look at the ugly parts of us that, if ignored for too long, will deform us in ways we never intended. This is no easy thing to do.

It is why I love the line, “Faith is to be awake and to be awake is for us to think and for us to think is to be alive and I will try with every rhyme to come across like I am dying to let you know you need to try to think.”

We often equate noise with being alive, with being awake, where, really, the opposite is true. Noise is what allows us to sleep walk through life, “distracted from distraction by distraction” (T.S. Eliot). As one writer aptly observed, “We live in an age of continuous partial attention.” This is our default setting.

Faith, on the other hand, points to an attentiveness that believes there is more to life than what is determined by our default setting. And to see with the eyes of faith requires the space silence creates in order for us to think. As renowned priest, Henri Nouwen, so matter of factly stated, “Without silence and solitude it is impossible to live a spiritual life.” It is an impossibility because such a life is nourished and sustained by what can only be heard when we quiet all the voices that bombard us everyday. When, in silence, we try and hear the only voice that matters.

So maybe we should all get our car radios stolen. Or maybe we can simply try and keep them off.

Then we can “just” sit in silence.
Formation

Conversation #1: Formation Happens!

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This is a reflection on Study One of the Ekklesia Project's Getting Your Feet Wet Series. This post covers Conversation #1: Formation Happens!

by Tim Horng

In Richard Curtis’s 2013 film About Time, Tim Lake does what every ordinary, principled human being would do with the power to travel through time: take a mulligan on all the mistakes he’s made in life. We’ve all wished we could get a second chance at all of the humiliating gaffes we’ve made, and it’s a lot of envious fun to follow Tim’s journey. He learns something about everything and eventually becomes confidently able to do virtually anything he wants, from winning over his crush to dealing with life’s greatest tragedies. Among the things he learns are two universal lessons about living that I think closely apply to our discussion of Christian formation. Hopefully, without spoiling too much…

LESSON #1: It takes practice.

When we first meet Tim, he’s dreadfully unsure about every action he makes. However, every time he screws up, he analyzes his missteps, hits the rewind button, and revises his life story (often multiple times). In Tim’s first foray into romantic pursuit, the stunning and playful Charlotte presents our protagonist with a bottle of sunscreen and a boy’s summer dream: “Tim. Will you do my back?” Of course, he makes an absolute wreck of it the first time around. His overexcited hands are shaky and cold, and the lotion erupts out of the bottle, spilling all over the place. It’s in her bikini. It’s in her hair. Thankfully, a humiliating run back into the house, a quick clench of the fists, and a few seconds later, he’s back in the game. This time, however, he’s a pro.

Unfortunately, merely being Christian doesn’t grant us the luxury of traveling in time. However, just like Tim’s character, becoming “little Christs” takes repetition and disciplined practice. We all know that the number of Christ-like attributes I have can be counted on one hand (or maybe just one, small pinky finger), but I also know these microscopic specks of Christ can at least be partially traced to the disciplines we’ve exercised at church. Two of the most formative Sunday Worship practices for me have been silence and confession. These two repeated actions have made increasing room for the Spirit to instill a habit of patient reflection, something that has undoubtedly tempered my naturally rash and critical tendencies.

Obviously, this kind of formation requires playing the long game.

However, we live in a world that serves instant gratification like a drug, and we love hearing stories of fast, dramatic transformation. While the Spirit is certainly capable of such, I feel that we often underestimate the sustained power of disciplined practice.

LESSON #2: It takes noticing.

After a lifetime of time travel, Tim’s dad has been through it all, and armed with the secrets to happiness, he gives his son a two-part suggestion. First, get on with ordinary life. So Tim does as he normally does. At work, his best friend gets chewed out by their boss, and he just sheepishly looks down at the table. At the store, the cashier rings him up, they exchange pleasantries, and he hastily pays before rushing out the door. In court, the jury declares his defendant “not guilty,” and he simply breathes a sigh of relief.

notnoticing

Then, part two of his dad’s plan: relive the same day almost exactly the same, but this time noticing how sweet the world can be. On this second go-around, Tim pokes fun at his boss and keeps his best friend in good spirits.
He notices the cashier’s upbeat smile, and he has a genuine interaction with her before leaving the store. In court, he sees how happy his defendant is at the decision and hugs him, sharing in his joy.

noticing

At the end of the day, he has gone through the exact same events as the first time around, but noticing has given him an entirely different persona.

Like Tim on his first day, too frequently, we go through our routines and end the day without a firm grasp of the hours and minutes of our lives. But also, just like Tim on his second day, we can increase our awareness of formation by noticing. Notice what makes us, and the people around us, tick. Notice what makes us laugh, smile, cry, and fume.

Notice when we desire something, and notice when God is present or absent (seemingly) in our lives.

Then, consider formation:

Where did these feelings, thoughts, and actions come from?

For me, these two lessons go hand-in-hand. Spiritual disciplines such as silence and confession have greatly helped me notice and consider. This has given my day-to-day life greater purpose and scope, and I feel I have come to a better understanding of the constant battles over the formation of my life. Doing this and then reminding myself of those words in Isaiah 64, “we are the clay, and you are our potter; we are all the work of your hand,” has unquestionably been the springboard to some of the most fruitful and noticeable growth in my spiritual character.