‘Christianity is a shocking religion, although many of its adherents have managed to protect themselves from its terrible impact… One of the ways in which the shock of Christ is kept alive is by means of what the desert tradition of the east calls penthos (compunction). It has to do with a kind of ‘puncturing’ of the heart. Penthos is the word for that which pierces us to the heart, cuts us to the quick, raises us from the ‘dead.’ Penthos administers the shock that is necessary for us to be who we are… It shows up the idealistic, perfectionist, neurotic self for what it really is: a false self, an imposter. It frees the soul from the lying and the pretense that tend to dominate us when we are frightened, anxious, or insecure. It is also known as the gift of tears… The truly penitent is ‘baptised’ in his or her own tears, which represent the tears of truth breaking in and flooding the soul with new life.’
– Alan Jones, Soul Making, pp. 84-85.
it is the third day of the lenten journey.
and i just watched a public confession of brokenness and sin.
i’m sure most people on the planet have at least heard about the saga of Tiger Woods in recent weeks. the accident and accusations. the mystery and mistresses. the explanations and evasions, infidelities and invasions, unfaithfulness and uncertainties. a global hero humiliated. a transcendent figure thrust forcefully and painfully down to the cold, hard earth. an otherworldly image suddenly facing life in the real world.
countless people have made their observations and examinations of the situation, seeking to bring some kind of clarity to the confusion and meaning to the mayhem. i don’t feel led to follow suit.
why? because the only sense that is to be made of this situation must ultimately be made by Tiger Woods himself. because it is his journey to travel, not mine. because, at least for me, any attempt to evaluate his experience ultimately becomes a means for me to manipulate my perception of my own journey and experience…to convince myself that somehow i’m in a position to evaluate and comment on his situation because i have no need to evaluate and face up to my own brokenness.
why take a cold, hard look at the depths of my own soul when i can take odd comfort in looking at someone else’s, and somehow feel a sense of superiority in the process?
after viewing Woods’ press conference today, i feel led not to evaluate him but to examine myself…not to conjecture or comment, but to confess…not to revile or revere, but to reveal.
why? not because of his statement or his stature, his honesty or his humility.
it was because of his tears.
i had seen tears in Tiger’s eyes before. the first time he won the Master’s, hugging his dad in a poignant moment that spoke volumes about a man who spoke very little in public.
but the tears i saw in his eyes today were different. they were tears that came from a different place, just as real but perhaps from an even deeper place within himself. the place where all accomplishments and accolades fade, where all pretense and pretending is revealed for what it truly is, where honesty is honoured, reality rules, and the truth sets you free.
in the words of Alan Jones, what i saw today were tears of compunction.
they were the tears of someone who had truly been cut to the heart, whose morals and motives no longer matched his actions, whose life had spun out of control and drifted far away from its spiritual and emotional center. they didn’t stream from his face like they would in some highly scripted Hollywood creation, although he did read from a script. they just welled up in his eyes like a person who had tried to control them and everything else in his life, and who had arrived at a place where he no longer could.
they weren’t rehearsed. they were real.
they weren’t contrived. they were compunct.
and in light of witnessing a moment of grimly beautiful reality, i felt like a complete fake.
for all the ways i project calm in the face of adversity, peace and playfulness in the midst of chaos and concern, how often do i honestly admit to myself, to God, to others that i feel like an anxious wreck in the depths of my heart and soul?
in moments where i seem to give the impression that the truth has set me free to be more fully myself, why do i still feel that nagging sense within my deepest self that if people knew who i really was, they wouldn’t want to give me the time of day, let alone listen to what i have to say or entrust some of the most precious parts of their selves and their lives to my care and concern?
in a life’s calling where living within your means is crucial and material possessions are merely a means to greater ends and not an end in and of themselves, why do i still feel the magnetic pull to acquire more and more possessions, as if having those things will somehow make me feel more complete as a person?
why is it that so often, with all that i know about human development and how we are mysteriously and wonderfully made, i end up needing people to need me in order to feel as if i have value and purpose in life?
after all the miles i’ve traveled thus far on my journey of life and faith, how come the Truth still has not completely set me free from fear?
i sift through these questions and more…and i wait for compunction.
i wait for the tears.
but they don’t come.
maybe it’s because Tiger has already been through a lent’s worth of days sojourning into the depths of his heart and soul that the tears have come for him. life does that to us sometimes. and he has many more miles to travel through the fears and tears to love and healing.
maybe it’s because those times of compunction can’t be created or manufactured, but simply experienced in the surprise of the moments in which they arrive…unannounced, unanticipated, unpredictable.
maybe the power of fear and distrust is much stronger within me than i ever imagined.
maybe the tears can’t well up easily from those dry and barren places in my heart and soul, like water trying to well up through the parched surface of a deserted plain. the water is there, the River still flows, but sometimes it takes the sharpest of punctures to get down to the bottom of the well.
maybe i’m just stuck with the questions for now.
questions and fears…may they lead to wisdom…
and tears.