Holy Curiosity
My friend Steve constantly invited me to conferences. I never said yes. But his charming South African accent sure made it hard to decline. Often, he made his case to me: “You’ve got to be there! Come on, Alastair! There is something so powerful about gathering together. Flip!” (or something along those lines). And I retorted that God is perfectly capable of meeting with us in the local church, in our homes, in our ordinary happenings. Because the mundane can be infused with the extraordinary grace of Christ’s presence. Steve didn’t disagree. He only wanted me to include the possibility of what God can also do at conferences—and he wanted me to experience what he experiences.
Eventually, Steve accepted that conferences weren’t my thing. But I’ve since gained eyes to see that I’ve missed out on some beautiful opportunities. I wish I had said yes to one or two of them at least. It’s not that I’ve since become an ambassador for Christian conferences. Rather I’ve become an advocate for something else: an open mind. But embodying an open-mind has required something more difficult than saying yes to the occasional well-meaning invitation.
There’s Always a Backstory
My reticence about conferences unveils the underbelly of an unhelpful posture. It was curated over many years and inevitably became a default reflex. Julia describes the Alastair she first met in 2007 as “too cool for school.” We were at an evening of worship. She lifted her hands and sang to God. I kept mine crossed and looked upon her with suspicion (… to be fair, I was still a newcomer to Christian worship so I was slightly perplexed about what was happening too). Hence forth, I was “too cool for school.” The lingering cynic in me, hanging in the shadows of the lobby, rolls my eyes at that turn of phrase, which only proves her point.
You know how it goes: this genre is better than that genre, and this interest is better than that interest, I’m cool because I’m not that. It’s personified in the inability to appreciate a previously favourite band once they become massively popular. It’s the person who stands back and criticizes, finds the cracks, and highlights the faults. Of course there’s a place for criticism and critique. I’m only talking about when this posture becomes an identity: then we have a problem. I had a problem.
When I decided to pursue joy over a decade ago, I inevitably discovered that all my posturing as “cool” robbed me. These misguided efforts to establish my own identity as “better than” became a barrier to delight and deep engagement in life. It also birthed cynicism, snobbery, and elitism. I’ve slowly and steadily learned to lay down this posturing. It’s certainly not a virtue despite whatever our culture may say. It actually casts a shadow over life that dulls the sheen of joy.
But if you’ll still permit a little snobbery:
I really don’t like bumper stickers.
I’ve only seen two that I’ve enjoyed enough to consider disfiguring my car. The first: “Birds aren’t real.” It made me chortle. It turns out, this slogan is part of a wonderful spoof conspiracy theory. And, the second: “Cultivate Curiosity: So much universe, and so little time.” Yes, please. That’ll do. Indeed, it was Albert Einstein who said:
Curiosity has its own reason for existing. One cannot help but be in awe when he contemplates the mysteries of eternity, of life, of the marvelous structure of reality. It is enough if one tries merely to comprehend a little of this mystery every day. Never lose a holy curiosity.
This was one of my favourite qualities about my first pastor—Kyle. Whenever we would study Scripture or talk about Jesus, he would inevitably ask this question, “What would it look like if we actually did what Jesus says?”
Talk about a holy curiosity!
“Lord, I want to be more like Kyle” was a common prayer for me.
I was a new Christian at the time. And this question taught me to be open-minded to the ways of Jesus. It taught me that faith requires imagination. And the answers I discovered, although challenging at times, were always better than my previous assumptions. I started to ask: What it would it look like if I wasn’t “too cool for school”? What would it look like to exchange the cultural virtue of cynicism for holy curiosity?
What if?
For me, it’s easy to be critical. I don’t have a tough time looking down my nose, measuring things by my own ideals, and making assessments. It takes intentional work, on the other hand, to remain curious, open, and engaged to what is good, what is worthy of praise, and what needs to be celebrated. As I’ve followed Jesus, inevitably, the “too cool for school” attitude started to die. It was part of my old self. It’s been a process. But as I have discovered my hidden life in Christ, that is my true self, a holy curiosity has triumphed over my closed-minded judgements.
Surprise, Surprise
A few weeks ago, my friend Andy invited me to attend a conference. I felt my old reflex rise up for a moment. But this time around, holy curiosity took over. I found myself easily saying, “Yes.”
I knew, for the most part, what I was getting into. I also know myself well enough to know that the temptation to fall back into cynicism is real, or at the very least, a short foray into an aloof-analytical-quietly-judging-everything posture. But I also know this isn’t going to do me any favours. So, when the conference neared, my biggest goal was to go with an open-mind. I figured, if I could pull that off: it’s a win.
The conference was no different than many conferences I’ve been to before: full of energy, enthusiasm, and a loaded schedule with worship and teaching. But I decided not to dwell on the moments that caused me concern. Neither did I dismiss them. I acknowledged them. But I intentionally put the apostle Paul’s words to the test:
Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.
In doing so, I kept myself open to whatever God might be doing in-and-through his imperfect-yet-beautiful gathering of people.
Although I shouldn’t be surprised, to my surprise, God can do wonders with an open-mind. In-fact, God met me in a very intimate, powerful, and needed way at this conference. It was healing, restorative, and empowering. The Spirit ministered to the vulnerable, wounded parts of my soul and imparted courage. And it wasn’t just a spiritual mountain-top or a moment of getting swept up into the emotion of the environment. It was something more and it has lingered and lasted and left me walking a little lighter. The theologian Andrew Root says joy is God ministering to us and I can say I experienced this unique joy at the conference.
Now, my point isn’t that you should start attending to conferences.1 Rather, my point is that holy curiosity is way more fun. I recognize there is a place for critical thinking, discernment, and caution about some Christian practices and expressions. By all means, chase wisdom. Even so, my journey from cynicism to curiosity has taught me that an open mind can reveal God’s work in unexpected places. Conferences haven’t changed but I have. While conferences may not be for everyone, holy curiosity allows us to see beauty and grace where we might least expect it. So, whether it’s a conference, a new experience, or an ordinary day: stay curious, remain open. Because Jesus is the God who likes to step through locked doors and surprise us with his peace.
P.S. Steve, I was wrong. I owe you a “yes.” And, Andy, thank you!
There are other reasons I decline going to conferences: I prefer not to travel unless it’s for a vacation or a retreat in the true sense of the word, I also have an aversion to hype, and I’m a very social introvert. The demand, energy, and pace of most conference schedules often leaves me feeling depleted rather than filled up. I’ve included this footnote for any of you who legitimately struggle with conferences for reasons beyond cynicism. You don’t have to go to them! But if you find ones that align with your values, if you find ways to pace yourself, and if you go with an open-mind, who knows what might happen?