This is a bit surprising considering the central importance of eschatology in the biblical text. Close to the center of biblical faith is the notion that history is not done yet, the final chapters have not yet been written. And the biblical text provides a particular perspective on this as yet unwritten history. I think it could be argued that one of the most common ‘bottom-lines’ of N.T. eschatological texts is “pay attention”. Consider for example:

“Be on guard! Be alert!. . .Therefore keep watch because you do not know when the owner of the house will come back. . .If he comes suddenly do not let him find you sleeping”. Mk 13:32f

“So then, let us not be like others, who are asleep, but let us be alert. . .” 1 Thes 5:6

Eschatology of the N.T. variety is not just some collection of information about the future. The biblical texts assume that we are subject to boredom–to not finding anything in the present that is worthy of our attention. And so, it reminds us to wake up, to stay alert, to open our eyes, to not go to sleep. Why? Because when the really important things happen, they will not be happening in the future. They will be happening in the present. This is a fundamental assumption of the biblical text: God’s actions, interests and purposes do have a history and a future, but if you think they are not happening now, then you are likely to get bored, to become inattentive, to be lulled to sleep. And that is catastrophic for Christian faith.

Probably most of us first experience our boredom as being about something external to us. It is about our circumstances. We say “things are boring”. This is the same kind of tactic we use with anger. Most of us first experience anger as being about someone else. We say: “you made me angry.” We experience the anger as information about you and what you have done, not as information about ourselves. But this disowning of emotion is rarely very helpful. The same is true of our response to boredom. Most of the boredom we experience in life contains important information about us. Why am I bored in situations that are not objectively boring? How can life in a world that is full of the love and grace of God ever be boring? Why do we see ‘empty space’ when the universe is ‘full’?

A more helpful approach to understanding boredom is that taken by Thomas C. Oden in his book The Structure of Awareness–a very helpful book that takes boredom seriously as a theological category. Oden understands boredom to be a kind of anxiety. Just as guilt is a kind of anxiety which focuses on the past and fear is a kind of anxiety which focuses on the future, so boredom is a kind of anxiety that focuses on the present. Guilt, fear and boredom. . .those, for Oden, are the big three.  As with any kind of anxiety, boredom can be either a constructive or a destructive experience. Importantly, for Oden, destructive boredom is fundamentally a failure to see the most obvious of things–that God is active NOW in the world. Here’s just a bit of how Oden talks about the contrast between Jesus’ present-tense eschatological message and the past-tense or future-tense oriented eschatological messages which were more common in his day:

Against the prevailing trend of idealized messianic expectations, Jesus announced: The reign of God is at hand! In direct opposition to those who were bored with present history, Jesus announced: Now is the acceptable time! To those who expected God to change the very conditions of human existence, Jesus announced: God is now with us! To those whose thoughts were fixed upon a romanticized past or an idealized future, Jesus proclaimed, brutally and offensively: The kingdom of heaven is in your midst!

While Oden makes it clear that boredom can be dysfunctional, the dysfunction seems, for our purposes, a bit generic. The experience of boredom which is common during the recovery process, however, involves a very specific dysfunction. It has become increasingly clear to me over the years, for example, that boredom can be what craving feels like for work/ministry addicts. Every addiction involves the experience of craving. If we are addicted and we need our next ‘hit’, then we will be restless and irritable. A key component of restlessness and irritability is craving.  But what does craving feel like? For sex addicts, the experience of craving is closely connected with lust. For gambling addicts, the experience of craving is closely connected with irrational hope. But, for work addicts, the experience of craving is very closely connected with boredom. When not working, a work addict will be bored. Restlessly bored. Irritably bored. I’m not sure this is universally true for all work/ministry addicts, but it sure fits my experience. The adrenaline rush which work addicts experience when they ‘get back to work’ seems like a sure, if temporary, cure for boredom.

Seen in this light, boredom is not just a kind of anxiety. It is a symptom of the addictive process at work in us. At least for work addicts, boredom is part of an addictive cycle: using, consequences, regret, attempts to change, increasing boredom and, finally, using to combat the boredom. The intimate connection between boredom and craving in this cycle is an important feature of the process. Boredom increases craving. Craving increases boredom.

If this is part of the reality of boredom for us, then trying to ‘manage’ our boredom (e.g. by developing better time management skills or by trying to lead more ‘balanced’ lives) will never be an adequate solution to the problem. It will not make the boredom go away. Just as ‘lust management’ might be helpful for non-addicts, it is hopelessly counterproductive for sex addicts. In the same way ‘boredom management’ is rarely helpful for work addicts. Our problems are deeper than that. A solution must begin with the recognition that we are not more powerful than our craving. We will need something more powerful than our own good intentions, determination and will-power. The recognition that we are helpless to do what needs to be done is not usually a recognition that we welcome. But it can be the beginning of a remarkable transformation. . . a transformation that, while it may at times be painful and difficult, will definitely not be boring.

Like most people, I like speed. I tend to think that fast is better. A faster computer is a better computer. A faster internet connection is a better internet connection. Fast is better in lots of ways. I’d much rather go to a two week intensive to work on a personal problem than to slug it out for a year in therapy. Much rather.

But clearly fast is not always better. The example I often use is surgery for cancer. After surgery you don’t ask the doctor “Was it quick?”. No. You ask “Did you get it all?”. And that’s a whole different matter. Speed doesn’t matter that much in this context. What matters far more than speed is thoroughness. That means that speed is, at best, a conditional virtue. . it depends on the circumstances.

Just about everybody I know who is in recovery and who is a Christian struggles at one point or another in the process with the feeling that “this should be going faster.” Or “I should be better by now.” Sometimes people — even well-intentioned folks — will say this to us. Or will imply that if only we prayed more, were more sincere, were more something. . . that this would already be solved. It is, of course, only very, very rarely helpful to receive this kind of help with our inventory. . .and it can be very hurtful.

I admit speed is not a traditional theological category. Look at any of your standard three-volume-systematics and you won’t find a chapter entitled “Speed” in any of them. Speed seems, however, to be pretty important theologically for people in recovery. The point at which speed becomes interesting theologically seems to me to be the moment when (and the way in which) we connect speed with power. Isn’t speed a reflection of power? Forget cars and computers now — think about personal change. Isn’t the speed of personal change determined by the power we have available to us? And isn’t God all-powerful? So shouldn’t God be able to empower us to change quickly? For many people, this series of questions seems to lead to an unavoidable conclusion — if you have God’s power available to you, whatever change is needed should be taken care of quickly. Even instantly. Miraculously. Just. . . pray a little prayer, leave it at the foot of the cross, whatever. . it should be done by the time you have finished reading this sentence.

But is this biblical?

Well, that’s what I suggest talking about in this blog for a while. Of course, things sometimes do happen quickly. And we are usually grateful for those parts of the journey. But what about the slow parts? What about the stuff that takes longer than any of us want? What about those times? Here are a few questions:

1) Are miracles the only sure sign of the presence of God’s power?

2) Are some miracles slow ones?

3) What biblical resources might be useful in thinking about fast/slow? (e.g. How long did Moses tend goats? What, if anything, might that mean for us?)

4) What forms can God’s power take during times when the process is slow?

5) There may be theological issues other than ‘power’ that should inform how we think about speed. What are they?

6) Which biblical characters experienced ‘slow’? How did they deal with it? What can we learn from their experiences?

Your two bits worth are welcome. All comments are moderated. Not all will be posted. Some that are posted will be edited. That’s just the deal here.