Fearless Faith

The chainsaw hadn’t been touched but once or twice since the Dailey tornado, now several years past. The bar was embarrassingly corroded but was at least more recognizable than the chain that clung to it, securely bound in place by a combination of rust from exposure to moisture and layers of dirt, oil, and grease. This old mechanical beast, moribund, at death’s door in every regard, was too much of a challenge to pass up. Armed with naval jelly, steel wool, spray lubricant, air compressor and a little fortitude, I waded in on the saw just to see if it could be resurrected.

The bar was in surprisingly good condition, and as parts were pulled off and cleaned, optimism crept in. A final obvious need was addressed by replacing a deteriorating fuel line extending from the fuel tank. With new chain in place, and great smugness and satisfaction on my part, the saw purred to life after a few pulls on the starter. I was in business! Before long, I was chainsaw happy – quickly running out of dead limbs to cull from an old elm, clearing away a thorny locust, laying waste to a dead blue spruce, and chatting for a few noisy moments with a hoary old mulberry. The only remaining concern was who would pick up all the downed wood?

In spite of the intentional ministrations towards the overall mechanical well being of the saw, there was actually one factor which enabled excellent results above all others. Tension. Without proper tension on the new chain, all was for naught. Too much tension would result in overworking the saw, creating excess wear on the chain sprockets. Too little tension would enable the chain to track sideways, running a dangerous risk of breaking or flying off of the bar entirely. With just the right tension, the saw was a powerhouse. The dogs were annoyed. The cats were in hiding. My family, secretly hoping for divine intervention, was granted a measure of grace when the saw finally used up the last of the fuel/oil mixture and was mercifully, blessedly silenced for the day.

We need a degree of tension in our lives and in the lives of our congregations and churches in order to thrive theologically. It sometimes takes a watchful eye and a willingness to adjust to the conditions, but allowing for a healthy amount of tension can produce a spiritual vitality that is unmatched. It is part of the maintenance to which congregations must attend. Heavy-handed leadership (from either clergy or laity) wears on congregations and inhibits the movement of the Spirit in the life of the church. Too little guidance gives rise to whatever-works-for-you-works-for-me theology in which critical interpretation of scripture is set aside.

Paul suggests a proper tension as we work at our faith through discernment in the larger community. “Forget about deciding what’s right for each other. Here’s what you need to be concerned about: that you don’t get in the way of someone else, making life more difficult than it already is. I’m convinced – Jesus convinced me! – that everything as it is, in itself, is holy. We, of course, by the way we treat it or talk about it, can contaminate it (Romans 14:13-15, MSG).”

Work hard at discovering just the right amount of tension necessary to produce the most amount of wood. And if you need something cut down to size, I’ve got this great old chainsaw and someone who’s just itching to kick up some serious dust.