Box

I am a creature of habit.

I prefer to move within safe boundaries, and for everything I do to have predictable consequences. This is how it came about: as befits toddlers, I wanted to explore my surroundings by crawling and try out all sorts of exciting things. For my own safety, and to give my parents a bit more freedom of movement, a playpen (a ‘box’ in Dutch) was bought. One of those square, foldable cages with wooden bars and a soft blanket and a string with all sorts of trifling toys on it… Thankfully without a lid – at least there was that.

I no longer remember what I thought of being put in the box at every turn. Perhaps I cried myself out of it or tried to climb over the edge. And of course, after being consistently boxed in, I began to find that deprivation of freedom normal. It even became a safe little place where, as a toddler, I ruled the roost. So safe and controllable, even, that the occasions when I was lifted out of the box felt increasingly unsafe, and I was only at ease again within the safe enclosure of my wooden cage.

Growing up, there was always another box to be put into. For my safety and to learn to become a well-behaved adult; to become just like my box-keepers. The bars were no longer of simple wood, but of values, norms, rules, traditions and disciplines. The space consisted of pre-selected information that you really needed for your formation, adaptation and later career. That started with a succession of schools, the sports club and the scouts. But the culture of our street too was such a box, into which the bigger boys put you, for your safety and under their control. On pain of a beating if you went beyond their norms and limits.

But little boys grow up, and then came the years of rebellion against all those boxes into which you are put ‘for your own good’. I discovered that the bars could be bent, and so I entered unknown worlds. At first it was great fun and full of adventure, but soon I ended up in another box: that of doing things you do not really want to do and that are definitely harmful to yourself and others. That box was me and myself, and the bars were ego bars. That box was managed by a very unsavoury character, who offered no room to escape whatsoever. Thank God, through the intervention of a very special Person I was lifted out of that box and placed in a wonderful space of love, grace and freedom. Jesus is His name.

Yet I regularly step back into that old safe box with a soft blanket and trifling toys. The bars, partly placed by myself, are now religious norms, dogmas and disciplines mixed with earthly pleasures. And when I am graciously lifted out of it now and then, that can still feel a little unfamiliar, and out of habit I step back into that safe cage. Besides, I am not alone there. It can be quite cosy and even rather Christian.

Yet there is that quiet voice calling me to step ‘Out Of The Box’ for good. For the Holy Spirit works above all outside the box and not in it. We see that in the exemplary life of Jesus.

Therefore, the question is not whether God wants to take us out of our self-chosen cage by means of His Spirit. He has already done that in Jesus; the bars are gone. The question is whether we want that and really want to function in God’s space and freedom. What holds us back is fear of what we risk losing by it. Let us first invite the Holy Spirit to make crystal clear to us once more what we gain by it. Blessings, Marijn Burkunk. Marijn is a friend and one of the founders of Oasis Trails. http://Www.oasistrails.org For the Dutch-language newsletter of Oasis Trails: [email protected]

About 25 years ago I (Wiebe) made this piece. My motivation then was much the same as the point of Marijn’s story now. In the meantime I have linked a second thought to it, namely: when someone has been convicted of their wrongdoing and has served their sentence, we prefer to keep this person behind bars. Chained and marked. Jesus asks us to visit prisoners and to offer a helping hand in the process of reintegration. Taking care of ourselves is taking care of one another.