Journey to the Centre of the Soul

 

"Beautiful, fragile human skin."

As you've probably ascertained by now, I'm full of opinions and thoughts and scarcely lack the wherewithal to convey them. In moments of deep poignancy, however, I find myself without words. Beauty strikes me mute. 

The above scene had such an effect, though not when I saw it initially. At first, I simply thought it was a tender, touching moment between Eleven and Clara. I had no idea what it stands for until God slammed me with it in church, the next morning.

WARNING

If you haven't seen series 7's "Journey to the Centre of the TARDIS," then you might want to wait to read this post. It contains spoilers to the episode's plot. Duly noted? Geronimo.

Saturday night

I watched the episode, came to this scene, and found it gorgeous. The Doctor and Clara make it to the "centre" of the TARDIS only to find it shattered beyond repair. The Doctor is overwhelmed and feeling like a helpless failure. His oldest companion, constant caretaker and true wife is on the verge of destruction and he is unable to save her. He stands in the wreckage, completely lost, when Clara grabs his hand. (That in itself is a blog post. There is often nothing so powerful as the ministry of presence, but I'll save that for later.) It takes him a second, but he notices she's injured somehow, so he investigates. 

She has scars from the "big friendly button" on her palm. Scars in her "beautiful, fragile human skin." Scars that reveal to him the way to save Sexy and prevent everyone's deaths. Yay, Clara! Yay, Doctor! Yay, Sexy! Everyone goes home, and presumably the TARDIS is more friendly toward the new girl in the control room. What a great ending to a great story on Doctor Who Saturday. 

Sunday morning

My church has been serving communion pretty much every week for the past couple months. We do the little grape juice cups and wafer squares. Sometimes, communion is taken individually, whenever you feel led to walk up and grab the elements for yourself. Sometimes, however, the whole church family takes communion at the same time, which means the pastor has to wait until every last person in the rather sizable sanctuary is ready. Which means that those of us who sit in the front wait a while with the little cup and bread square. 

I'm a pretty tactile person and I tend to fidget when I'm holding things, so I ended up poking my hand with the sharp corners of the bread. After a few times, I realized it hurt a little, which I thought was appropriate, since Jesus' hands were pierced on the cross. And, you know, communion is about commemorating his sacrifice. Bread = body broken for me, wine = blood poured out to cover my sins. As I poked my hand and started to think about how much more his hands must have hurt, this exploded in my head and made me want to cry:

"Beautiful, fragile human skin."

Jesus was fully divine, but also fully human. (That's the hypostatic union.) He had beautiful, fragile human skin. He has scars on his hands. His scars signal the way for salvation, just like Clara's did. Only his scars don't undo time - they create a future. 

Beautiful, fragile human skin

Saved the world.

The scars lead the way to salvation - 

Beauty and hope in the pain.

Grab hold of the hand scarred for glory

and run when he calls out your name.

Until next time! May you remember your big friendly button.

Katya

Rule 7

I'd make a great companion.

No joke. I hear rules, run them through my autonomy filter and promptly disregard them. As far as I can tell, ignoring pretty much everything the Doctor says is par for the Team TARDIS course, so my anti-authority streak would fit in nicely with the pantheon of companions. 

I've gotten better at respecting authority even when it doesn't deserve it. I still think most rules are arbitrary and promote a hypocritical kind of legalism (because, honestly, you only care about the speed limit when a cop's around, don't you?). However, some rules have merit in their own right, not just because someone with authority laid them down. Some rules are inherently good, and some are sorely necessary. I even have a favorite rule and, of course, it comes straight from the Doctor:

deviantart by SvetoFiltr

"Run, you clever boy..."

I've listened to sermons about peace and God's provision, I've read about the sparrows and lilies in Matthew, I've seen God work in my own life and in the lives of others, and I've even encouraged others to stay strong and have faith in light of whatever life might deliver. In spite of all this, I still fear confronting adulthood, responsibility, change and stasis. I look at what my life now requires of me and I want to hide in my bedroom with my fluffy pillow and pretend I'm still a carefree seven-year-old. I want to run from anything I can't tackle easily, can't understand or am too lazy to attempt. The thing is, I'm so very good at it, too.

People run in a variety of ways. For me, it's avoiding the situation entirely. I don't like making big decisions on my own, so I put them off until the last possible moment. Instead, I'll escape into fantasy via my own creative endeavors or those of others, distracting myself with other realities or other cares just so I don't have to face the big bad Life monster and slay it. Whether it's procrastination by Facebook, Doctor Who or laundry, I find some way of occupying my time so the fear of what the "real world" demands gets shoved back into the cesspool from whence it came.

My natural reaction is to run when I'm scared, not fight. And that's why I love Rule 7. Because I need it.

"...and remember."

As someone who grew up in the competitive sports world, I know the value of a good coach. Without my instructors (and my dad) spurring me on, telling me to jump higher, try harder, go faster, ignore the pain, I never would have done what it took to achieve anything of substance. Some people are naturally dedicated and self-motivated. I never was. I needed someone on the sidelines telling me to give it my all. I needed someone to expect me to work on my technique at home, to demand a workout regimen, to practice my least favorite things. Because, left to my own devices, I would do what I liked until I was uncomfortable and then I would stop.

I find that my attitude toward being an athlete and my attitude toward life are no different. Without someone taking me by the shoulders and encouraging me (or challenging me) to get in there and fight, I will hang back where I am comfortable, safe and secure. I need to be reminded that life requires bravery, otherwise it's mere existence. I need someone to tell me not to run when I'm scared.

I love Rule 7 because it's both an exhortation and a demand. When Eleven says it to River in "Let's Kill Hitler," he's being very kind. He's showing her that she can be strong enough to face the situation and overcome urge to flee. He's also telling her that he isn't running, and that she has no right to go anywhere, either. She's better than that. 

"Never run when you're scared," is absolute. He could have said "don't run," but he said "never." This means that, no matter how terrifying, how impossible, how dangerous things get, she must square off against them and prevail. There is no option for retreat. 

"Have I not commanded you?"

It's funny how God can tell you something a million times in plain English, and you don't get the message until you see it elsewhere. You see, nothing about Rule 7 is groundbreaking, because all of it and more is in Joshua 1:9:

"Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord will be with you wherever you go."

Moses, the great patriarch and leader of Israel, has just died and Joshua is his successor. He's young and he's terrified, because God expects him to go to war to take control of land inhabited by giants - land that was promised to the children of Israel. Three times in the first nine verses of the book, God commands Joshua to be brave. Yet, he gives him the reason why: "As I was with Moses, so I will be with you. I will never leave you or forsake you." God tells Joshua to have courage because of what he will do and because of what he's done before. One of my favorite professors asks this rhetorical question every time we see an answered promise in Scripture: "What good are the promises of God?" Answer: Very. The record of kept promises in the Bible not only shows us who God is and what he's done, but also sets a precedent for our confidence that he will act in our lives in the future. He's commanded us to be strong and courageous, to go and fight, no matter how scared we are. And we know that we can do it, we can face the big bad Life monster, because we remember who is with us and what he's done.

Until next time! May the TARDIS like you.

Katya