I love carnival. I love the pulsating rhythms of soca music. I love the creative wonder of hundreds of steel drums chanting a melody while the whole stage vibrates with joy. I love to dance. I love to be a part of the sea of masqueraders moving their bodies with celebratory abandon. I love that moment when everyone’s favorite song starts, and we jump, put our hands in the air, or throw our arms across a padna’s shoulder. I would even go so far as to say I love the human form. I love the curvaceous feminine allure that my grandfather would call ‘feminine pulchritude’. I even appreciate (with some jealousy) the gym buffs with their chiseled abs and gladiatorial lats.
The problem is that my flesh also loves lust, licentiousness, and lasciviousness (it sounds less immoral if you use big words). I envy my friends who can partake in the beauty and celebration of carnival and remain untouched by this darker side of it. As the prophet Voice would say, “Ah cyah behave mehself”.
The deeper I go in my faith, the more I realize that the path up is also the path through our dark side. I spent almost a decade as a young Christian trying to repress, ignore, and side-step my darker side. I threw scriptures at it. I covered it under layers of church activities. Until one day, like the Balrog in The Lord of the Rings, it erupted as though shouting, “I will not be ignored!” I gave up the fight. I did not have anything in me that was more powerful than this powerful force. This force propelled me in an endless search for beauty and pleasure. I said to myself, “You can’t fight this. This is who you are. You are a hedonist.”
Deeper and deeper I went, until one day, after many years of fleshly indulgence, I hit the bottom. At rock bottom, I realized the answer wasn’t there either—the answer I needed – the thing my soul longed desperately for… it wasn’t in sex and parties either. I was still empty. I cried out in desperation to the God I never stopped believing in and who never left me, despite my rebellion.
Then…. He answered. Jesus walked into the room. Divine Liquid Love washed over me and through me in waves. The God of Scripture became a deeper, more tangible reality in my life. My heart was apprehended instantly, and all its desires and longings knew that this… this!… this is where all satisfaction was to be found.
Looking back, I realize that it was only then that I was ready to receive the Answer. I needed to go down to go up. I needed to know that I was poor.
Matthew 5:3 (NLT
God blesses those who are poor and realize their need for him,
for the Kingdom of Heaven is theirs.
Thus began a fiery, passionate love affair with the Lover of my soul. Thus began a real relationship with a Higher Power (as quoted in the Alcoholics Anonymous 12 steps). Only then did I experience any hope of becoming truly holy. Because the Spirit in me was more powerful than the darkness. And only His Presence was more attractive than sex and revelry.
John Piper’s Christian hedonism philosophy interpreted this revelation for me in those days: “God is most glorified in us when we are most satisfied in him.” The drive inside of me for pleasure was not something wrong with me. It was something put there by God that drives us to search and search until we find Him. Some call this drive eros. It is powerful. Try to ignore it, numb it, or kill it, and your soul will die from starvation. Try to fulfill it with earthly pleasures, and your soul will die from junk food.
Unfortunately, my taste for debauchery did not just disappear when I encountered God. I often wish it did as it has for some people. My process of sanctification has been slow and long. It has been more like a steady change of diet. I used to love soft drinks and hamburgers. My taste buds still love them, but the way my body feels without them is so much better. It is a deeper pleasure – a wholeness. That’s kind of how I feel about carnival. I started this blog with a confession of my love for many aspects of carnival, but I am on a search to find a truer, deeper pleasure. I’m not trying to deny this deep desire in me for pleasure. Up to last year, I felt frustration and disappointment that I still struggle with the same old temptations after so many years.
But not this year. I’ve come to realize that in this eros is pointing me toward God. I’ve come to realize that with Jesus and in Jesus, I can find a truer me and a deeper experience of God that my eros is pointing to. Rather than beating myself up for the fact that I still feel for a Coke, I’m asking myself, “What experience am I yet to discover that will surpass and make irrelevant what a Coke has to offer me?” Three books have served as voices of interpretation for this season:
- The Journey of Desire – John Eldredge
- Spiritual Wanderlust – Kelly Deutsch
- The Holy Longing – Ronald Rolheiser
As I type this, I can hear the music from last lap in the distance, but there is a peace in me that is different. A peace that echoes with the Psalmist (Psalm 16:9-11 ESV):
Therefore my heart is glad, and my whole being rejoices;
my flesh also dwells secure.
For you will not abandon my soul to Sheol,
or let your holy one see corruption.
You make known to me the path of life;
in your presence there is fullness of joy;
at your right hand are pleasures forevermore.
What I’ve discovered is that there is a joy that is fuller than the most orgasmic sexual encounter. There are pleasures that continue forevermore – long after the carnival is over. Ive discovered that only this reality in the Presence is more powerful than the pleasures of this world. But I can’t get there by trying to deny or kill the eros. It is that very desire that will take me to the Holy Place, if I do not settle for the cheap thrills along the way. In the struggle, as I bring it to Jesus over and over again in our daily heart-to-heart conversations, I emerge, a truer version of myself.
