Relinquishing Rebellion

Relinquishing Rebellion

    Don’t you hate it when people complain about a problem that they continue to cause? It’s so awkward, especially when the solution is so simple it all but stares them in the face. For instance, people who complain about their weight, yet continue to make the daily trip to McDonald’s. All they need to do is lay off the McChickens for awhile and their problem would be solved, but because they continue to consume the tasty abomination, their suffering propagates. Another example is a technique used in racoon hunting. A small hole is drilled into a log and a shiny object is placed in the bottom. If a racoon sees it, it will reach its paw into the hole to get the shiny object, but once it grabs it, the racoon is unable to pull its arm out because its clenched fist can’t fit through the hole. If it simply opened its paw it would be able to pull its hand out, but once the racoon has its fingers around the object, it refuses to let go and, because it keeps holding on, it remains stuck. Many people do this exact thing with their problems and it’s easy to wonder how they could be so blind when we’re on the outside looking at these situations. However, when we’re in the middle of a conundrum like this and going through it ourselves, I find that it’s usually a bit harder to see this same solution and to implement it in our own lives. In Dante’s Inferno, we find Satan in a similar situation, and his picture serves as an excellent metaphor for the biggest problem that faces each of us in our own lives.

    Throughout Inferno, Dante descends deeper and deeper into the reaches of hell, passing through ring after ring of increasingly vile punishment until finally, just before the exit, he reaches the very bottom which is filled, not with fire, but with numbing and isolating ice. In this deepest pit we find Satan, who, “from his chest up emerges from the ice” (Dante, 34.29). With his two huge wings, “he flapped, and flapped, / and from his flapping raised three gales that swept / Cocytus, and reduced it all to ice” (Dante, 34.50-52). “With his six eyes he wept, and down three chins / dribbled his tears and slaver slick with blood” (Dante, 34.53-54). Satan lies here, submerged and trapped in the ice up to his waist, weeping vehemently, and frantically flapping his wings trying to get out. This seems like a relatively fair reaction after you’ve been cast out of heaven for your rebellion and you fall through the earth, creating hell and getting stuck in ice at the bottom. It seems only natural that he would wildly try to escape, but look closer at what is happening here. With every frenzied downbeat, his wings raise “three gales that swept / Cocytus, and reduced it all to ice” (Dante, 3.51-52). Every time he flaps his wings, it sends out a blast of icy wind that sweeps over all the ice and refreezes it. Not only that, but he’s so immersed in bemoaning his own hardship, every tear he cries adds more water to the surroundings to get frozen. His very act of trying to escape is the thing preventing him from doing it.

    This metaphor possesses many intriguing facets and it has immense application to our own lives today. Satan, because of his pride and rebellion, fell out of heaven and was cast to earth. He fell through the earth and ruined it, creating a giant hole that became the most vile place imaginable. His tears at his own misfortune filled the space around him and his flapping wings, resisting God’s righteous will, sent out storms of ice that froze him to his tears and his surroundings. The harder he resisted, the more trapped he became, and his continuous resistance continuously prevents him from ever being able to be free. It’s a sorry state he finds himself in, but he’s so absorbed in the situation and in his pride that he blinds himself to the solution right in front of him. If he would only relinquish his control and stop resisting and flapping his wings, they would stop sending out ice and the ice would melt. The thing that got him there is the same thing that he needs to stop doing in order to get out, and it’s the same thing that he refuses to ever stop doing. If he would only stop rebelling, he would be free.

This insight might seem simple and obvious when examined from outside, detached eyes, but it’s not as easily seen when we’re the stuck ones trying to get out of our own issues. Every aspect of the scene painted above is applicable to our lives, and in it we also find the answer to our greatest problem. As humans, we were created in the image of God with an original intention for good, but we messed it up with sin. As we fell, we ruined the world around us by bringing in death and corruption. We trapped ourselves in our own sins and became absorbed with our lost condition. The more we try to free ourselves and do it our own way, the more stuck we become. There is no way for us to find liberation in our own devices, and we’re so focused on trying to do it ourselves that we become blind to the only solution capable of freeing us: submission. The only way for us to be free is to cease our disobedience and relinquish our control. The difference between our situation and the metaphor is that God loves us and wants us to get out. He desires our hearts, which were made for Him, and when we finally accept that we are not good enough but God loves us anyway, it opens the door to freedom. All we need to do is stop resisting God, and when we do, our sins and our icy isolation begin to melt. God desires our freedom, and all we have to do to get it is relinquish our rebellion.