We are frequently convinced that we want to know more of God. Sometimes we think we want to know everything of God. Sometimes our prayers suggest we are saying to him, "explain yourself - I demand to know!" This is a great example of how our desire for knowledge exceeds our wisdom. If we demand to know all of God, we are deciding that we must “master” God. It is of course not possible to do this – but some may believe it is. Anything you have mastered, you have now placed beneath you. God will not be mastered, indeed cannot be mastered.
To feel that we must master God is to then be left a person who has no ability for wonder. With, nothing bigger than ourselves – no ability or capacity for wonder, then we will have no chance for joy. Joy comes from what is larger than us. If we have mastered God, we have made him smaller than us. So, our demand to master God becomes our road to depression. Neitsche and others experienced this fellowship of cheerlessness.
No, what we want is enough knowledge to believe – not only about God, about others, and about all of life. Enough knowledge to trust, and then live the adventure. In other words, this means we want mystery – our souls need mystery. Mystery, unknown – is a necessity for wonder.
If we demand to know all of God, then the mystery is lost. Lose the mystery, lose the joy.
Friday, June 12, 2009
Saturday, May 2, 2009
The Extraordinary and the Ordinary
Coming to his hometown, he began teaching the people in their synagogue, and they were amazed. "Where did this man get this wisdom and these miraculous powers?" they asked. "Isn't this the carpenter's son? Isn't his mother's name Mary, and aren't his brothers James, Joseph, Simon and Judas? Matthew 13:54-55
As people wrestle with questions of faith and the “possibilities” of God, Jesus presents us with a paradoxical dilemma.
Sometimes, people say that they can’t believe in God because the supernatural and the extraordinary don’t work for their rationalistic minds. That can be an honest and authentic challenge. Can we believe that God created the world, for instance? Or perhaps, closer to Jesus, can we believe that he was born of a virgin? The rational thinker may say, “I can’t believe it – it’s too fantastic, impossible. I have to see it to believe it. I have to be able to touch it.”
On the other hand, there was an equal challenge that rejected Jesus. People suggested he’s too ordinary. Just a man. One of us. From a backwater town no less. He was a baby, a boy, a man – who was touchable and who touched, who was seeable and who saw. He walked, talked, ate and slept among us. Here he is. To this one, people said – “I can’t believe he is God’s son, the messiah. He is too ordinary, too much like normal life. No, he’s no messiah, just an ordinary teacher.”
So we reject the idea of God on the grounds of the supernatural and the extraordinary. Then reject Jesus as God on the grounds of the too ordinary. In his own hometown (where can you be seen to be more ordinary except perhaps in your own family) people were amazed at how extraordinary he was – miraculous powers and all. On the other hand, they were amazed at how ordinary he was, “Isn’t this the carpenter’s son?”
Interesting how God works. For today’s thinker who wrestles with the supernatural, how about the “natural Jesus?” For today’s thinker who rejects the ordinary, how about the sent from God, born of a virgin Jesus?
Hardly a day goes by that I don’t keep looking to see if my faith is true. Hardly a day goes by, that I am not amazed to see God in the unique truth of Jesus.
As people wrestle with questions of faith and the “possibilities” of God, Jesus presents us with a paradoxical dilemma.
Sometimes, people say that they can’t believe in God because the supernatural and the extraordinary don’t work for their rationalistic minds. That can be an honest and authentic challenge. Can we believe that God created the world, for instance? Or perhaps, closer to Jesus, can we believe that he was born of a virgin? The rational thinker may say, “I can’t believe it – it’s too fantastic, impossible. I have to see it to believe it. I have to be able to touch it.”
On the other hand, there was an equal challenge that rejected Jesus. People suggested he’s too ordinary. Just a man. One of us. From a backwater town no less. He was a baby, a boy, a man – who was touchable and who touched, who was seeable and who saw. He walked, talked, ate and slept among us. Here he is. To this one, people said – “I can’t believe he is God’s son, the messiah. He is too ordinary, too much like normal life. No, he’s no messiah, just an ordinary teacher.”
So we reject the idea of God on the grounds of the supernatural and the extraordinary. Then reject Jesus as God on the grounds of the too ordinary. In his own hometown (where can you be seen to be more ordinary except perhaps in your own family) people were amazed at how extraordinary he was – miraculous powers and all. On the other hand, they were amazed at how ordinary he was, “Isn’t this the carpenter’s son?”
Interesting how God works. For today’s thinker who wrestles with the supernatural, how about the “natural Jesus?” For today’s thinker who rejects the ordinary, how about the sent from God, born of a virgin Jesus?
Hardly a day goes by that I don’t keep looking to see if my faith is true. Hardly a day goes by, that I am not amazed to see God in the unique truth of Jesus.
Monday, March 16, 2009
The Real Question
This time of year I try to focus on matters around Jesus' crucifixion and resurrection. The annual ritual of returning to the Gospels and their accounts of the suffering and victory of Christ are of course a part of the rhythm of the church year. They are more than rhythm for me though - they are ritual in the most living sense of the word. They are a rite of belief with a return to the injustice of the Lord's treatment and then God's victorious answer.
In considering the injustice and the suffering of Christ - I have come to understand that there is nothing we experience of life's pain that Jesus didn't experience in passion week. Betrayal, abandonment, humiliation, mockery, physical and emotional torture, powerlessness, abuse, anguish of soul and physical pain - all concluding in death. If we are to follow Christ, his experience in passion week is not a cheery invitation. Paul said, "I want to share in the fellowship of his sufferings." I wonder if I would say that? I wonder if the American Church would say this. And then, the question.
The epicenter of the struggle of faith when one has lived long enough in pursuit of God through Christ and His Spirit, is this question: "My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?" This is the only question left when all the others have been exhausted. "God, where are you? Why do you not do something? I do not feel as though I have any relationship with you - I feel abandoned by you." I have had times when I asked this myself, and I have had times when I asked it in prayer on behalf of other people who are struggling. Being the ultimate question, it is an expression of faith and faith's frustration. Only a person who believes there is a God asks this question. You wouldn't cry out to God in anguish if you had no belief in God. To ask the question is to affirm a faith. To ask it is also to express faith's doubt and aloneness.
The solace to this sublime question is the resurrection. I don't know what I would do with my faith if the resurrection hadn't happened. It is God's answer to the question - though it didn't come in the moment, didn't come "on time" and didn't give what I was hoping for. It came late, it didn't relieve the suffering but came after it was concluded. But it is the answer - the victory, the triumph. Faith cries in the crucifixion and triumphs in the resurrection. Thanks be to you Lord Christ.
In considering the injustice and the suffering of Christ - I have come to understand that there is nothing we experience of life's pain that Jesus didn't experience in passion week. Betrayal, abandonment, humiliation, mockery, physical and emotional torture, powerlessness, abuse, anguish of soul and physical pain - all concluding in death. If we are to follow Christ, his experience in passion week is not a cheery invitation. Paul said, "I want to share in the fellowship of his sufferings." I wonder if I would say that? I wonder if the American Church would say this. And then, the question.
The epicenter of the struggle of faith when one has lived long enough in pursuit of God through Christ and His Spirit, is this question: "My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?" This is the only question left when all the others have been exhausted. "God, where are you? Why do you not do something? I do not feel as though I have any relationship with you - I feel abandoned by you." I have had times when I asked this myself, and I have had times when I asked it in prayer on behalf of other people who are struggling. Being the ultimate question, it is an expression of faith and faith's frustration. Only a person who believes there is a God asks this question. You wouldn't cry out to God in anguish if you had no belief in God. To ask the question is to affirm a faith. To ask it is also to express faith's doubt and aloneness.
The solace to this sublime question is the resurrection. I don't know what I would do with my faith if the resurrection hadn't happened. It is God's answer to the question - though it didn't come in the moment, didn't come "on time" and didn't give what I was hoping for. It came late, it didn't relieve the suffering but came after it was concluded. But it is the answer - the victory, the triumph. Faith cries in the crucifixion and triumphs in the resurrection. Thanks be to you Lord Christ.
Monday, January 19, 2009
Finding Time
Time is part of the created world. Genesis 1 says "there was evening and there was morning, the first day." Originally the cycle of moon and sun was our measure of time. Now it's more technical, but no less a part of the created world. The international measurement of time is the second, which is a 9 mm cycle of the radiation of a cesium atom. This 9 mm cycle apparently does not vary - ever. It takes one second. Or... it makes one second. Measuring a cesium atom's radiation is what atomic clocks are all about.
God however, does not live in time. Since He made it, it serves Him but He is not confined by it or controlled by it in any way. He lives in eternity, the eternal present. He told Moses that His name is "I Am."
Still, time has this beckoning way about it. We who live within it in our earthly lives want to understand it more and make peace with it. The fact that in the U.S. we spend about $20b per year on anti-aging suggests we certainly haven't made peace with it. Mostly, we fight it.
What about time in the big picture? The world's cultures have generally operated on one of two concepts of time - either cyclical or linear. These are really the only options, sort of. In cyclical time, "there is nothing new under the sun." Anything that is has been before. Anything that could be, only repeats what has already been. The first time the cycle went round it could have been interesting, but after that it's all "do overs" and thus the cyclical model is without purpose. The good thing about cyclical is that it doesn't end. Good thing? Same thing over and over, with no end? Futility is the word for this view of time, the word and the feeling.
In linear time things progress, there is meaning because there is movement in a forward direction. It's not a "round and round" experience, it's a forward moving experience. The past influences the future, there are new experiences. There is purpose. Problem is, in the linear view, there's also an end. If we know that whatever we do or experience is all going to wind up with an ending, then all the experiences and effort aren't worth anything. Cuz they just all get thrown out. If cyclical time felt futile, this feels fatal. Cyclical doesn't end, but there is nothing new. Linear has new, but it ends. So which is it, cyclical or linear?
Neither. Really.
The Bible speaks of a beginning and an end, a kind of linear view. The end however, is not so much a conclusion but a transition. A transition to a newness of life where Jesus "is making everything new (forever!)" When this transition happens, when Jesus consummates time, we'll live in eternity - outside of time - where Jesus is making all things new. Now we have endless time, but unlike the futility of cyclical time where everything old goes round and round, we have an eternal existence of never ending experiences that are always new. It never ends, but it's always new. This is the thrill of eternity where Jesus reigns. And the bible says of His reign that "His kingdom will never end." Good times. Yep.
God however, does not live in time. Since He made it, it serves Him but He is not confined by it or controlled by it in any way. He lives in eternity, the eternal present. He told Moses that His name is "I Am."
Still, time has this beckoning way about it. We who live within it in our earthly lives want to understand it more and make peace with it. The fact that in the U.S. we spend about $20b per year on anti-aging suggests we certainly haven't made peace with it. Mostly, we fight it.
What about time in the big picture? The world's cultures have generally operated on one of two concepts of time - either cyclical or linear. These are really the only options, sort of. In cyclical time, "there is nothing new under the sun." Anything that is has been before. Anything that could be, only repeats what has already been. The first time the cycle went round it could have been interesting, but after that it's all "do overs" and thus the cyclical model is without purpose. The good thing about cyclical is that it doesn't end. Good thing? Same thing over and over, with no end? Futility is the word for this view of time, the word and the feeling.
In linear time things progress, there is meaning because there is movement in a forward direction. It's not a "round and round" experience, it's a forward moving experience. The past influences the future, there are new experiences. There is purpose. Problem is, in the linear view, there's also an end. If we know that whatever we do or experience is all going to wind up with an ending, then all the experiences and effort aren't worth anything. Cuz they just all get thrown out. If cyclical time felt futile, this feels fatal. Cyclical doesn't end, but there is nothing new. Linear has new, but it ends. So which is it, cyclical or linear?
Neither. Really.
The Bible speaks of a beginning and an end, a kind of linear view. The end however, is not so much a conclusion but a transition. A transition to a newness of life where Jesus "is making everything new (forever!)" When this transition happens, when Jesus consummates time, we'll live in eternity - outside of time - where Jesus is making all things new. Now we have endless time, but unlike the futility of cyclical time where everything old goes round and round, we have an eternal existence of never ending experiences that are always new. It never ends, but it's always new. This is the thrill of eternity where Jesus reigns. And the bible says of His reign that "His kingdom will never end." Good times. Yep.
Monday, October 13, 2008
First and Last Words of the Big Story
The Big Story of the Bible is that the whole story is just the preamble to the really big story - the realer story, the most real experience of all - eternity with God. It's what we were made for and this side of heaven we live in what CS Lewis called "shadowlands." These are the lands where we see in a mirror only dimly because our sight and capacity are limited by our separated condition - from God. But Jesus the healer reconciler has come and with His grace he changed the whole direction of the story from separation from God to reconciliation with God. It happened by His grace, you get it when you receive him. How kind of God.
Well it's pretty dynamic to me that the closing sentence in the whole Biblical story is "The grace of Jesus Christ be with God's people. Amen." Of course, that would be the closing word on the Bible because Jesus is God's main character in the bible. That being so, "the grace of Jesus Christ be with God's people. Amen" is the opening word on eternity. Jesus and His grace - the door to eternity. So God's last words of the bible become the first words - the opening sentence in the much bigger much realer story. Yes, eternity begins for us because of Jesus and His grace.
Pretty exciting to me that the last words of the Bible's big story would be the first words that open the book on the story of eternity. Strikes me as being Just like God to do something like that. I think CS Lewis had it about right when he concluded his big story of Narnia with these words - "And for us this is the end of all the stories, and we can most truly say that they all lived happily ever after. But for them it was only the beginning of the real story. All their life in this world and all their adventures in Narnia had only been the cover and the title page: now at last they were beginning Chapter One of the Great Story, which no one on earth has read: which goes on for ever: in which every chapter is better than the one before." (Last Battle. 183-184)
Well it's pretty dynamic to me that the closing sentence in the whole Biblical story is "The grace of Jesus Christ be with God's people. Amen." Of course, that would be the closing word on the Bible because Jesus is God's main character in the bible. That being so, "the grace of Jesus Christ be with God's people. Amen" is the opening word on eternity. Jesus and His grace - the door to eternity. So God's last words of the bible become the first words - the opening sentence in the much bigger much realer story. Yes, eternity begins for us because of Jesus and His grace.
Pretty exciting to me that the last words of the Bible's big story would be the first words that open the book on the story of eternity. Strikes me as being Just like God to do something like that. I think CS Lewis had it about right when he concluded his big story of Narnia with these words - "And for us this is the end of all the stories, and we can most truly say that they all lived happily ever after. But for them it was only the beginning of the real story. All their life in this world and all their adventures in Narnia had only been the cover and the title page: now at last they were beginning Chapter One of the Great Story, which no one on earth has read: which goes on for ever: in which every chapter is better than the one before." (Last Battle. 183-184)
Monday, October 6, 2008
Believing Eternity
Someone once said that most Americans don't believe we will die. If we did, we would talk about it more. So either we don't believe it, or we are fearful about it - so we don't talk about it. If we could unmask it a bit though, maybe we can be better prepared and live with a different perspective.
If you are fortunate to have a loving family - perhaps there have been times you have made a family trip to a place you all love. In a larger family, usually people are traveling from different places to get to the place that everyone loves. Some are able to leave on Wednesday - and they get there early. Lucky ones. Others can't get away until Sunday afternoon - so they'll arrive later. The one's who aren't there yet can see the place in their mind's eye and love thinking about how wonderful the place is. Furthermore, they love thinking about the family members who have already been able to get there because they know the joy of the place. They're already having walks on the beach on a clear morning or dinners on the patio looking over the mountains while the conversation along with the wine and the love flows among them. Some were on a schedule that enabled them to arrive early, others were on a schedule that got them there later. The ones who were able to get there first feel so grateful for the joy of it, but they wait for the others to arrive so the joy will be fuller. The ones who have to travel later miss not being there, but they can see and feel the joy of it as they think about the family that are already there. Then a day will come when everyone is finally there. That's the best day of all. The fullest joy.
Could getting to heaven be something like this? Different travel schedules, anticipating joy, loving reunion, that lasts forever? It's encouraging to me. Jesus went first, the rest of the family will come in their own time.
If you are fortunate to have a loving family - perhaps there have been times you have made a family trip to a place you all love. In a larger family, usually people are traveling from different places to get to the place that everyone loves. Some are able to leave on Wednesday - and they get there early. Lucky ones. Others can't get away until Sunday afternoon - so they'll arrive later. The one's who aren't there yet can see the place in their mind's eye and love thinking about how wonderful the place is. Furthermore, they love thinking about the family members who have already been able to get there because they know the joy of the place. They're already having walks on the beach on a clear morning or dinners on the patio looking over the mountains while the conversation along with the wine and the love flows among them. Some were on a schedule that enabled them to arrive early, others were on a schedule that got them there later. The ones who were able to get there first feel so grateful for the joy of it, but they wait for the others to arrive so the joy will be fuller. The ones who have to travel later miss not being there, but they can see and feel the joy of it as they think about the family that are already there. Then a day will come when everyone is finally there. That's the best day of all. The fullest joy.
Could getting to heaven be something like this? Different travel schedules, anticipating joy, loving reunion, that lasts forever? It's encouraging to me. Jesus went first, the rest of the family will come in their own time.
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Faith with Questions
Matthew 27:46 About the ninth hour Jesus cried out in a loud voice, “Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani?”—which means, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”
Luke 23:46 Jesus called out with a loud voice, “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.” When he had said this, he breathed his last.
Jesus’ last words were a question and a statement. “Why have you forsaken me?” is the deepest question of a believer’s experience. Many would not say it, even though they thought it – because they fear that in some way this honest cry of despair might be an affront to God. There are many questions in the life of seeking – philosophical, anthropological, etc… The most profound are those however that are experiential. They are the cry of our heart, from the perspective we hold.
It is comforting to me that Jesus himself cried out to his father with this profound question of loneliness and pain. It’s comforting because I sometimes think if my faith were stronger, I wouldn’t feel some of these feelings of loneliness, wondering where God is, and why he doesn’t do something – show himself, heal someone, comfort or encourage someone, provide relief or a way out. That Jesus cried this question gives me affirmation and also makes it clear that the life of faith is not without the questions of faith. If Jesus still had a deep question, then I don’t feel that my questions are just a sign of spiritual immaturity or lack of faith.
I’m also reminded that all questions are in some small way, affirmations of faith. Jesus wouldn’t ask a question to a God in whom he didn’t believe. Nor would we. Any spiritual question demonstrates some level of faith, however small.
“Into your hands I commit my spirit” are the words Luke records as Jesus’ last. Imagine – this statement coming after that question. We can believe deeply and still have questions! We might say, to believe deeply is to keep asking questions. If God is infinite, there is always much about Him we do not know. If we have lived a life of seeking God, praying to him, experiencing life with him – then we are likely to have foundations of truth that we know are without question. We’re also likely to have questions. At times this duality is painful, at other times delightful and fascinating. The life of faith.
Luke 23:46 Jesus called out with a loud voice, “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.” When he had said this, he breathed his last.
Jesus’ last words were a question and a statement. “Why have you forsaken me?” is the deepest question of a believer’s experience. Many would not say it, even though they thought it – because they fear that in some way this honest cry of despair might be an affront to God. There are many questions in the life of seeking – philosophical, anthropological, etc… The most profound are those however that are experiential. They are the cry of our heart, from the perspective we hold.
It is comforting to me that Jesus himself cried out to his father with this profound question of loneliness and pain. It’s comforting because I sometimes think if my faith were stronger, I wouldn’t feel some of these feelings of loneliness, wondering where God is, and why he doesn’t do something – show himself, heal someone, comfort or encourage someone, provide relief or a way out. That Jesus cried this question gives me affirmation and also makes it clear that the life of faith is not without the questions of faith. If Jesus still had a deep question, then I don’t feel that my questions are just a sign of spiritual immaturity or lack of faith.
I’m also reminded that all questions are in some small way, affirmations of faith. Jesus wouldn’t ask a question to a God in whom he didn’t believe. Nor would we. Any spiritual question demonstrates some level of faith, however small.
“Into your hands I commit my spirit” are the words Luke records as Jesus’ last. Imagine – this statement coming after that question. We can believe deeply and still have questions! We might say, to believe deeply is to keep asking questions. If God is infinite, there is always much about Him we do not know. If we have lived a life of seeking God, praying to him, experiencing life with him – then we are likely to have foundations of truth that we know are without question. We’re also likely to have questions. At times this duality is painful, at other times delightful and fascinating. The life of faith.
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