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)
Monday, October 13, 2008
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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