An Enemy of God…Who, Me?

18 Thursday Oct 2012

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“You have heard that the ancients were told, ‘You shall not commit murder’ and ‘Whoever commits murder shall be liable to the court.’ But I say to you that everyone who is angry with his brother shall be guilty before the court; and whoever says to his brother, ‘You good-for-nothing,’ shall be guilty before the supreme court; and whoever says, ‘You fool,’ shall be guilty enough to go into the fiery hell.”
–Jesus; the Gospel of Matthew, 5:21-22

It is very good that you exist. This, according to philosophers and, I believe, the Bible, is the basis of love. I left off wondering whether I could really say that to an enemy, someone like, say, the killer of this 10-year old Colorado girl, or the Taliban who shot the 14-year old Pakistani girl who stood up in her country for the right for women to be educated. Is it really very good that these kinds of people exist?

In His famous speech, called the Sermon on the Mount because it was made on a hillside, Jesus equates anger with murder. Broadly speaking, it seems there are two kinds of anger. First, there is “other-centered” anger born out of wanting the best for another: “You knew the material but you failed the test!” Jesus’ anger was this kind of “other-centered” anger. The other kind of anger is “self-centered” anger. This anger arises in me when you act to thwart my will by not letting me have my way or what I think I deserve: “That idiot cut me off in traffic.” The vast majority of anger is this type, I think.

At first, Jesus’ equating anger with murder seems astonishing, particularly when I realize He is talking about any self-centered anger, even angry thoughts. After all, don’t we say, “sticks and stones can break my bones, but words can never hurt me.” Every school child learns this rhyme. We learn to excuse words spoken in anger at an early age. Yet Jesus doesn’t seem to distinguish between types of anger, all is equated with murder. The angry and the murderer are each destined for a “fiery hell.”

Why does Jesus do this, set this impossibly high standard by equating anger and murder? Isn’t it because anger is one of the roots of evil acts in the world? Jesus’ brother James says it this way (James 4:1-4):

“Where do you think all these appalling wars and quarrels come from? Do you think they just happen? Think again. They come about because you want your own way, and fight for it deep inside yourselves.

You lust for what you don’t have and are willing to kill to get it. You want what isn’t yours and will risk violence to get your hands on it. … You’re spoiled children, each wanting your own way. …

If all you want is your own way, flirting with the world every chance you get, you end up enemies of God and his way.”

Self-righteous anger denies that it is very good that the other exists. It says instead, “Get out of my way, your very existence is impeding me!” Murder may be the ultimate expression of this anger–the actual causing another to cease to exist–however, whether murder, other violent acts, abusive words, angry outbursts, or hurtful thoughts, all come from self-centered anger; the root is the same for all. So, according to James, even an angry thought born out of my self-centeredness makes me an enemy of God as much as the murderer!

It is very good that you exist. The murder kills; I act out of only run-of-the-mill anger; we are both guilty in the eyes of a Holy God. So, if I can’t say that it is very good that the killer exists, then how can I say it about myself? And yet, God says it about both of us, the angry and the murderer. How can that be? More thinking to come…

We Are Blessed

17 Wednesday Oct 2012

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God created man in His own image, in the image of God He created him; male and female He created them. God blessed them…
–The Biblical Creation Account; Genesis 1:27-28

In his book, Faith, Hope, Love, Josef Pieper examines the language we use to describe the various types of love, (e.g., self-love, friendship love, erotic love, selfless love) and finds a common theme regarding the nature of love: acceptance, in the sense of the Latin meaning, “good.” God’s first act toward created man and woman was to “bless” them, to praise their existence and to accept the first humans as “very good” (Genesis 1:31) “It is very good that you exist,” He says to all of mankind. This acceptance is based on nothing other than our very existence as humans, not our looks, our performance, or any other quality beyond our existence as humans.

Setting aside for a moment the fact we each have behaviors that should not be excused, stop and feel this statement: It is very good that you exist as a human being.

It is very good that you exist; for me, this offers the most profound comfort, a near tear-producing sense of acceptance in the core of my being. I feel a freedom I have never known, freedom from trying to earn acceptance and freedom from the fear of losing it. In God’s eyes, it is very good that I exist. God said it a little differently to His Son Jesus: “This is my Beloved in whom I wam well pleased.” This is the love God has for us, too.

Philosophers going back to Plato have tied one’s love to the acceptance of the other’s existence. Further, they have noticed that there are healthy degrees of acceptance. For example, I feel toward a stranger, and toward a friend, and toward my wife that it is very good that they each exist. Yet it is clear to me, and these philosophers agree, that I feel a different degree of passion toward a stranger than I feel toward my wife.

In the case of the stranger my affirmation of his goodness of existence simply acknowledges he is a creation of God. I have a general, caring passion–love–for him in the sense that he is a fellow human being. At the other end of the scale, however, my love toward my earthly beloved (my wife), entails an additional desire or passion to be united with her: a desire that we two become one flesh (Genesis 2:22-25). We remain remain distinct persons, but are united by a common passion to deeply know the other.

My longing for oneness with my wife is not surprising to me. It is a result of my Trinitarian theology. God is three separate persons, distinct in that the Son is the begotten of the Father and the Spirit precedes from Father and Son. And yet they are one in essence, each sharing the attributes of God. They are also one in relationship: theologians call it “mutual interpenetration,” Father, Son, and Spirit each in the other and each with the other in them. There is unity in their diversity.

I’m made in the image of God, Who is love. While God cannot share His essence with me, those things that make Him God, such as His infinite nature (I am forever finite), He has elected to allow me to share in His relationship; I am one with Him in relationship (see Jesus’ words in John 17:25-26). So, it is no surprise to me that in an earthly relationship I should long to be one in relationship with my beloved, my wife.

Great stuff, at least to me.

So, my love for another, in its most basic form, is the affirmation that it is very good that the other exists. But…doesn’t this understanding of love make it that much harder to obey Jesus and love my enemies, and in this particular case, Jessica’s killer? Can I really say to this killer, “It is very good that you exist?”

It Was Very Good

15 Monday Oct 2012

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God saw all that He had made, and behold, it was very good. And there was evening and there was morning, the sixth day.
–The Biblical Creation Account; Genesis 1:31

God talks to me a lot. That may sound funny to many; however, it is true. No, it is not an audible voice; rather, He speaks to me through others, usually authors, and most frequently through authors who are no longer living. Is has ceased to surprise me that as I am puzzling over a question authors will appear with whom I can enter into the question at hand. This quetins of loving one’s enemy is no exception. Enter Josef Pieper, a German Christian (Catholic) philosopher who specializes in the writings of Thomas Aquinas. My thinking is my interacting with his (Faith, Hope, Love, Ignatius Books) writing on love and that of others.

Love is one of the three theological virtues; faith and hope are the other two. The greatest of these is love (1Corinthians 13:13); faith and hope cannot be understood apart from love. But, what does it mean to love? Poets have tried for millennia to describe it. “How do I love thee…” Elizabeth Barrett Browning famously asks, then tries to answer. St. Paul, the poet, tries to describe love in his letter to Corinth (Love is patient, love is kind,…1Corinthians 13:4-8). Poetry, in fact, seems to be the only language we have to express love, and even often it seems inadequate even in the hands of a master poet.

St. John, often called the Apostle of Love, dispenses with poetry and states a brute fact: God is love (1John 4:8). This is what Christians believe and it is at the heart of the Christian conception of love: we must love our neighbors because God first loved us (1John 4:19); failure on our part calls into question our love for God (1John 4:20); mutual abiding, God in us, us in God, perfects love within us (1John 4:16-17).

The Christian account of creation begins with, “In the beginning, God created…” All that is other than the Trinitarian God Himself–Father, Son, Holy Spirit–has been created by God, this is the Christian view. At the end of the creation period (six days or day-ages), God “saw all that He had made, and behold, it was very good” (Genesis 1:31). It was very good. In God’s eyes, it is good that the creation exists. Why is the creation “good”?

To answer that question, it seems to me, is to answer the question, “Why did God create?” I can’t pretend to know the motives of God; however, perhaps we can infer at least some of the answer. The trajectory of the Christian scriptures, the Bible, tell us that God wants a relationship with us, and more than a God-servant relationship, He wants to share the very relationship with us that exists between God the Father and God the Son (Jesus). We are invited to be one with Jesus as Jesus is one with God the Father (John 17:25-26). Perhaps, then, the love that exists between the three persons of the Trinity is so profound that this loving God determined to share it with created beings made in His image (human beings, see Genesis 1:26).

Loving Enemies

15 Monday Oct 2012

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“You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be sons of your Father who is in heaven; for He causes His sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous. For if you love those who love you, what reward do you have? Do not even the tax collectors do the same? If you greet only your brothers, what more are you doing than others? Do not even the Gentiles do the same?”
–Jesus; The Gospel of Matthew, 5:43-47

In Colorado, a 10-year old girl, Jessica Ridgeway, is kidnapped and, days later, found dead in a field. The community is deeply shaken and scared. The killer is still at large.

We are told by Jesus to love this killer.

How can this be? By societal norms all would agree that the act itself was monstrous; many would call the killer a monster. Yet, Christians are called to respond by loving this person, the killer of a child. It seems to make no sense; surely Jesus is mistaken, He was really talking about your average run-of-the-mill enemy, right? the kind of person that just insults us or perhaps the neighbor who has a dog that barks all night. He didn’t really mean to love this sort of person, did He? Certainly they are beyond our love; only God could possibly love such a being.

Love the sinner, hate the sin, isn’t that our standard Christian response? Hating the sin is easy; loving the sinner is fine in theory, but it seems hard in this particular case to be able to love the person who would perpetrate such a horrific crime and inflict such pain on the young girl’s parents and the community at large. How does one love while simultaneously hoping the killer is caught and punished? And we are commanded to do more than love, we must also pray for this killer. Certainly there can be no harder command of Jesus than His command that we love and pray for this kind of neighbor.

These kinds of questions have led me to wonder about the true nature of love as God intended it, and not as our culture has corrupted it (e.g., reducing love to sex or tolerance). Maybe by understanding how to love and pray for this killer as God would have me I can better understand what He means when He says to love Him with all that I am and to love my neighbor, including the terrorists, my literal neighbors, and my family members as I love myself.

If you are following along, I’m going to try to keep the individual posts of my journey through this shorter; however, they may be more frequent because I want to work through some of what I’ve been reading, and this is my means to do so.

Divine Moments

11 Thursday Oct 2012

Posted by in All, Ordinariness

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It is evening and the day is done. My first twelve hours of silent retreat. Somewhere in the retreat house a blower just cut off. Now the only sound is the quiet hiss of gas flowing to the fireplace before me. The flames are hypnotic. Next to me my tea steeps, a bug crawls on my Bible. It is a wonderful time to simply be aware.

Ordinariness. The word keeps floating in my mind. A friend of mine, a musician, likes to say that music gets into his head and does not leave; he calls it a music worm. This must be what he means.

Previously I wrote about the kingdom of heaven when battleships and bullet trains were on my mind. It sounds exciting doesn’t it?, and I like exciting. Skydiving; scuba diving; motorcycling too fast; aerobatics; flying through thunderstorms, snow, and ice…I’ve always liked excitement, the rush of adrenalin. Yet, even in those things I found rush giving way to routine and I moved on.

Perhaps battleships and bullet trains are our attempt to give some urgency to God’s kingdom-at-hand. Or, perhaps we are trying to jazz up God in a culture that is all about sizzle. Regardless, these aren’t the images Jesus uses; rather, He uses wheat growing in a field, a treasure buried long enough to have been forgotten, a pearl from an oyster that grew layer by layer, and ten women waiting so long for the bridegroom to show up that they fell asleep. Were Jesus to use a modern metaphor, He might have said, “The kingdom of God is like watching paint dry.” Maybe it is better, or at least more majestic, to think of it like a glacier: imperceptible movement, but it reshapes the terrain.

After writing about the Kingdom the other day, I was sitting with some friends when I had the distinct, and disorienting, experience of God letting me see across time and space. In the briefest of moments I saw wars, earthquakes, floods, kids going to school, adults at work, families together, acts of kindness, acts of meanness, sporting events…billions of people, past, present, future, living life.

I give my life to the King. The fullness of God indwells me, Father, Son, Holy Spirit. The past is gone, the future not yet arrived; there is only this present moment, and God is God of the present. In Christ I am one with our Father as Jesus is. Spirits intertwined in Love. This moment, so ordinary, is made divine by the present of God. My life becomes a microcosm of the Kingdom of God.

Two days ago, a friend of mine, upon hearing me ramble about my obsession with the ordinary, remarked that he believed I was using “ordinary” to describe the sacred. I think he is right. In the ordinary, the Kingdom of God is at hand. Where else would we find Him?

The Kingdom of God is Like…

08 Monday Oct 2012

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The kingdom of God is like…(Matthew 13)

  • Weeds mixed in with wheat, growing together until separated at the harvest;
  • A mustard seed that grows larger than the other plants;
  • A small portion of sour dough (leaven) that sours the rest of the dough;
  • Treasure found in a field, its is worth selling all one’s possessions to buy the field;
  • A pearl so valuable it is also worth selling all one has to buy it;
  • A large net that gathers all kinds of fish until they are sorted at the processing plant; or
  • Ten virgins awaiting a wedding, five who were foolish and five who were prudent (Matthew 25).

Theologian G.K. Chesterton, likens the movement of “orthodoxy” through history to the Church being

behind madly rushing horses, seeming to stoop this way and to sway that, yet in every attitude having the grace of statuary and the accuracy of arithmetic. The Church in its early days went fierce and fast with any warhorse; yet it is utterly unhistoric to say that she went merely mad along one idea, like vulgar fanaticism. She swerved left and right, so exactly to avoid enormous obstacles (Orthodoxy).

Israel’s King David (Psalm 29) describes God’s presence and voice–the King in His kingdom–as thundering over the waters, breaking cedar trees, striking like lightning, shaking the desert, twisting oaks, and striping forests bare.

Other writers have compared the kingdom to a ship at sea, not a cruise ship but a battle ship. We ought to come to church, says a writer whose name is now forgotten to me, not in our shorts and flip-flops with our umbrella drinks and chatting merrily, but in our battle gear: our helmets pulled down low over our eyes and our life preservers strapped on tightly with the “battle stations” klaxon blaring in our ears.

In my mind is this imagery: a bullet train. The train is moving fast, much too fast. Observers would say it is careening down the track. The normal, rhythmic clickty-clack of the wheels moving over the track now sounds like machine gun fire. With every imperfection in the track, around every turn the train feels like it will jump the track, hurling itself into space, turning itself into a twisted pile of scrap. The wide-eyed passengers are holding on for dear life, bodies covered in bruises, arms and legs straining to hold themselves secure against g-forces that work to pry them loose and toss them about like a favorite toy in the jaws of a playful puppy. Yet, the train, somehow, stays on the track.

All of this imagery captures my imagination, my heart pounds. The excitement. The danger of not being fully in control. Acts of great courage. The camaraderie in the adventure of being part of something bigger than any of us. The power of God on display in shock and awe…and yet.

Here I sit. My office is dimly lit. The quiet is broken only by the occasional voices of co-workers. Music plays softly in the office next door. Soon, I’ll be preparing another lesson for an upcoming class. Later, I’ll be sitting with someone, invited to enter into their story, listening to both them and the Holy Spirit. I’ve got to pay a few bills and set up a voice mailbox. Around me, people are still out work, some are homeless. A stranger smiles at another. A ten-year old girl is missing. A cancer patient gets a last wish. We over eat; much of the world starves. A soldier dies in Afghanistan. Two lovers are married. Iran and Israel trade threats. A prayer is answered. The civil war in Syria goes on. Infants are born, people will die; some will know Jesus, most will not have turned to Him. Today is like yesterday. Tomorrow is projected to be the same. The kingdom of God is also like this.

The ordinariness of my day is made more pronounced by the image of the bullet train careening through my mind.

Abundant Life–Now?

01 Monday Oct 2012

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The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly. John 10:10

Life and abundant life.  One commentator I read believed that this verse is the pivotal verse in the book of biblical gospel of John.  According to this commentator’s view, prior to this verse Jesus was telling us how to have life, by the necessity of following Him, becoming His disciple.  After this verse, according to this commentator’s view, Jesus begins to tell us about abundant life in Him as His disciple.

So, I’ve been thinking about abundant life.  Not long ago I was in a discussion with other Christians and the prevalent view of abundant life seemed to be that it was ahead of us.  Some believed it is the life we have when we are resurrected with Jesus in the new creation.  Some believed it was available in this life if only we could love God more, or pray better, or be healed of past hurts, etc.  Others felt that abundant life came eventually from a growing intimacy with Christ.  Most in the discussion felt as though they had not yet achieved this abundant life about which Jesus talked; their own lives seemed so hard.  Abundant life seemed like a goal always before us, just a little out of reach.

That conversation troubled me.

I was troubled mostly because I have been bouncing around holding all of those views, and my own life didn’t feel particularly abundant.  A single question kept haunting me: Are the promises of Jesus only for the future, or are they also for the here and now? I have to believe they are also for the present; if God in His fullness dwells in my now, then how can His promises only be for when I die or when I achieve some level of performance or status with God?  Then, if this is what I really believed, what did it say for my belief about abundant life?  Was it really an ever-distant goal?

A radical thought came to me: what if my life, as it is right now, is abundant.

That changes everything.

My life is typical of the American middle class.  It is reasonably comfortable.  I have a great wife, a nice house, two dogs (the good one and the bad one), hobbies, etc.  I have a good job and I’ve accomplished some pretty terrific things in life.  Then there are the “pesky” things: those things I say I wish I hadn’t, and those deeds I do I would really like to undo.  And the temptations that continually pull, though I have to admit not quite like before.  Can this be the abundant life of which Jesus talked?  Yes, and it has nothing to do with any of the things I just listed.

I now see my life as abundant because God is in it and because, as I’ve said elsewhere in this blog, that I believe through the power of the Holy Spirit I am becoming one with Jesus in love; Jesus draws me into relationship with our Father.  Said differently, the relationship that is available between God the Father and Jesus the Son is the same relationship God wants with me.  My life is abundant now and becoming abundant.

How can life be both abundant now and becoming abundant?  Back to the marriage metaphor used so often by God.  When I got married nearly 25 years ago I thought I understood love.  I was so in love with my wife-to-be, and indeed I was.  But, as with many things, I couldn’t know what I didn’t know.  I couldn’t know about love from the perspective of being in love together for 25 years.  Now, I look back and realize how little I knew about love when we were first married as compared to my much deeper understanding of it now, and how little I really loved my wife as compared to how much I love her now.  And, I expect in another 25 years my conception of love will be that much deeper and I’ll look back to this point in my life and realize how little I knew about it.  So, I can say that I am in love with my wife and becoming more in love.  Both are true.

I think the same can be said of abundant life.  My life right now is abundant.  As I look back on my life as a Christian I can see that I had little real understanding of this abundance, and I know I will look back in the future and see that even now I had a less well formed conception of it.  But, like love, I can only have the understanding of it that I have right now.  My life with God has been abundant, is abundant now, and is becoming more abundant.  Abundance in life is a journey not a goal.  And, given that growing in relationship with an infinite being–God–I believe the journey of abundant life will be an eternal journey.

So, what about all the stuff in my life that doesn’t feel so abundant?  Well, regarding the material stuff I hope I would be content with or without it, to still view my life as abundant.  And the stuff in me, the wrongdoing, the temptations, the…junk?  Perhaps it is like the material stuff, it is just there and God is at work freeing me from it.  However, God gives me abundance in all of it.  My “abundance” comes from relationship with Him, not my material, spiritual, emotional, psychological, or physical stuff.  The deeper my relationship, the more abundant my life

Author de Caussade, in his delightful little book, Abandonment to Divine Providence, says that to want anything in our lives other than what is happening and what we have in the present moment is to want something other than what God wants for us, it is to claim that we know what is better for ourselves than God knows.  I believe he is right.

To live in the moment with God, to be thankful for all things knowing He is drawing me into an ever deeper relationship with Him, is abundant life.  I have it now.

Living in the Ordinariness

24 Monday Sep 2012

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Ordinariness.  That is where I feel I am.  The activities of today feel like those of yesterday and what I can expect for tomorrow.  Nothing spectacular.  Nothing to distract me from the ordinariness.  Only sameness day in and day out.  I’m not complaining, at least that’s what I tell myself.  In many ways ordinariness is like being in the desert.  And, if you have clicked on the link above, “About Curate Mike,” you will know I like the desert; it is a place where I can hear.

Life seems long in this ordinariness.  I’ve been about the living of life for more than five decades and I’ve been reflecting on that lately.  Periodically, over my life, there have been reports of an impending scientific breakthrough that would result life longer than the eighty-ish years we average.  When those reports surface, I find myself wondering whether I would avail myself of such a life-extending “pill” were one to be made available?

But why stop with simply extending this life?  Extrapolating out, what if a pill were developed that would stop the aging process where I am…would I take it?  I’m still in good health and of reasonably sharp mind, and I’ve gained some wisdom from living a while; would I take the pill and stop my own aging?  Better yet, imagine a pill that would return me to my peak physical and mental condition while I retain the wisdom I’ve gained…would I take that sort of “eternal life” pill?

No.

I miss my home.  I used to travel to Europe occasionally in a previous job.  It was fun to go and see new sights and have new experiences.  However, no matter how well I tried to fit in I was always an alien in a foreign land.  So, after some time I found I missed my home with my wife and friends, and its familiar sights, sounds, smells, and tastes.  But even all of its wonders and familiarity, even this place is simply not home for me; I’m an alien even here.  There is an echo of a voice within me reminding me of a different home for which I long, the place in which I was really created to live.

And there is another reason I wouldn’t take that kind of eternal life pill.  I find that it is wearying being me.  I know what goes on within me that you can’t see (and what you can see is often bad enough): the radical self-centeredness; the thoughts and feelings of pride, greed, lust, intolerant judgment; wishing I were funnier, smarter, more athletic,  more musical, better liked…perhaps you get the idea.  And, in the middle of the night I am sometimes haunted by my past decisions as I lie awake.  Sometimes people refer to this stuff as “baggage.”  It seems the longer one lives the more baggage one accumulates.  At least that is my experience.

As a Christian fellow I know that God has forgiven me and continues to forgive me for all this stuff.  He takes the baggage from me and yet I still feel its weight; that is one of the tensions of the Christian life, I think.  I’m forgiven, but I have to persevere in the battle against myself and endurethe consequence of feeling the pain of people I hurt.  At this moment, in the ordinariness of life with nothing to distract me, this battle within me seems particularly wearisome; the old baggage seems especially heavy.  And in this ordinariness with no distraction my dissatisfaction with myself becomes more acute.  I can hear the echo of that same voice, the voice of God who spoke me into existence, calling to me to become who He created me to be.  I long for that restful life.

Sure, I have hope in the ordinariness.  As I have said before, I have the ordinary hopes of experiencing small, God-made changes in me and the great foundational hope of one day being a child of my Father in a way that I am only now through, or in, Jesus…that way of living seems heavenly to me.

But, to remain as I am now for all eternity, after all these years still being unable to change my basic character by trying harder…oh my, no, I do not want that.  I remember not too many years ago when I didn’t even have Jesus in my life, which meant that my only hope of any changes in me came from my teeth-gritting effort and through gurus and self-help books…all of which had ultimately failed me up to that point…and, well, living for all eternity with only that hope seems particularly hellish.

Hope: Now and Not Yet

17 Monday Sep 2012

Posted by in All, Hope

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My foundational hope, the hope I have when all other hope is gone, is that all things in my life are brought about by God to bring me into the transformative union of likeness of God’s son, Jesus; this, of course, is through the power of the Holy Spirit, the personification of the loving relationship between Father and Son. (Of course, this assumes that I believe in God and have not strayed from following Him.) Further, one day I will be with God (God will be among us–Revelation 21:3) for all of eternity in the fully restored creation with no more death, mourning, crying, or pain. Ultimately, my hope is this: I will see God’s face and His name will be on my forehead (Revelation 22:4).

This is an extraordinary, ultimate hope. Frankly, it is beyond my comprehension (1Corinthians 2:9). It is the very definition of hope: longing for the ultimate good, the yearning that seems to be within each of us for the not-yet-being. But…what about now? The world today is filled with so much anger, pain, greed, self-centeredness, intolerance (even in its best definition), unhappiness, the list goes on-and-on. In my own world I often seem trapped inside this body that is wracked with selfishness; voices in my head, mine and others, condemn me. In my own pain I cause pain for others.

Regarding my world, it is becoming increasingly easy for me to find ordinary hope–the hope found in day-to-day living. The idea that God is drawing me into a deeper loving relationship with Him and through this love is transforming me into the likeness of Jesus is compelling. I have such a clear image/feeling in my soul of what that relationship will be like that I am increasingly willing to endure anything to experience it. Sure, I have my attention diverted from time-to-time; however, as quickly as I can refocus on the goal–relationship with Christ–then my hope returns. I have the great ordinary hope that in Jesus I am already the child of God that I am becoming.

Finding ordinary hope for the world around me is harder. Sure, I can look at the world and know that one day it will be restored and all the hardship and death will be gone; my foundational hope for the world is nicely intact. But for today…where can I find ordinary hope as I read the newspaper? I don’t think I can apart from my own ordinary and foundational hope with God.

I’m not particularly given to progressivism (theological postmillennialism), believing that the world–its human inhabitants–will get better as history proceeds. History simply doesn’t seem to support that view. So, what should I make of this world? My head tells me that given the design constraints (i.e., God wants a loving relationship with humans with free will), this is the best possible world God could have created to ensure the most (but not the majority–Matthew 7:13-14) of us fall in love with Jesus; any other created world would result in even fewer entering into an eternal life of knowing God (John 17:3). I also know that God is active in this world in His way.

I know that some try to find ordinary find hope in the perceived security of a large 401(k), or the markets (stocks, bonds, gold, commodities, etc.), or a good job, or the green movement. Some try to numb their lack of hope with drugs or alcohol or cutting; for others, the drug of choice is distraction by cars, boats, big homes, travel, busy lives, multiple sexual partners, etc.

Apart from God I cannot see any ordinary hope for this world. Certainly not all of the things in the paragraph above are bad if experienced rightly within their proper context; however, none can provide hope as defined as moving toward the ultimate good, becoming better, progressing as not-yet-beings as the ancients defined hope. At best these things are temporal, failing to provide any real hope. I think we humans are quite resourceful in the ways we concoct to find ordinary hope in the face of the reality of this world.

The only hope, ordinary and foundational, that I can find for myself and the world around me is the hope of knowing Jesus (Philippians 3:7-16). If this is true, then maybe we Christians should stop shouting, “Thou shalt not…” at the world, being just another shrill voice in the din of angry voices in a world full of hate. Just maybe we ought to offer a positive voice asking the gentle question, “Where do you find hope?” But we need to know just where we find our own hope so that we can offer t freely to others (2Peter 3:15).

I’m going to begin asking people this question, where do you find hope? I’ll let you know how it goes.

Children of God

10 Monday Sep 2012

Posted by in All, Hope

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But as many as received Him, to them He gave the right to become children of God—John 1:12

So, I have been asking myself that same question I posed earlier in this series of blogs on the theological virtues…what is the Good News of Christ for me? The elementary things I mentioned earlier, repentance, faith toward God, resurrection from the dead, and eternal judgment have all had their day, their time of primacy, in my thinking about the Good News for me. Because they are foundation, they remain very important. But, they are no longer enough. The question:

Isn’t there something more?

has continued to plague me.

Now I find the Good News–my foundational hope–is in the promise of God that has been increasingly revealed over thousands of years. Seems like a no-brainer, but it hasn’t been for me. The promise started with God’s promise of land and becoming a great nation made to Abram (Genesis 12:1-3). It opened up more as a promise of kingdom with God’s man always on the throne in the promise made to King David (2Samuel 7:8-17). With the later prophets there were glimpses of something more, an early marriage metaphor (e.g., Hosea 1:2) and of God delighting in us (Zephaniah 3:17).

Yet, I was confused. With the person of Jesus came the doctrine of the Trinity formulated by the early church fathers: “God is three persons (Father, Son, Holy Spirit); Each person is fully God; There is only one God.” In the context of the Trinity there were many metaphors: friend of Jesus (John 15:14), slave (bond-servant) of Jesus (Galatians 1:10), bride of Jesus (Revelation 21:2), child of God (John 1:12), united with God (John 14:23; 17:21), sibling of Jesus (Romans 8:29), and our being filled with the Holy Spirit (John 14:16-17). As I moved past the elementary things of what God had done for me, I found I had an identity crisis regarding who I was as a Christian. Each of these metaphors gives a different relational image between me and God…which is it?

Over the past five or six years and with the help of many men and women past and present, each much smarter than I am, the promise of God has been slowly dawning on me. Here is how I see it at this point in my journey with Jesus:

I am being united with Christ through the power of the Holy Spirit; Christ brings me into oneness with our Father (not in the pantheistic sense). Though it doesn’t conflate all of the above metaphors, I think it happens like this:

For more than 40 years I was a son of Satan (John 8:44). It was an abusive relationship, a sick distortion of love as with any abusive relationship; this one masquerades as father-son but is truly master-slave in the worst sense. When I turned to Jesus, all I knew was slavery and abuse disguised as love. While I believe that at that moment I actually became God’s son, I didn’t know it nor did I understand what it meant. So, I acted as I knew how, as a slave of Jesus.

It is much like any human who has been abused. It takes a long time for him or her to begin to trust someone who genuinely loves them. As Jesus’ slave, I was always waiting for and expecting the abuse; my image of God was a God who tallies mistakes and punishes capriciously. As I began to believe God could be trusted, we became friends and we interacted as friends. And, over time, as sometimes happens with human friends, our love as friends began to deepen into something more.

Along with some theologians I believe that the Holy Spirit is the personification of the loving relationship between Jesus and His Father. Their relationship is so real is has personhood. That same personified love is helping me to become one spirit with Jesus (1Corinthians 6:16-17; the two become one, the marriage metaphor). As I learn to cooperate with the Spirit in me to become increasingly purified through my obedience and God’s help and discipline, I draw closer in unity with Christ. (St. John of the Cross used a window metaphor: the purer the glass the more light shines through.) So in Christ, to use St. Paul’s phrase, I am actually God’s child even now. God the Father looks at me with the same loving gaze as He looks at Jesus. With Christ in me, another of Paul’s phrases, and the work of the Holy Spirit, I an actually becoming one with Jesus, taking on His characteristics (the so-called fruits of the Spirit of Galatians 5:22-23, and I gaze upon our Father with the gaze of a truly loving son, the gaze of Jesus.

St. John of the Cross says this (Ascent of Mount Carmel):

Love effects a likeness between the lover and the loved.

Love is the transformative agent for humans into the likeness of God as we were first created to be (Genesis 1:27). It should be no surprise; after all, God is love (1 John 4:8) and knows us only through love (1Corinthians 8:3). Therefore, as I love Jesus more deeply I find I increasingly become like Him; the two of us becoming one through the power of Love personified, the Holy Spirit.

So, this is the promise of God for me, it is the basis of my fundamental hope: that I am united with Jesus in love through the power of the Holy Spirit, and that Jesus will lead me into oneness with our Father. It is the greatest not-yet-being kind of hope, the only real hope for me to become who I really am and was created to be.

Some have hopes of a reward of a big mansion in heaven (John 14:2) or to finally become holy (1Peter 1:16) or to sit on a cloud for all eternity playing a harp (that sounds more like an agonizing existence to me). I look forward to being face-to-face with the One I am coming to love so deeply, becoming one with: Jesus. This is the only reward I want: the time to know God intimately as I truly am, and, through Jesus, to be in a genuine Father-child relationship with our Father as a part of the family of God. This is my foundational hope.

I think this is the foundational hope offered by God to the world. I believe the world is desperate for this hope.