Sunday, February 5, 2017

Too Heavenly Minded?

I am not sure why, as a child and much of my early adulthood, I pictured God somewhere, up there, in heaven. I seemed to nurture pictures of heaven and all its wonderment as that which spatially exists "above," while I and all of my worries exist here "below." While this may simply illustrate my need for metaphors in learning to relate to the world around me, there is also biblical imagery that seems to authenticate the portrayal. Sketching out the God who exists beyond all I know, the writers of Scripture describe the divine throne as "high and lofty," the name of the LORD as existing above all names. Yet, some of the time I find even metaphors are misleading, when they cease to point beyond themselves. Though the Scriptures use the language and imagery of loftiness, I've noticed over the years that their pronouncement of God's existence as far more than something "above." Hasn't the Incarnation, which I'm still celebrating, radically erased the likeness of a distant God? And haven't I been excitedly stricken recently by the message that's been coming again and again in every avenue of my life - marriage to gluing up a board. From reading to music? Bill, the kingdom of God is around you!


Over the years, I've been confronted with many objections to Christianity, but there is one that stands out in my mind that is particularly troubling.  I'm not pointing fingers when I say my faith tradition added somewhat too it.  That is; the argument that to be a "good" Christian boy is to withdraw from the world around me, to follow Bible stories with a wishful heart and a myth that insisted I not stop thinking and believing that all will be right in the end because God says so. It was in such a vein that Karl Marx depicted Christianity as a kind of drug that anesthetizes its consumers to the suffering in the world and the wretchedness of life. Sigmund Freud argued similarly that belief in God functions as an infantile dream that helps one evade the pain and helplessness both felt and seen all around. Now, it's not that I find these critiques and others like them troubling because I'm finding them an accurate picture of the kingdom Jesus described. Rather I'm finding them extremely troubling because I've been prone, so many times, to live as if Freud and Marx are quite right in their analyses.



I been realizing more than ever that I've lived in a tight box and a minimalist spiritual life, living comfortably as if in my own world, intent to tell my feel-good stories while withdrawing from the harder scenes of life, content to view the kingdom of God as a world far away from the present and the rooms of heaven as mere futuristic promises. To many times I've seen the kingdom as the place I was journeying toward, the better country of which the writer of Hebrews describes. I am confronted more and more by my conscious of building chasms that stand between kingdom and earth, today and tomorrow, the physical and the spiritual, my believing world and the world of neighbors. I've noticed in the last few years, subconsciously, the earth is something fleeting and irrelevant.  Kind of like: one more commodity here for my use, like the shampoo, hand cream bottle or shower cap the hotel provides in their bathroom; all the while Christ is away preparing my permanent room.

I'm convinced that these chasms I've allowed not only provided a posture irresponsible for abundant life and love of my neighbors, they betray the identity and decree of the Good Creator my faith professes. The stories Jesus left the world with are so much more than wishful thinking; His proclamations of a kingdom here and now are far from permissions of escapism. Furthermore, to view the world around me as a temporary place negates the words of, I would think, any Christian's most sacred prayer. Jesus taught His followers to pray: God's kingdom come, God's will be done—on earth as it is in heaven. What does it mean that Christ repeatedly declared the kingdom of God as here and now all around me? What does it mean that for lack of human praise the very rocks will cry out at the glory of their creator while the trees will clap their hands? Far from being a non-spiritual, kingdom-irrelevant commodity, the earth is filled with rooms of faith, staircases and ladders that assure a constant traffic between heaven and earth, rooms of a good kingdom now seen in part and one day to be seen in full. Surely the Lord is in this place; how often is it simply that I'm not aware of it? If I'm going to take Christ's proclamations of the kingdom seriously, I've got to intentionally live as though I'm in the house of God, here and now.

Yes, Bill, you do believe at your deepest level that there are eternal dwellings, in the day when tears will be no more, and in the One Who is preparing a house of many rooms. And yet, you live with your personal, unique experience of these promises here and now. Neither Christ nor the kingdom He came to make known is a static entity, something that mattered long ago and might matter once again but not today amidst the world as you know it! On the contrary, all of history, the stories of salvation, and the Incarnation itself, declare that your God is far more hands-on than what your five senses experience. 

Father, God, I give praise and thanksgiving for the fact that Your Son, Jesus the Christ is not merely the One who will be near me in all eternity but that He is right here, all around me in this world, today, reigning in a kingdom that is both present and approaching, going out into the depths of cities and neighborhoods that His house may be filled like Luke said in his gospel. I commit this moment to live as one aware of the house I live in, ready for the ladders that extend between heaven and earth, and anxious to invite the world inside. Amen