On Heaven as it is on Earth

“On Heaven as it is on earth.”

I do recognize that this is a direct misquotation of the Lord’s Prayer. Forgive me for that.   I hope this is in no way sacrilegious or dishonoring to the magnificence and glory that we will surely one day encounter in heaven.  But I think it is a pretty powerful thought.  Let me explain.

The other night—a sleepless one, where there was nothing in particular restraining me from sleep, yet a continuous sequence of nothings rendering the fading hope of a little kip as elusive as a vanishing cloud under the burning summer sun—I found myself visiting a blog that I had read through just over a year ago.  Many, to be sure, may have also been exposed to the incredible journey of Katie Davis—a 21-year old adoptive mother of 13 little Ugandan daughters, founder of Amazmia Ministries, currently (and most permanently) living in Uganda.  Along with thousands of others, I have at times been quite drawn to her bold story of love, sacrifice, obedience, and blessing.  At 19 years of age, she left home, her boyfriend, everything she knew, and took on the role of Mommy to 3 precious little girls.  I don’t mean to glamorize her life, or exonerate her sacrifice above any other.  I certainly don’t think everyone needs to move to Africa (not to mention, alone) and adopt 13 children, but I do think her example is living proof that we can give EVERYTHING to God.  Absolutely everything.  Nothing could ever be too much.  Katie’s life is so completely full.  Every day is a mission field.  Every day seems to hold incredible adventures, blessings, and trials.  Yet, in some ways, her life is even normal.  She loves her daughters as they love her, they read stories together—laugh, play, get sick, get better, and eat dinner together.  I imagine Katie even has days, just like I do—where we wake up (or lie awake) and think—“What in the world am I doing here?”  I am sure there are, or have been, days where Katie wanted to quit.  I am sure there have been times where her heart felt like it was ripped out of her chest, where the hurt was so deep or loneliness was so great that even breathing became a chore.  And then, there may have been times where her heart maybe even felt numb, or almost desensitized to the world moving around her.  I am sure there are days Katie almost talked herself into packing up and moving home—that her sacrifices there weren’t really needed, or that perhaps the easier road was really where God wanted her.  (I realize I am speaking for her quite a bit here, but even the Savior of the world asked God to “take this cup from [him].”)  But then, looking at the pictures of Katie, surrounded by her loving, precious, happy family—I thought of how incredible it will be one day, when all of those souls are gathered around her in heaven and are no longer her adopted children, saved by grace after enduring trials we have never even imagined, but they will be whole creations, at one with her in the Creator.  I thought of her whole family in a mansion grander than any on this earth.  I thought of the love and fullness that Katie and her family would experience in heaven because of their obedience, sacrifices, and love here on this earth.  And I prayed for a second, “Lord, on earth as it is on heaven…”  And that is when it clicked.  

Bounce back.

Almost 3 years ago, I went on my first study-tour to the Near East with George DeJong.  We actually began our journey in Egypt, and worked our way over to the Sinai Peninsula, through Jordan, and up to Israel.  We followed the journey of the Hebrews as they were taken out of captivity in Egypt and in to the Promised Land.  A year later, I joined Ray Vander Laan on a trip through Israel and Turkey.  There, on the rugged Turkish hills—land forgotten and unnoticed by most “visitors” to the country, land that our feet came to know so well, and land that taught me so much about the story of our God and His people—I remember a small little faith lesson that I believe was a bit unplanned (as so many of Mr. Ray’s are).  I think we had passed a bit of trash on the road, or—given the scorching desert heat—perhaps his stance on global warming came in to question.   But I remember he was commenting on our role as Christians to be good stewards of the land, the earth.  He said that we had been given dominion here to rule over the resources God placed here in a way that would honor and glorify the Creator.  Now—this particular concept was not necessarily new news, as I had been working for a youth mountain hiking ministry in Colorado for the previous 7 summers.  There I developed an appreciation for the land and learned about our relationship with the natural world—the Creator, and His creation.  Mr. Ray also told us how diligently the Hebrews would work and tend to their land.  They saw their land as God’s charge to them and their purpose would be fulfilled in the honor with which they tended the land.  They would pass on their fields generation to generation, always hoping to leave the land better, more fertile for the future generations.  

But what Mr. Ray said next was new.  It did bring entirely new light to my idea of Godly Purpose on this earth.  He said that part of the reason the Hebrews were so diligent in their tending of the land was because of their dutiful commitment to their God-given dominion over the earth, but another aspect was a result of their their understanding of the Covenant.  Part of God’s promise to Abraham was certainly referring to a Promised Land land flowing with milk and honey, where they would not be enslaved.  But the other Hebraic understanding included the comprehension of a place to serve God, and then extend His kingdom.  Each square foot of land that the ancient Jews would work, was a square foot of land that had been reconciled to God.  The Jews thought of their service as literally bringing down the Kingdom of heaven, in accordance with the ancient prayer, “on earth as it is in Heaven.”  

And I have never been one to “get into” end times studies or even postulate too extensively or concretely on the reality of heaven, but this next discussion made a lot of sense to me.  Mr. Ray said that perhaps (just perhaps—always only a suggestion), there wasn’t a new place that we would ascend to in order to enjoy eternity, but maybe this earth was really it.  Maybe this earth was also part of the “all things reconciled to Him…” from II Corinthians 5, or from Acts 13, “Repent and return, so that your sins may be wiped away, in order that times of refreshing may come from the presence of the Lord; and that he may send Jesus, the Christ appointed for you, whom heaven must receive until the period of the restoration of all things about which God spoke by the mouth of His holy prophets from ancient time.”  

God’s ordained Words, the very Words of God—a period of restoration, not recreation.  

We will dwell on the new earth—yet, perhaps not an entirely new world or some floating pearly city in the sky. 

And this realization gave me a renewed sense of purpose.  The work I do here is actually aiding in the restoration and reconciliation of “all things.”  Under this interpretation, I can participate in the ushering in of the new earth.   I can be a part of that force that Rv. 21 refers to as the new Jerusalem descends like a bride on this earth.   

“And I John saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down from God out of heaven, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband.”  (Rv. 21.2)

What we do really matters.   This understanding makes the purpose of God’s creation, salvation, and reconciliation so much more relevant and immediate.  I can be a part of this “on earth as it is on heaven.”

***Disclaimer:  I am not saying the above is necessarily “correct” Biblical interpretation, but I am merely suggesting (per Mr. Ray) that this is perhaps a layer of how we can understand Heaven, earth, and our place there within.

Which is where I jump back to Miss Katie’s story.  She is doing it.  For her, it is happening.  She is ushering in the grace of God and the reconciliation intended for us all.  She is serving with the diligence, determination, and immediacy that the descent of the new Jerusalem and the establishment of the new earth will require of us. In going back to her blog to confirm a few details for this post, I noticed for the first time that the tab of her blogspot reads "on earth as it is in heaven."  My heart is pricked with the ironic confirmation of her work.  In her daily, constant, loving, tried, and true efforts, Katie is partnering in God's story to bring a piece/peace of heaven to this earth.  And even now, the truth is evident--in so many ways, her world already resembles what I envision to be the nature of heaven.  How cool is that. For Katie, perhaps it may be “in Heaven as it is on earth.”

And maybe, someday, for me as well.

Thanks for reading.  Stay Dusty.

*b.Nicole

**Disclaimer:  If I have misrepresented the views of either Katie Davis or Mr. Ray Vander Laan, please feel free to let me know (if you are either of these two--highly unlikely!!, if you were there, or if you can provide me with the correct details from a reliable source).  Gracias.

The Me Who I am, Was, and Will Be

The other day I was watching old home videos with my mom and sister.  If you have ever done this--be it after a holiday, for a momentous birthday, or even on any given Saturday afternoon--you may be able to relate to the strange nature of the paradoxical disconnect between who you once were and who you are as you watch the videos.  There is a bizarre intrigue as you see yourself played out, being supposedly you, yet there are parts of you that you never knew you had carried all of these years.  And then there are those moments that you can almost feel--where you and the younger you almost converge in the camaraderie of a singular shared experience.  I watched myself opening gifts Christmas morning--and I shared the excitement and endearment of certain long-awaited treasures.  I remember loving certain outfits, and playing my first CD on my new Sony Boom Box.  Yet as much as I could relate to these experiences, I still felt as though I watching a stranger, or perhaps a daughter or younger cousin.  

Except for those very revealing moments that disclosed my most innate nature, I knew the person before me must surely be me.  

Every birthday, I wanted to light the candles.  I loved fire.  I have always known that the beauty and mystery of a flame has long-intrigued me, but to see myself at six and seven staring at candles, helping start the fire, wanting to light the candles--I came to realize that this was really a part of me.  An affection towards fire was not something that randomly developed and grew to my present fetish, but the intrigue started much younger than I had imagined, and was probably fostered through the encouragement of such terms of endearment as "my little pyro," or "Little Miss Brittney and her fires."  This grew with me, matured, and remains today.

Or there is my avoidance of the camera.  I would strategically place myself behind a beam, wall, or the face of a friend to avoid the shutter.  But then there were other times, when in a "better mood," or when I had decided, that I would ham it up for the film crews.  I was willful and peculiarly shy.  Even today, I have been know to get a little more than perturbed if Mom starts snapping more than five shots.  I do better with photos and video now, but I do not by any stretch enjoy being on front of a lens.  Yet, in my own world, and when I choose, I can film videos of myself, take creative photos, speak publicly.  But just as when a little girl--right when my stubborn will decides.

And then I watched a gymnastics recital from when I was about six years old.  This was perhaps the most telling.  The first shot, I am sitting exactly as the teacher was--arms crossed over my knees, my dangling legs again crossed at the ankles, my back straight and off my chair, and my chin held high in anticipation of the activities that would display my hard work over the course of our classes.  I was first in line to perform every skill, and I had the face of a soldier headed in to battle.  My every move was calculated, precise and with eagerness and attention to "doing it right."  My mom, of course, thought this was absolutely adorable, but I saw what was really happening--I was a little girl so desperately eager to please my gymnastics coach, my parents, my peers, a little girl wound up so tight around being the "good little student" that everyone told me I was.  I was so determined to perform with excellence that I could hardly enjoy the experience.  There was very little of that glimpse into my recital where I allowed myself to just intrinsically enjoy being a six-year old in gymnastics--I was there for everyone else.  I am 27 today, and have dealt largely with this trait, but there are still hints of this inclination that I am forced to face on a regular basis.

But the videos are evidence.  I am me through and through.  

I also watched others on camera.  Seeing the slight indications or glaring tips of everyone's personality was thoroughly enjoyable.  Loved ones passed danced across the screen and their memories came alive in my heart as though we were together again.  Images of youth rang strong, as my much-younger-then grandparents bounced around at birthday parties, Christmases, and family gatherings.  

My sister was absolutely adorable.  I watched our dynamics unfold and develop over the years and saw the traces of the friendship we now share that were rooted in our interactions in the early days.  She was beautiful, precious, gentle, and endearingly bashful.  Today, she is still beautiful, precious, surprisingly gentle, and--although perhaps undetected by outsiders--still a bit endearingly bashful.  We were taught how to care for each other and I really do think we were something like best buddies.  She is now my closest confidant and one of my most cherished counselors.

As if for the first time and after years gone-by, I saw the way my mom's caring, gentle hand would brush our hair across our faces or gently stroke our backs as we obliviously carried on with our lives--in that moment so naively unaware of the abundant love she poured on us--and this refreshed point of view made the love I have for her swell in my heart.  She loved us so incredibly.  Her care was almost oozing out of her from the screen.  And I watched her watching herself, but her love was no surprise to her.  Yet for me--I was amazed.

And I watched my dad.  His steady hand, patient conduct, and soothing presence stood out so strong.  Something struck me about his manner behind the camera.  Perhaps my deduction came in observation of the contrast to my behavior, but he was so utterly humble on camera.  He never needed to steal the limelight, nor say too much.  But he also never seemed to particularly avoid the lens or be intimidated by the idea of himself being filmed.  He was just there--so easily, humbly and true.  There was no pretension to his demeanor, and no lofty air in his conduct.  He was so comfortable in his own skin, and it was so cool to observe.

Seeing all of this gave me an overwhelming sense of gratefulness for the life I have lived and love I have experienced.  I found pieces of me in the little girl I have always been, I saw aspects of the dynamics I missed being a child, and grew a stout appreciation for the role my family and friends have played in my life.  

I thought about these videos a lot over the following days--mostly remembering funny snippets, or reminiscing on some of the blessings brought on by the footage.  But I also began to steady on how much of me today was so much a part of me then.  From the smallest little intrigues, to my mannerisms, reactions, and appearance, to the even deeper core of my personality.  I began to wonder about change, and how far I have really come from that little girl.  Certainly, I have made many strides in various areas as a result of my experiences, education, and natural growth.  But those very deep layers of my personality that are so apparent to me in the video are even more complex facets of my being today.  I have now learned to cope with them, hide them, project them, protect them and even embrace them at times.  Yet I am still me, for better, for worse.  

I don't even begin to think that change for the better is beyond any of us at any point, and I certainly wouldn't put anything past the Love of God, so although I see tremendous hope for real change, I think the substance of change may be different than I once considered. 

I thought my pride, pretension and insecurity would be something that if I practiced hard enough and wanted to rid badly enough, would just vanish.  I thought it had maybe been a phase, or a coping mechanism, that would pass, or I would mature beyond.  But I see these presenting themselves at five and six years of age, and I am all of 27 years-old now (I know--not that old), and still have to deal with these issues.  I am getting better at recognizing the sneaky areas where these vices will rear their ugly heads and I am more aware of the patterns that have, in the past, lead to indulging or justifying the ramifications of these behaviors.  But I think these videos taught me something about the nature of change.  

For, iron cannot become copper, and copper cannot become gold (baring an alchemist).  

But an iron rod can become a useful hammer.  

A copper plate can become a penny.  

And a golden nugget can become a ring.  

I can really only be exactly who I am, but I can always work on how I am.

And in realizing this, I felt an incredible sense of freedom.  It was as if the burden from the guilt of not quite having rid myself of all my vices after such effort was lifted.  

And then I remembered my dad.  He didn't seem to feel the inclination to apologize for who he was.  He had accepted that.  I am sure if you were to ask him, he would recognize that he is no more perfect than anyone else that the videos may have caught.  But he need not make excuses for where he was.  I think he may realize that this life is a path and we are all working our way through it.  

I want to be careful not to waiver too far to the other extreme of absolute ambivalence towards our shortcomings, but there is a peaceful beauty to the hopeful acceptance of them.  

And I think of the way I imagine Jesus to have been with people.  There is a profound humility to his presence that runs consistent in all of the Gospels. Although he works with an incredibly assured inditement, his grace and humility level His purposed mission.  I think of the way people responded to Jesus--sure, He has His enemies, those opposed to His claims--but the people that He met, those that had been cast out from society, broken, ostracized from the very roots of the faith He proclaimed that encountered Him and were changed.  They felt the acceptance and freedom in His manner, which was the very mechanism of their revival. 

I think of myself, and the person I want to be in this world.  The person I want to be for me, for God, and for His ultimate purpose.  I want to be free like Jesus.  Purposeful.  Assured.  Yet human.  

I have so much yet to learn.  And so much more to grasp.  Yet in allowing myself the freedom offered in the person of Jesus, I come to understand how my own shortcomings, and my personal journey with them, will lead me to be not only an iron rod, but a hammer.  Not only a copper plate, but perhaps a penny.  And not only a golden nugget, but maybe one day a golden ring.  

Stay Dusty.

b.Nicole

Oh, Bonnie. Don't Hate Me.

Sometimes it is just fun, and you just want to.  SO not my style, but SO fun regardless.  Enjoy. Laugh. Sing Along.

Life in 3-D: The God Eye See

I don't own a TV.  I rarely take notice of  this missing household amenity, except when walking first-time visitors through my home.  On "The Tour," I offer such insightful commentary as, "This is the kitchen;"  "This is my living room;"  This is the study/play room;" and "Here is my bedroom," and we end up at the back of my house in my laundry room, at which point we wander back to the living room the over little compulsory reactions and observations.  

Normally, about the time we re-group on the sofas, a few moments will pass and inevitably, someone speaks up with courteous curiosity --"So... do you not have a TV...?"  I explain that I actually "do not" have a TV, but I love movies, and have become quite the collectionista of Blockbuster finds.  But my computer is quite a capable viewing source, so this negates all necessity of a TV for me.  

Yet, to be honest, my abeyant MovieWatcher card would not reflect my proclaimed admiration for the cinema. The movie experience has somewhat lost its luster for me amongst the rising prices, rambunctious company--and then I would have to resist the convenience of viewing a movie in my own home and on my own time-frame, as well.  Effectively, I don't see many TV ads or trailors, so the anticipation of a premier doesn't lure me in to the big screen, either.  But occasionally, I am willing to buck all pretension and inconvenience for a movie that just "should be" experienced with more punch than my computer monitor and speakers can provide.  

Just two nights ago, I went to the theater to see the new Harry Potter movie.  I have never read the books or seen a previous film, but this one would be in 3-D, and apparently would be worth the experience.  Without digressing into a review of the cinematic legitimacy of the film, I will say--I was impressed and entertained.  For an IMAX film, the movie theaters always provide those ridiculous plastic "3-D glasses--" which results in my immediate time-port to my elementary years and the days of field trips to NASA, with "futuristic" IMAX special-venues of Space Exploration Films.  I remember even, how throughout the duration of any-given IMAX picture, the glasses would inevitably agitate me to the point that I would have to take them off.  And the same remains true today.  Even today, within the hours of an IMAX picture, I will feel the nagging urge to remove my glasses, just to endure the blurred dual-image projected before me, until I can eventually don my glasses once more.  

Well, I reached this point in Harry Potter.  Typically, I am frustrated with myself at the point that I begrudgingly remove my glasses for a reprieve.  But this time (perhaps a slight gesture towards maturity), I actually tuned in to the multilayered images, even so much as to develop an endearing appreciation and intrigue for their intentional distortion.  

During my momentary retreat, I somewhat lost touch with the plot and began experimenting with the passing images in an attempt to create the desired image, sans glasses.  I went through a serious of very scientific variable tests in my research--I tried crossing my eyes, squinting, closing one eye.  I even called upon my previous experience with the Illusion picture books that contained hidden 3-D images in the page designs.  The "squinting technique" would sometimes work then on difficult images, but I found my transferred skill to be far less successful at the cinema.  I have since realized the folly in my methods, but at the time, I considered my means to be plausible.  

Yet in my own silly science lab at a Harry Potter picture show, I began to formulate an idea that would take shape over the following days, and profoundly resonate with me in my understanding of this world.  With visions of grandeur, I even took the glasses home (with permission) to continue my exploration post-cinema through assessing the glasses visual impact upon the actual 3-D world.  

In the aftermath of this experience, I stumbled across some down-time and did a bit of research on the construction of a 3-D clip, specifically as compared a standard film.  Today, a 3-D image is often created by polarizating the light of dual images, tripling the frames per second as compared to a standard film, and projecting these images simultaneously on the same screen.  The immediate affect produces the blurred multiplicity I described earlier, but with a pair of eyes and a set of LCD shutter glasses, the images converge to add the illusion of depth, the lost dimension in standard 35mm films.   


The film is shot with two different lenses--one angled to record the images as viewed by the left eye, and the other to singularly capture the vision of the right eye.  The two sequences are layered during production and then projected at variant linear polarizations at the time of viewing.  


Those "ridiculous 3-D glasses" are actually specifically designed with left and right polarized lenses that project only the image intended for that eye, while concurrently block the other eye's image. 


Essentially, 3-D filmation reverses the cooperative efforts of our visual and central nervous system by separating the images in 2-D.  

Think of your 5th-grade lesson on sight.  Your teacher more-than-likely asked you to create a triangle with your two hands outstretched before you, and then instructed you to pick an object within the scope of the triangle.  You were then advised to close one eye.  All of a sudden the image would pop to a position outside of your triangle.  When tested with the other eye, the image would be somewhere in the vicinity oppositely congruent to its previous location.  


In case you got distracted making your best friend hop around your peripheral and missed the application that day, this exercise displays the functioning of our nervous system as it process the two images created on the retinae of our two eyes.  Vision is a pretty incredible sense.  Our eyes actually just record the data sequencing of the light reflected by all the objects in our scope of sight.  The data is burned on to our retinae at the back of our eyes, and the brain works to process this information by conceptualizing mere representations of the scene.  


Thus, when the object of our vision is a projection of light on a flat-screen, the convergence of empirical perceptions has already taken place, and the third-dimension is lost.  


In order to achieve depth perception (the third dimension) within a 2-D projection, the eyes must receive both simultaneous and singular input on each retinae, creating the illusion of an authentic perception.  Then, the physiological manifestation of sight may processes the images as if these "3-D" objects and images were actually before them.  

I have learned about the functioning of the visual system before, but I outlook was refreshed by my new understanding in light of a 3-D film experiene.  And with this idea of sight, light, and dimension, my mind began its churning.  


Our eyes perceive the light reflected by objects.  Our eyes collect the data from this input and create two variant representations on our retinae.  Our brain receives the two separate images from our visual system and processes the details in the form of a streaming image.  


A singular image from just one eye would capture only two-diminsions, but our visual system maintains the reality of the 3rd dimension with the help of the central nervous system and the addition of a supplementary sequence of a simultaneous event.  


Our world contains three perceivable dimensions, yet receptive optical systems are only able to capture two of these dimensions on their own.  Consider a camera as an optical system similar to our own.  The input data is in three dimensions, but the capturing space can only contain two of them.  The brain detects depth perception in a picture by drawing on our visual experience with depth and proportion, but the film space itself only provides for two dimensions--length and width.  

Theorists are eternally claiming that time is the fourth dimension--and I tend to subscribe to this hypothesis, with the understanding that our linear position within time is probably more of an illusions than a reality.  So if time functions anything like light, our perception can only be achieved by assuming a duality in perception, as displayed by the visual system.  Have you ever noticed how a minute can seem like a lifetime, but a year can seem like the passing of a second?  Perhaps our placement and perception of time allows for this discrepant evaluation.  And although the relationship between time, dimension and perception intrigue me, there remain uncharted issues that, for me, are more provocative when I consider sight.  

The Text tells me that God created Light in this world before anything else.  And Jesus calls himself the light of the world.  Our eyes, the primary contributor to processing our perceived world, depend on light to "accurately" perceive the physical world.  The individual eye can only detect the images captured as a 2-D movie screen captures the light projection of a film. Our visual system, however, compensates for our own limitations in capturing images and the two recordings of our 2 receivers by allowing one image to enhance the other.  Interestingly, a 3-D movie actually disables the work of the visual system by merging the right and left-eye images before the data is collected.  However, in sight, each eye is only recording the images from its perspective.  In an IMAX film, both eyes are processing both angles.  Thus, to the naked eye the picture looks disjointed and distorted, and the eyes have no means of recognizing their individual projection.

There is so much in this world that I don't understand.  There are so many truths that seems to disagree much like a 3-D IMAX Film.  The inconsistencies in my understanding of my spiritual sight can sometimes leave my vision hazy.  

But then I consider God's truth--Truth refers to the ultimate reality.   We have been given the tools to perceive and process His reality--He has promised this.  We depend on the light of the first day to distinguish the physical reality,  so there must be a spiritual source which allows us to comprehend Truth.    

And yet, Jesus is the Light.  In our reality, the sun is our greatest source of light.  Jesus is the Son.  Light in this world allows us sight; perhaps the light of Jesus is the source of sight in the spiritual world.  If Jesus, the light, is our salvation, perhaps salvation is in being able to perceive and project the Truth of God's nature.  What if the redemptive nature of Jesus' ministry was to illuminate the nature of God.  As our eyes process the physical world, our hearts may be the eyes of our souls, perceiving the Truth of God. 

But even with the gift of this salvation, my spiritual vision sometimes feels a bit more like watching a movie than experiencing His nature first-hand.  I often have the spiritual sense that what I am involved in is something more than the "two dimensions" I am perceiving on the movie screen.  Just as our vision carries limitations--we can only capture and project a restricted reality of the images within the physical world--my hypothesis would be that these same barriers cripple our spiritual capacity to capture and project the reality of the ultimate world.  

I must wonder if there was ever a time when His truth was accurately and fully perceivable.  

Perhaps, at the creation of the world, at the birth of light. And if at the foundation of the Earth, all truth and fullness of God was both perceivable and projectable, when did our spiritual eyes adopt their limitations?  

There is a certain story of a certain man and woman in a certain garden, eating from a certain tree.  I cannot resist the situational irony presented by the description immediately following the couples' dinner menu choice--"and their eyes were opened."  I am struck that their eyes were not glued shut through their sin.

But then I remember what happened when I removed my special glasses at the theater.  Maybe the screen of God's Glory was already being projected into this world--not as a standard film--but as an IMAX film, intended to reflect the height, breadth, and depth of His Truth.   Maybe God has always chosen to reveal himself in "3-D."  But in our sin, we lost the special glasses when our eyes "were opened." 

But then I remember the Messiah.  Healer of the blind.  Light of the world.  The Way to the Father.

Maybe we do have the keys to the kingdom.  

Perhaps Jesus is the light in the sense that the light of the burning sun causes need for sunglasses.   Could His ministry have been to exude such blinding light as to give rise to adorning spiritual glasses, and ultimately offering us sight.  After all, caking mud on a blind man's eye seems a curious method for offering sight.  But after the man's commitment to Jesus' instruction to wash in the Pool of Salome, the man could see.  Maybe our faith commitment is in the choice to wear our glasses.  God's picture may have never changed.  We just may need the right set of eyes to see the Light of the Truth.  

jar of hearts

Has anyone ever stopped to ask, "Did it really have to be like that?" Jesus and the Cross

We are thankful. We all rejoice. 

But has anyone ever stopped to ask, "Did it really have to be like that?"

Religious holidays are always a time of growth for me.  And not so much in the typical "spiritual high" sense.  They are a struggle.  I am always in a tug-of-war between remorse, rejoicing, and my own pride.  In light of Easter/Resurrection Day,  i find myself working through this conflict.  Part of me wants to fall in to humility and embrace the day with simplicity and gratitude.  People love to celebrate the death and resurrection of Jesus.  It is incredible.  But another part of me knows that this emotional, and very real reaction is just not possible for me.  Probably a portion is my pride, but certainly a greater part is the loss I know I would experience in the raw, majesty of the whole story.  But I can't just talk about Jesus' blameless life, brutal death and miraculous resurrection without honestly addressing this one questions.

Really?  I mean--I am grateful.  If this is what needed to be done, I owe every breath and more to show my gratitude to Him.  But I must ask--Did he have to be perfect?  Did He have to die?  Did He have to die like that?  And what significance does the ascension really have?  

Basically,  God--Your story is  brutal.  When I look to the cross, I remember a blameless, righteous man hang there.  His life was so full of love and conviction, and You say love wins.  But why didn't Your perfect Love win then?  Couldn't He just have been perfect, and died loved by all?  How is this Your plan?

And this is where Easter brings me.  My soul mourns.  My thoughts break.  And my heart bleeds.  And I remain incredibly grateful--and grateful in a greater way than I could access when I thought I understood.   

But here is my point--do other people ask these questions?  Or is what I ask heresy?  (Although, David and Abram--and even Jesus--all asked God tough questions.)  But my greatest regret is, "How could we not ask this?"

Jesus hung on a cross--one of the most excrutiating and humiliating deaths--for us.  


His dying hours were horrific.  If he was at-all/any-ration human, his last breaths must have been miserable.


His death began early, as the soldiers mocked and whipped him the night before.  Then, he was made to carry the heavy timber that would serve as his tool of death through the winding streets, as he shamefully struggled under its weight.  When they were crucifying him, they did not break his bones, as they often would to accelerate death.  Jesus did not take wine to numb the pings that must have shot through His body as the nails were driven through his wrists.  


Was he even aware of what was happening, or did it all become a blur?  I don't honestly know if the body can really comprehend this level of pain.

And if he ever was aware, did he ever feel foolish as he hang on the cross--naked and bleeding.  Helpless.  And all who pledged their undying love, denied Him in the most profound sense.  Even His father turned his back on Jesus in His darkest hour.  Jesus dies with Psalm 22, the death Psalm, on His lips.  He was faithful.  But did He ever question why this was His plight, or even--if He had been mislead? 

I do not paint this dramatic picture to draw salty tears from heavy hearts, but almost the contrary.  Isn't this absurd!  Jesus did not deserve this.  Yet supposedly our sin convicted him.  But if God made the rules, couldn't he have slanted the game a little in His favor here?  

If love wins, why didn't it?

So there must be more.  And I believe there is.  Firstly--although we tend to believe that everything Jesus did was completely miraculous and unique, there had been a pattern in Judaism around the time of Jesus where a wise rabbi who led a Godly and righteous life would develop a following, heal the sick, spend time with the poor, and die a martyr to be raised after three days, then ascending to heaven promising to send another helper.  I don't say this to diminish anything that Jesus did.  He is the one True Messiah, but at least in the culture of Jesus' day. this pattern already existed--whether in truth or apparition.  I think we put so much emphasis on a few qualities of the Jesus story, focusing on how unique his healings and ascension were, but it seems that the gospels and following books highlight other aspects of the story.  

I know most of us probably stay in the gospels today, but perhaps taking a look at Genesis 15 could help us connect the stories.  In a rather obscure moment between God and Abram, I find the entire purpose for Jesus' death, and I get a sense of God's incredible love for his people.

God has just promised Abram offspring numbering the stars, and a land which he can live his life under God's authority and a seed which would bless the nations.  All if Abram could continue leading a life of righteousness.   Abram, displaying quite the dosage of Hebraic hutspuh, asks God how he will know that these things will be.  And then, God sends him to gather a heifer, a goat, a ram, a dove, and a young pigeon.  


And we miss this.  


Abram must have been shaking in his boots.  He asked God, more or less, to prove or promise that God would honor his word.  And God basically says, with words not recorded, "Okay, Abram. Then, let's make a covenant.  Go get the animals, and you will know that I am serious."  


But we do not understand the ancient tradition of covenant, so we read right past this is and miss the story that connects the entire Bible.  

In some parts of the near east Bedouin world, this form of covenant is still practiced.  It is called a blood covenant--between two parties, always a lesser and a greater.  The greater establishes the term, and the lesser can either agree, or pass on the covenant.  Then, the animals are gathered, cut i half, and placed across from each other creating a literal blood path where that blood runs in the middle.  The greater party walks first.  Barefoot though the blood, and without a word, he confirms that if he does not meet his end of the covenant, the other party may stomp through his blood like he walks through blood now.  Then it is the turn of the lesser party.  He does the same, without a word, committing the covenant and understanding that if he does not live up to his word, this will be his plight.  

Now we return to the Genesis story.  


This is the context of where Abram and God stand.  God says--being the greater party he gives the terms (not in Gen. 15, but from other contextual references), "I will give you, Abram, my righteouss servant, offspring numbering the stars, a land which to can live your life under my authority, and a seed which will bless the nations.  All you have to do is be perfect."   And this is the deal.  Perfect.  Abram must be perfect.


And as night falls, Abram falls into a deep slumber (thanks, Mom) and a smoking firepot passes through the blood path.  The Genesis account tells us of two images that travel the path.  Assumedly, God and Abram.  The first image--the smoke--is obviously God.  Many times before and after this story, God is symbolized as smoke (burning bush with Moses, coals in Galilee, etc.).  Plus, He is the greater party, so this correlation is largely undisputed.  


And in covenant tradition, next up is Abram.  


But curiously, the image that passes second is a torch.  There is no textual reference of a human ever being portrayed as a torch.  


Only God is ever fire or a flame.  


And I have to think--in this moment, as Abram--in his altered state of consciousness--is preparing to assume his role as the lesser party and step in the warm blood.  He considers the weight of his covenant with God--to be blameless so that he may receive receive God's promises.  Abram must have realized that he would fail.  And failure within this covenant is basically writing away any promise of offspring, and land to call his own, and most devastatingly,  the messiah.  


And in Abram's sure distress, God appears.  


With the symbolism of a torch, God walks the path for Abram as to say, "Abram, if you and your people are not blameless, you may do this to Me."  

And in this moment, God convicts Jesus to die on the cross.  


God even foreshadows His own sacrifice when he commands Abraham to offer up Isaac.  But God provides, just as he promised in His covenant.

In the later aftermath of this covenant, at Mount Sinai, as God gives an identity to the sons of Abraham, he calls them a royal priesthood and a holy nation.  God commands His people to confirm this covenant with Him that they will again live under the authority of the Lord, as he has brought them out from Egypt.  The children of Israel, are to make a sacrifice two times, every single day--once in the morning, and again at 3:00 pm before twilight "at the place where [His] name is" (the Tabernacle, then the Temple) to remind the people of this promise.  (Exodus 24-27)


Although the daily sacrifices had become quite elaborate by Jesus' day, the people understood the sacrifice to be an offering, begging God to keep his promise--to bring the messiah who would atone for their unrighteousness.  This is slightly different than our understanding of the ritual sacrifices.  We would tend to focus on sacrifice being atonement for our transgressions, which is certainly part of it.  But to miss the desperation in these sacrifices--the cry of the children of Israel to their God--to please bring about the blessing to the Nations.  


And for a thousand years, this practice was done twice a day, and the entire Jewish world would pause at 9:00 am and 3:00 pm, awaiting the sounding of the shofar which would signify the blood sacrifice.  And in the hour of their remembrance, they could take comfort in the covenant between their forefather and their God. 

Almost 2,000 years after the covenant between Abram and God.  It is Passover, and the Judaic world crowds in to Jerusalem to be a part of the feasts.  


On a Friday at 3:00 in the afternoon, just like thousands of Fridays before, the shofar resounds from within the city walls.  


But something is different.  Just outside the city gates, at the Place of the Skulls, a man hangs on a cross, and perhaps cries out his last words from Psalm 22 ("He has performed it," in our English translation.) 

"IT IS FINISHED!"

And it is.  God did it.  


God became the blameless sacrifice.  God offered salvation to the world through the life of Jesus and the death he had promised.   


Jesus' death was absolutely necessary.  Abram failed.  We failed.  This is our consequence.  


The most loving, incredible, wise, Good man in the history of the world had to die at our hands.  And his salvation is, in a sense rooted in his death, but the way to eternal, or everlasting life, if found also in His life.  His life of love.  

So let us be somberly, gravely thankful for the death atonement, but let us celebrate the story.  Let us celebrate the breath of life within the narrative.  Let us praise a God so huge, and so loving, as to not only give us a way of salvation, but to actually become it.  

So, today, I celebrate God.  I love Jesus.  I look to His life, and I rejoice in the one and only Messiah Christ.  

Blessings, friends.  Stay dusty.


And if you are in a scandalous mood, another perspective on the Blood Sacrifice of Jesus.

b.Nicole

***much adapted from the teachings of Ray Vanderlaan.  

      www.ttwmk.org

Faith Lessons on the Life and Ministry of the Messiah (Home VHS Vol. 3) Home Pack/Bible Study Guides

    

Questions from Humans: the Rob Bell/Heaven+Hell Controversy

We are the body. And we are imperfect. But we must never abandon Love. We must never forsake correctness for Unity. Unity can embody differences. The church can encourage disagreements. We can believe with a Holy passion in the truths which God has revealed to us, yet to divide the church, or summon condemnation seems a hateful perversion of our commission as followers of Christ. First and foremost we are children of God. Always, we are his and dearly loved. As His children, gripped by the evil in this world, we are offered salvation on Christ. We follow His son, and build His church. His banner over us is love.

There have been several high profile discussions over Rob Bell's recent book: Love Wins: A Book About Heaven, Hell, and the Fate of Every Person Who Ever Lived. I would never want to stifle the discussion of such eternal principals; however the trajectory of these blog commentaries seems minimally hateful and malicious. My heart is heavy and my spirit is saddened. Satan will use ANYTHING. He is quite resourceful.

I have not yet read the book, so I hold no position to comment on the content. However, my current understanding is that there are far more questions posed than answers offered. If this is the case, what are we all so afraid of? If we seek the Truth, does not God tell us thT He will reveal Himself. For even the mountains and rocks cry out the name of the Lord! Anyhow, as stated, I have not read it, so I have nothing further to say regarding Bell's book.

What I can observe, however; is the response of the Christian community. We are breaking apart. This is a tragedy that burns me to my core, in far proportion to incorrect doctrine. Although, if I were in tue opposition, this travesty would pain me greatly, as well.

There are many blogs. But this particular blog is the one I have gotten involved in, for whatever reason. I have posted the link, not to point fingers, but because I do feel there is a lot of very valid content from both sides. I mourn the egos that emerge, but if you are seeking textual support and opposition for Bell's claims, there are some very knowledgeable sources from both sides.

http://www.dennyburk.com/rob-bell-outs-himself/

Please aim not to just adapt anyone elses view, but understand that we have been given (each of us) the mind of Christ to discern truth. Let us listen to our teachers and consider what God has placed in our heart and be willing to engage on an exploration of the truth that only God can reveal to us.

As always, thanks for stopping by. And please, friends... Stay Dusty.

*b.Nicole



Love


Please pray that the power of love does win, as promised.

A prism, A God, and this world.

I used to serve a god.  Now I think I serve God.  

Bold statement for both my past and present associations, I know.  But in a whirlwind of hurt, chaos, selfishness and pride, I somehow found vulnerability, peace, love, and humility.  Needless to say, through this kenosis my perception of God has been completely transformed.  

I grew up in the church, and I am eternally blessed for the heritage of faith that I formulated within that community.  Yet, as most of us do in almost aspect of life, I took for granted the traditions and ideas that I received.  I do not mean to insinuate that there is any innate fallacy in my inherited faith, but I adopted the doctrine and interpretations of pastors, teachers, and professors without investing the necessary effort to evaluate for myself what God would have me hear in His Word.  I felt a strong connection to God, and I developed strong ideas within my faith about who God was, and who I am in Him.  I held to these ideas with a bona fide conviction that informed what I saw in the Text and how I interpreted my purpose in this world.  I sought Truth and I wanted righteoussness.  But--and, I would guess we have all felt this--there was some indiscriminate or inexctable fiber within the makeup of my beliefs that was just unresolved.  Not that there was doubt.  Not that there was blatant disregard, or even discontentment, but if we are talking about the God of the Universe and the Creator who reigns eternally, is there any validation for having any fiber, and moment, any formulation of thought that is not completely sold to this Being?   But all I knew was what I had been taught.  

And although I had questions, and sought answers whole-heartedly, my ideas guided my discoveries instead of the truth.  A scientist would even say that removing biases from an experiment is nearly impossible.  It is the ultimate goal of the Scientific Method to use empirical methods of observation, but we all know the results we are seeking when we care enough to structure an experiment, so creating an open environment where Truth emerges from the variables, is both necessary and arduous.  So, I would not completely condemn my previous understandings because I am aware that they have brought me to the point at which I presently stand.  Also, they were formulated from a genuine desire to know and understand God, which I thought was something I could achieve.  I think this whole journey (a.k.a: Life) is about pushing forward towards new ideas and better "us"es, so I allow for this shift in thought and regard, rather than regret, the tread stones that led me to today.  

Yet at a certain stone in my not-so-distant past, I experienced a world that had been somewhat hidden from my formative years.  As I looked to the world around me, I saw hate and evil to the same proportion I witnessed good.  I saw violence and favoritism from a god that claimed benevolence and a love for the whole world.  He says he is the Alpha and Omega, as the Beginning and End, but I began to doubt that he cared much for the other 20 Greek letters, or the entire middle section, for that matter.   And as the friction between my beliefs and my experience grew stronger, the discomfort in my spirit brought me to a moment of absolute humility.  

If God is the eternal Truth, and His Word is the primary source by which He reveals Himself to me, I should not be afraid to earnestly seek the Goodness within His Text.  If I opened myself to Truth, I trusted that truth would be revealed.  And So I decided to shed everything I ever thought I knew about God.  Not reject, but shed.  And I would allow Him, for the first time in my life, to tell me who He was, and to share with me the secrets in His Word.  This was scary because I was not sure whom I would discover, and what that would mean.  If God could harden Pharo's heart and drown Egyptian soldiers, and send His own creation into a burning furnace away from Him for eternity, I couldn't be certain I would want to server Him for the rest of my life.  And as if this apprehension were not sufficient means to abort, I was incredibly aware of my daunting role in receiving His revelation.  I was going to have to dedicate myself fully and thoroughly to this task.  I had no clue what I would find, or where to begin.

So I started with Genesis.  Seemed logical enough.  And when I began to read the opening scenes of creation, for what I would consider "the first time," I found myself so engrossed and in awe that I read the first four chapters no less than twenty times before I even wanted to move on.  Each time I reread our story, I found something so precious and new, that I wanted to read it again, in case I had missed something else.  This Supreme Being within the narrative of the created world was so much more than I had ever dared to dream.  The surreal realization of His greatness and majesty and mystery left me inspired by His awesomeness.  And then I saw my downfall.  I wanted to know God.  To understand Him and confine him within the limitations of my mind.  But I could never know or understand God.  Who did I think I was? Not even Jesus knows the mind of God.  So if I could not know, I had a decision to make.  Would I reject the ideas of Goodness, Perfection, and Immutability that I had grown up with?  Or was there another option?  Because this God of Genesis is incredible. If God is all He says He is, then He is everything.  Everything.  The good.  The Bad.  The beautiful.  The whole world--in both concept and matter.  For, in the beginning there was God (only God).  Therefore, He is the only substance of creation.  Every single aspect of this world we experience must be a realization of Him.  This may seem like blasphemy, but if His Word is True, and He is God, this is Him. So, how am I to reconcile that what I see in God and His creation does not appear to always be Good?  Well, who are we to question the Potter and how He molds the clay?  And who am I to assume I could ever exact any complete conception of Goodness.  If I cannot know God, and God is Good, how then could I even know the nature of Eternal Goodness?  Perhaps I cannot.  And when I accepted this God, I saw the world in a completely new light.  So I read one more time, our story of our God.  And this is what I see.  

In the Garden of Eden, God's creation ate from a tree that granted them the "knowledge of Good and Evil,"  making them "like gods."  

Point No.1: The "knowledge" of Good and Evil.  Adam and Eve did not create evil, or introduce evil into this world.  They received a perception that allowed for the distinction between Good and Evil.  Evil had always been there--creation simply could not separate it from the Good.  To Adam and Ever, there was no Good or Evil.  Only God.

Point No.2:  The tree was within God's garden.  God had planted it there, and even given instructions as to not eat the fruit.  Adam and Eve discovered a part of God that He had contained in the fruit.  This knowledge was not outside of Him.  

Point No.3:  God had wanted to intentionally disclose this knowledge from His creation.  God knew the effects of this knowledge.  He had a plan for His creation--that it be a perfect extension of Him.   He offered salvation in obedience, by not eating the fruit of the tree.

Point No.4:  God wanted His creation to choose.  Just as God is dynamic and changing, He wanted us to evolve and make choices with the same freedom that He himself has as Creator.  We are, after all, created "in His image." Therefore, He planted a tree that contained the wisdom of gods.  Yet knowing the burden of such understanding, God instructed His creation not to eat of its fruit, as to protect them from this knowledge, while still offering them the dominion to choose either obedience and Shalom, or disobedience and Chaos.  

I think we all know the rest.  

God must have realized that His light could always reign on this earth, if He preserved the recognition of the darkness.  But He could not just eliminate this aspect of Himself, and still achieve a full expression of His image within His creation. He had to offer the sovereignty to toy with the proportions and hues of God's character.  And did we ever.  Let me explain. If we consider white light, and its passage through a prism, we can access a metaphor for this transition.  White light could be compared (as it is in His Word) to the Love and Goodness of God.  God dwelt among His creation, and had complete dominion, so long as His people followed His commands.  Yet, when Adam and Eve ate of the fruit and the veil was removed, their eyes were opened and they saw the variations within the colors of God's light.  It is as if in that moment, God saw that they no longer chose Him, and He coated this world with an atmosphere of separation, dividing the physical from the spiritual realm.  God was no longer the ruler; therefore, He handed over the goodness of His creation to its own devices until a time when He could redeem it.  Redemption is the Reconciliation of God's creation--an hour when Shalom rules and God can reclaim His creation.  But until then, He allows His creation time to again chose Him, but must hide His fullness from the imperfections of our own misconceptions.  And our misunderstandings are the results of the atmosphere. Remember the prism?  If God's love is Light, and our disobedience required the installment of this atmospheric prim, the there is a change as His light enters our world.  When God's eternal Purity and Goodness pass through the earth's prism and fall to the world below, the light separates, and we see the many colors within the spectrum of His Providence.  Blue and Purple, Orange, Vermillion.  Each color could be seen as a point on the spectrum of Good and Evil.  We have gained perception of such a distinction through our disobedience, and now the character of God is difficult to conceive, as we would have to create a vortex that would combine every color in perfect proportion to again perceive the white light.  Through obedience, God could again lift the prism from our atmosphere. Yet we failed.  Time and time again, we failed.  God is so patient.  But He must have recognized our tendency towards evil, as we act foolishly in the knowledge that was never intended for us.  So He decided that He would enter our world and be the instrument of convergence.  He would lead a blameless life, and we could see the true form of God.  Sound familiar?  Well... we have established the effects of passing light through a prism.  The light is refracted, and separates into different colors.  But what could recombine these colors?  Incredibly, if we pursue this analogy a step father, it turns out that God uses the very same material to display his white light that was used to disperse it.  When light passes through one prism, it is separated.  When light passes through a second prism, it is recomposed.  Thus, if we are to at all access an understanding of God, we must first recognize His presence in every color.  And secondly, look to Jesus for any image of His Goodness.  And when I assumed this perception of the function of God's Goodness in our world, I grew hungry to imitate the life of Christ, as I fell in awe of the incredible mystery of God.

And in this new discovery, I encountered a God much greater and hardly recognizable to the god I knew before.  When I looked to the god I had accepted, I understood why my heart did not burn for His Word and His will.  I had created an idol, a counterfeit--he may as well have been Ashura or Baal.  My own little god was who I needed, and wanted to follow.  He loved me, and protected me, and justified many of decisions that were rooted in a heart of pride, conceit, and resentment.  But when I honestly assessed the cubicle I built for my god to live in, he did not seem to be any kind of a Creator of the Universe.  I had him figured out--more like an imaginary friend that fit in to my agenda.  But this God.  This God, I am incredibly aware that I can never fully know.  Not until he lifts the prism and His Goodness descends on this earth, at least.  And God wants to reign again.  So desperately.  Our only salvation is in the atonement of Jesus, who lived to be the example for a live of Shalom--everything exactly as God has willed it.  Then the world will again belong to Him. Every color will be reconciled unto him as the most glorious light--with vivid hues that we know exist, but can only experience and not perceive.  This is the day I live for.  When all the colors combine.  But for now, I live everyday in the light of the second prism.  Seeking the Goodness, Humility, Sacrifice, Vulnerability, and Authenticity that is undeniable in the Christ.  

Thanks for stopping by.

Be encouraged.  Seek the Light.  Walk in the dust.

Stay dusty.

b.Nicole