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.

Freedom is as Freedom does.

What is Freedom?

It was my third hour in the less-than glamorous La Guardia Airport just outside New York City. After exhausting all installed distractions and attractions in the single corridor of the LGA terminal, I found my departure gate and dipped in to my “Mary Poppins Bag” to find some distractions of my own. After MadLibs got old by my lonesome, I had wasted enough doodles on my 3-D notepad, and the malfunctioning fire alarm system siren had kept me from reading, I gave up my activity-driven occupiers, and settled in with some thumb-twiddling and people-watching. But with over an hour left before Elite and Assisted boarding began—which I was not--I used a lifeline and “phoned a friend.”

The conversation turned rapidly from a brief recap of my trip to a consideration and appreciation for my ability to travel with such freedom. And there it was. The word. Freedom.

I should be grateful for the freedom to travel?

For some reason, the verbiage struck me as odd.

Of course, by law I am granted liberty to travel—but pending my adherence to certain documents, fees and rules. There is an awful lot I have to comply with if I am going to have the "freedom" to take a trip to New York that I am not quite sure I feel comfotable toggling to my association of freedom. For example, I need a government ID to board a plane; I need a way to make money to pay for my airfare; I need to understand the rules of aviation travel and go through certain security measures in order to be allowed access through the airport. I also must hope that the pilot shows up, that the flight isn’t overbooked, and that there isn’t too much traffic on my way to the airport. So there are quite a few contingencies to this “freedom” that I arguably possess in order to travel--and some of them are completely beyond my control.

And then I begin to wonder—is this really freedom at all?

Sure—my questions may set us on a bit of a rabbit-hole race through Semantics Grove. And perhaps a pointless pursuit, but I do believe there is something profound beneath the conventions of our cultural freedoms which allude to our assumptions of the idea. And even more so, such usage and associations shed light on our conceptions of Freedom (capital “F” on this one, for those less-than-OCD readers--ME!).

Words such as these: Love, Goodness, Truth—the words that are really ideas—are quite precarious in our modern culture. The versatility in the application of even the word "Love" ranges from the candied lips of a pre-adolescent mall rat expressing her enthusiasm for the Hello Kitty bracelet at Claire’s, to the tender, profound look between the seasoned wrinkled eyes of the golden-anniversary lovers.

And me?  Well--I love my phone. I love your shirt. I love that song. I love my friends. I love my mom. I love the Lord.

Notice a problem?

We do not have a linguistic distinction between how we feel about our cell phone and how we care for our parents. Admittedly, I think we all recognize the variant nature of the word love, and no one really asserts that one’s love for a technological device and the love for a mother are really even that similar. We are cognitively aware of the difference, but my question of distinction would point more to the reciprocal relationship—do we ever “love” our mothers like we “love” our cell phones? When our cell phone saves us, we love it! When our cell phone works normally, we often forget about it. And when our cell phone breaks, or isn’t working properly, or is the vessel of an unappreciated conversation or interaction, we despise it and sometimes mistreat it.

So is this really “love”? And I do not intend to infer that if we had a different word for cell phone and mother-love that we would always treat our mothers with the Love that we should bestow upon them, but perhaps our idea of love would be a little less murky and a lot more meaningful.

And I regress to the idea of freedom. Perhaps we have done similar damage in our cultural exploitation of the idea. Our country was established on the premise and promise of freedom. But is freedom really freedom if there are things we have to do—or even more devastatingly, things that must be done—in order to remain a beneficiary?

I would venture to say that freedom and compliance are mutually exclusive. I could get myself in to some trouble here, so allow me to preface my thoughts—I believe with all of my heart that Freedom is absolute dominion, but within our will, we can choose freely to comply. Thus, freedom can often turn to bondage, masquerading as religion or righteousness, if we do not first understand the nature of freedom. And I may not at all understand Freedom today as it will one-day be revealed to me, but I see no circumstance that could entail any form of requirement. Otherwise, such prerequisites would contradict the very essence of Freedom—complete dominion. But I will explicate this idea at a later point.

My primary concern is that the colloquial usage of the word freedom carries certain requisites or contingencies that should not be attached to the true idea of Freedom. Notably, the conceptual application of Freedom to freedom does not construct such compromise as the unintended consequences incurred by the application of freedom to Freedom.

True Freedom does not have strings.

And God repeatedly emphasizes this in His Word. But we still somehow miss it. And I think part of this is because there is nothing, apart from Freedom in Christ, that is really Freedom at all. Our ideas of freedom are limited and distorted by the experiences we associate with the idea of Freedom. Our perception is instructed by how we classify our experience. We have municipal freedoms, social freedoms, financial freedoms (which many of us understand more in relationship to its opposite) and religious freedoms. We even hold strong mental images of freedom with white doves, broken shackles, unbolted cages, and whimsical winds.

But none of these are the Freedom God offers.

There is nothing we could ever do, nothing we could ever find, and nothing that we could ever truly compare to what Absolute Freedom must look like.

So how can we begin to understand freedom?

Well, I read a book once about a woman’s experience in Rwanda, Africa during the civil war between two tribes—the Hutu and Tutsis. The woman was a Tutsi, and was hiding in a bathroom with seven other women for 91 days. The women—over the three-month period—had to sit on top of each other just to fit in the tiny space, rotating positions throughout the day and experiencing all of the issues of normal women throughout the months. Her situation seems to me, something like Hell. But in her book, Immaculee tells one story that floored me. After she was freed from hiding, she came in to contact with the person that killed her family and then left her to hide in a bathroom for three months—she looked him in the eyes and said, “I forgive you.” And I believe her. But more than my vote of confidence towards the woman’s display of grace, and incredible sense of lightness overcame me when I considered the beauty in her words and her heart.

I remember thinking to myself—“This is Freedom.”
Yet such a picture of freedom would seem so contradictory to traditional interpretations. The woman was locked in a bathroom. She was being persecuted. She barely had room to sneeze, much less the ability to take a trip to visit her sister or buy a car. Even her sister had been taken from her. Nothing really was within her control. Not even her own life. She would either die in that bathroom, or be there until she was set free. And there is it—the word free again. Something she seemingly did not have. But when I reflect on this story, my heart fixates on her Freedom, and I would imagine her heart would sing a profound sense of Freedom, as well.

Therefore, Freedom cannot be contingent upon anything. Our Freedom is a gift, to elect or reject.

When we understand Freedom in this context, the implications can be profound.

To begin at the beginning, God’s story records, “So God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him; male and female he created them.” And then, he assigns His Good Creation to rule “everything that has the breath of life in it” (Gen 1). If we have been given dominion over all that breathes, we are also given dominion over ourselves. We are, in a sense, our own principalities. So this should be enough for freedom, right?

But then we somehow compromise our freedom when we take advantage of freedom in a way that God did not intend for His Creation. We again found ourselves in bondage. In order to re-discover Freedom, we needed salvation.

And this is where the story of the Cross becomes incredible.

People always question the difference between the story of God and our Messiah Christ and all of the other religions. I can be the first to admit that there are a lot (a LOT) of similarities. This prospect used to threaten me, but I know say, “Of course.” My heart finds such consolation when I recognize that we are all searching for the same thing. God even promises us that there is enough of Him in everything for every man to witness to the Creator. In our attempts to satisfy our insatiable inner magnetism towards God, we find ourselves at variant points along the continuum of understanding. I do not think any one of us have “arrived,” so I rest with the peace that God is moving each of us along within the unique circumstances of his evolutionary Creation. But I digress. The difference in our story is that our Freedom, our Salvation, is contingent upon nothing other than the sacrifice of Christ that has already been made—that God foresaw at the establishment of the Universe. The only true Freedom is in Christ.
“It is for freedom that Christ has set us free” (Gal. 5.1).
And when we really understand—I mean really, really try to grasp—that we could do absolutely nothing to earn this gift of Freedom, I think we finally merge the great divide to something like accessing it.

We give up all self-righteousness when we find true freedom. We give up on pride when we find true freedom. We eliminate all sense of insecurity, self-hate and envy when we discover true freedom. And when we are no longer bound by the patterns of this world, we become a whole lot more like Christ. We adopt His mind and His will when we live within the freedom that has always been available to us.

Freedom is as Freedom does.

Thanks for stopping by.
Stay Dusty.
*b.Nicole

Response: Suicide and Eternity

Anonymous said...

How do you feel about suicide and heaven? If you repent before you well do the deed do you still get into heaven?????

August 18, 2011 2:50 PM

Response:

I will say, I appreciate your comment more than you could know. I also must note--I am just a human, with human knowledge, dealing with real human problems. I will begin more traditionally by sharing some of the specific places the Text deals with these issues… but then I will follow up with what the entire narrative--within the full context of how I understand the story of God and His creation-- tells my heart.

There are seven recorded instances of suicide in the Bible. Probably the two most well-known occurrences are the acts of Judas Iscariot (the one that betrayed Jesus, recorded in the synoptic gospels) and Samson (the Jewish judge that was essentially the ancient-equivalent of the 9/11 bombers, recorded in the book of Judges). (If you are not familiar with these stories, I would encourage you to follow think link to both Judas and Sampson and familiarize yourself with this content. A brief reading could lay foundational context in approaching this subject.) Interestingly, Judas’s choice was committed in shame, remorse and guilt and the Bible does not seem to approve of his act. Yet in contrast, Sampson’s act was spurred by his request to God for great strength—strength enough to pull down the supporting pillars of a temple—on top of himself and many more Philistine “rulers and people.” It seems atrocious, but God is recorded as approving of Sampson’s sacrifice.

So we have two forms of suicide within these stories, as well as two different divine reactions. The problem of suicide (from a biblical perspective) does not seem to revolve around the “act” itself as much as we may have originally considered. Perhaps there is something larger, or completely different at play.

Without diving too deep into the nature of God, the problem of Good and Evil/Heaven and Hell, it seems that Anonymous is asking about suicide within the context of the eternal existence that the Bible refers to as “heaven.” Since biblical terminology has been introduced, I can only assume the regard for the Bible that I possess.

I think the Bible is Absolute Truth. Now, my own human understanding of this Truth is an entirely different subject, but I can only continue allowing the Text and this life to influence and expand my understanding. Also, when I refer to Absolute Truth, I do not mean historical, nor scientific, accuracy. To explain--although there probably never existed two little German children named Hansel and Gretel that left a trail of crumbs on their way to play, the story may contain Truth—in the capital “T” sense. There may be a lesson within the story that deems the fable worth telling. Also, instead of dissecting the individual segments of the Bible (although this vein of study can be beneficial, as well), when I consider Universal or Ultimate Truth, I try to consider the entire story. From my understanding of the entire story, I believe God is Good. Perhaps I cannot understand His Goodness, but my hope informs my faith of this, even in my lack of understanding, and I trust in the Text that affirms my hope. I also believe in the full reconciliation of the Creator to His Creation. “For God was pleased to have all his fullness dwell in him [speaking of Jesus], and through him to reconcile to himself [God] all things, whether things on earth or things in heaven, by making peace through his blood, shed on the cross.” God wants everything to be reconciled to Him. I believe this with all my heart. That said… here are a few considerations.

What is wrong with suicide? I would venture to say that suicide is playing God. I would consider suicide in the same “category of transgression” as murder. Taking a life is taking a life, whether someone else’s or your own. There are many atrocities of terror that, as in Sampson’s case that appear as martyrdom—a single soldier with a sure fate running to the front line of a battle to save his platoon, or the lone astronaut that stayed behind on Apollo 13—but these have a diametrically distinct sentiment to the acts we most often refer to as suicide. The latter are normally characterized by shame, guilt, depression, hopelessness and loss. When someone takes their own life in this state, I feel as though they have lost faith in God--lost faith that His Goodness, although not synonymous with happiness, will see them through. Life seems to be some kind of training ground, full of lessons and obstacles to bring us closer to the image of Christ. Many Christians live for the Afterlife, and become focally fixated on heaven and hell to the extent that they ignore, what I see as, an intricate part of God’s intent of Creation. So, although this life may be “fleeting,” there must be some eternal aspect or significance to it that gives it any validity.

I see Jesus’ ministry as much more immediate and with far more emphasis on the life we have here on earth, than the Christian perspective tends to embrace. I also see our purpose here as a partnership in ushering in the eternal—that somehow we are a part of “all things being reconciled to himself.” God has given us ways to be a part of this. He has shown us how to be a part of this in Jesus—whom is our Salvation. Our salvation seems to be in taking part of His plan and abiding within His will. (Salvation here is not in the eternal sense, but in the freedom offered in the life God offers.) Cutting out early is missing out on the opportunities to be a part of this incredible story. And this is where I think the tragedy lies.

So is suicide sin? In 1 John 3.4, sin is considered a “transgression of the law” or anything “unrighteous” (1 John 5.17). Then Paul adds in Ephesians, that “what is not of faith is sin.” To me, I see sin as anything outside of God’s will. I would consider suicide a sin. Many people attach this particular sin, because it is a finality I would assume, as an act that would exclude the sinner/victim from the eternal existence outlined in the Bible. Yet, there is only sin the Bible lists as unforgivable--blasphemy against the Spirit. This unforgivable transgression is referenced in all three synoptic gospels. Therefore, suicide is forgivable. And then the question may arise, "But if repentance and acceptance of Christ as Savior is necessary for salvation, when would someone who had killed themself have the opportunity to repent?"  But there must be many that have died with unrepented sin.  And if the person were so deeply lost in the darkness without a sight of Hope, yet all their life, they saught out the Goodness in God and this world and they recognized and knew Christ as Saviour, will they face eternal condemnation?  I struggle here, but my heart hopes for a God larger than death and time.

Such logic, of an arbitrary judgement, disregards the eternal nature of God. We are bound by a directionally limited existence—we can only move forward in time, like one-direction ray. In eternity, this concept of time in progression would be unnecessary. Eternity is not bound by time as we are. Therefore, the ordinal chronology of repentance and sin may be irrelevant.

In my understanding of God’s ultimate plan for reconciliation, my heart would hope that all would be brought into his eternal existence. I think He certainly wants this, as well. I do not know what would happen eternally to a person that takes their own life, but I know God must mourn the loss of hope in His creation as my own heart mourns the brokenness and destitution of suicide.

But most of all, to really “answer your question,” this is not my call. I know that brings us back to square one. But I am not Judge. All I can do is seek to understand the life He calls me to today—in this life—and hope that His life in me will bring others into this incredible plan, as well. And although I could never know for certain in this life whether or not there is an Eternal Heaven and Hell, I live my life considering that there may be. But without focusing on where I (or others) will end up, I focus on how I can live THIS LIFE as a part of His Creation. I don’t know how much this would help, but this trajectory is where my heart brought me. If you have more questions, please continue the conversation. Your heart for people is very apparent, Anonymous. Thank you.
Stay Dusty.
b.Nicole

 

RESPONSE: Has anyone ever stopped and asked...

Comment from Original Post:


       Anonymous said...

YES!!! I've asked that question to the point where it's caused me great anxiety! Why would Jesus have to die and how does that save me? I mean, this is the very core of our faith, isn't it? This is the first time I've had it explained to me this way and it was quite encouraging and thought-provoking. So, thank you!

I still have a lingering question or two. For example, who wrote the rule/law that there must be a sacrifice made or that the consequence of sin is death? Why did Abraham and his people have to be perfect to be blessed?

Thanks again!

Hello, there "Anonymous." :) Thank you for your words.. and your questions. I am going to attempt this, but please understand that I am in no way claiming to "have it figured out..." I ask a lot of questions, too--and when I start digging around and exploring the context of the Text, I sometimes end up with a few "ideas," but I normally find myself in a mountain of entirely new questions. So I completely relate.  

As for your questions... I don't know that there is a "law," per se, that requires a death sacrifice (that is, before the covenant with Abraham), but the blood covenant I refer to in this post is a cultural tradition that still exists in Bedouin culture today. The blood covenant is most often associated with the marital customs, but there are also times when a business deal or land dispute would necessitate a blood covenant. The greater party would be the groom's father and the lesser would be the bride's father (or grandfather). If the bride did not keep her promises--she wasn't a virgin, she didn't stay faithful, etc.--you would more than likely find her father or grandfather dead in a wadi, with bloody footprints dancing over the ground of his blood. Same scenario with the groom--if he did not provide for his bride, treat her well, provide the promised dowry--you would be sure to find the groom's father's body slung out in the desert, again with the mark of bare feet in his blood. This was simply the nature of the covenant.  

Now, in reading Genesis 15, God has promised Abram some very wonderful blessings. Abram is a righteous man of faith, and he tries to call God's bluff. Abram asks for some sign that he would know that God intended to keep his promise.  

Then, God commands Abram to go get a few very specific animals. (Later in the Hebrew Bible, these become the acceptable animals of an atonement sacrifice.)  

And next verse, Abram cuts the animals in half and lays them across from each other... This seems bizarre. There is no recording of God instructing Abram to do anything specific with the animals; God simply says, "Go get them." But God seems to be pleased, or at least not surprised, by Abram's actions, so it seems that God has approved of this ceremony or was expecting it. And to be fair-- perhaps God did instruct Abram to do this, and the Bible just has not recorded God's directions.  

But I believe there is another possibility.  

To me, when God asks Abram to gather the animals, and Abram knows exactly what to do with them, suggest that there must have already existed a custom in Abram's day that involved these specific animals. I grab my dog's leash and she runs to the door, wagging her tail in frenzied expectation. She knows what is coming, and I believe that at this point in Genesis 15, Abram knows exactly what is coming, as well.  

Thus, in the Covenant, the terms were not, "Abram--I give you all the heirs, a land to serve me, and and the blessing of the Messiah. So I will die for you to keep my promise." The covenant was, "Abram, I bless you with all these things, and in exchange, you and your offspring must be blameless." The CONSEQUENCE for not following through with a covenant--by default of EITHER party--would call for the blood of the transgressor. The covenant would then be null and void, and neither party would have any obligation to the other.  

And now, the incredible pictures in this story begin to unfold... God, the greater party, passes through the bloodpath first, sealing His promise to Abram. Next up would traditionally be Abram, being the lesser party. But if Abram steps one teeny-tiny toe into the blood, he essentially voids the transaction and will pay with his life.  

In this moment, I imagine Abram-- about to sentence himself to death--and God throws His strong, gentle arm in Abram's beating chest, and with the sage gravity of a martyr says, "No, my son. I've got this."  

And the terms all of a sudden change.  

God still says, "Abram--I give you all the heirs, a land to serve me, and and the blessing of the Messiah," as well as, "Abram, I bless you with all these things, and in exchange, you and your offspring must be blameless." But the difference is that God walked through the bloodpath path twice. Therefore, God ultimately says," If you, Abram, and your offspring are not perfect, YOU may do this to ME."  

And this is actually what I view as the necessity for God/Christ's death. He had to fall at our hands. And with His death, a new covenant is made. Hebrews 7 refers to this, "For if that first covenant had been faultless, there would have been no occasion to look for a second." Abram and his offspring failed, as we fail. We have sinned, and our sin sentenced Jesus to death on the cross. But this was God's gift to us. And in the completion of the Old Covenant, we can rejoice in the New Promise. '

So, this was long, but I was good for me to review all of this, as well. If you had these questions, I am sure others did, as well--even if they have not expressed or even fully formulated them. Thanks again...  

And as always, be encouraged.  
Stay dusty, 
*b.Nicole

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.  

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

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