A Further Reconciliation

Most here understand that, a reconciliation of all to Creator-God will occur. Most of us would also understand that, within, at least the Protestant segment of Christianity, there is a deep and wide division between those who lean toward Calvin and those who are equally certain that Arminius was right. Calvin beheld God’s glory and sovereignty and emphasized those scriptures which describe God’s election and choice. He believed some were predestined to heaven, some to hell and nothing could change this. There are certainly many scriptures which support this view, but there are others which support Arminius who emphasized mankind’s choice. From him we get the doctrine of free will, the fact that we must choose to be saved and that our will can overcome God’s will in our own salvation. I’m not so concerned in this little essay with what the broad spectrum of Christianity believes in this matter, but rather with we to whom the golden mystery of ultimate universal reconciliation has been revealed. This same schism exists between us and, while debate and division is the farthest thing from my mind, I would like to suggest that there is a beautiful solution which fits universal reconciliation perfectly. Considering all possibilities between Calvin and Arminius we have six possible options: Calvin (predestination/sovereignty of God) Arminius (free will) 1 God predestines all mankind to destruction All mankind refuse to be saved 2 Some are predestined to salvation, others to damnation Some choose to be saved, some to be lost 3 God chooses all to be saved All choose to be saved No one, so far as I know, believes the first option within any denomination. I doubt there would be many members in the pews of such a denomination. The second option, is, of course, the great divide between the two camps. Some are predestined or choose to be saved, some to damnation. I won’t dwell on this as the debate is far too long-winded already. The third option, however, makes my heart sing which is a good thing since I can’t sing with my vocal chords. God, in infinite patience, love and wisdom knows just how to woo each of us and each of them, to the point where crying a rapturous “Yes! “is our freest and joyous response. Perhaps we can think of a persistent lover who, wishing to win the heart of his beloved, presents himself to her in as many ways as possible and with his best clothes and manners. Eventually she sees how wonderful he is and, with all misgivings shattered, she says that one fateful word. We know that the wooer is not always truthful in his attempt to win the hand of the fair maid, but this is not true of our heavenly Suitor. Saul/Paul is probably the best scriptural example I can cite. His threats are as hot as the noonday sun and foul the air around him as the dust kicked up by the weary horses hooves. Then he is struck to the ground with the heavenly vision. That vision shattered his world and he spent the next several years rebuilding a new reality which was Jesus and Him crucified. His brilliant legal mind grappled with the law and the prophets and we are the beneficiary of his wrestlings in the letters he wrote. The divine Lover knew what would break his stubbornness and win his heart. I used to wish that God would do something like that to me. I knew I would fully and constantly believe in Him for the rest of my life if He would just appear in the noonday heat and confront me. What I didn’t know what that He was fashioning my own Damascus road just for me; a longer, slower road, with little drama and fuss, but just as certain. Are we not all on our own road to Damascus? Will He not ultimately find us, woo us and win us? How glorious will be that moment when the last soul surrenders to His love song and, weeping tears of gratitude, falls at His feet in grateful surrender! Now I know that some will certainly disagree with me. I have no quarrel with you. Hit the delete button and join me in a rousing chorus of “We Are One in the Spirit.” For hair-splitting theological discussion isn’t my cup of tea. Theology isn’t studying about Him, but knowing Him. Perhaps for one, this little essay will be a squeegee clearing one more facet into the Infinite that He is. 3.2.14

I Have a Dream

I have a dream: that all nations, kindreds, tongues and peples are at peace with each other and with themselves; that all nations, kindreds, tongues and peoples are at peace with their Creator and that perfect accord and harmony reigns within families, nations, and between all races of mankind; that the one blood of which we are all partakers is recognized as that one thing which ties us all together; that the blood of humanity ties God and mankind together in an indissoluable union. I have a dream: that all humankind will one day join in bowing before Creator-Sustainer in praise, worship and awe; that all, finally and completely reconciled will know that love is His only coersion, His only power against that most stubborn of all foes, the human heart; that every heart yielded to that ever-drawing love will finally respond with joyous resonating chords of joy. I have a dream: that, ages hence, all will know that their path has continuously been directed toward Him who is love; that wanderers and rebels all, their imost desires, their deepest, their ultimate need was for Him whose love constantly shepherded their steps through the darkest of nights, the deepest of sins, the most violent of their rebellions, the farthest of wanderings. I have a dream and know it to be reality, for it is Your dream, planted in our hearts and spirits, which You nourish by Your Spirit and Your word and which You fan into a white-hot blaze of loving admiration. 3.2.14

If I Were Jesus' Grandpa

If I were Jesus’ grandpa, I’d make funny faces to light up his smile. I’d tickle him under the chin and laugh with him. I’d rock and soothe him to sleep and when colic struck, I’d pat his back and rub his tummy until the gas bubble completed its journey. Sometimes, I would hold him on my chest, making a bed for him. I’d lay on the hard-packed clay floor until he fell asleep. I’d feel his gentle breathing and hear the flutter of his heartbeat. His body heat would blend with mine-a transcendent joy. I’d wrap him into my cloak and we would sleep until he stirred for food. Finding I wasn’t the source, he’d fuss until I turned him over to Mary, then I’d burp him and put him back on my chest to finish our shared sleep. If I were Jesus’ grandpa, I’d roll a wooden ball across the hard dirt floor to him and laugh with him when it went out the open doorway. I’d let him chase me till he caught me and play peek-a-boo for ten minutes straight. I’d make a humming noise and run a finger over my lips to make funny noises just to hear his laugh. If I were jesus’ grandpa, I’d take him by the hand and turn rocks over at stream’s edge to find what lives underneath. I’d put him on my shoulders and we’d walk for miles watching hawks and eagles, snakes and lizards and counting how many red flowers we could find along the way. If I were Jesus’ grandpa, we’d sit by the fire at night and talk of old things and new; things from my childhood and from his future. We’d lay plans for a box planter for Mary’s garden and a wheelbarrow for the neighbor down the road. We’d count and sing songs and learn the alphabet. If I were jesus’ grandpa, I’d watch Him play with neighbor kids, running and tumbling in the dust, knowing Mary would scold me for letting him get so dirty, but knowing she really didn’t mean it. I’d teach him how to find a field bird’s nest and watch long enough for mother bird to lose her suspicion. I’d show him how to climb the rocks safely, watching for snakes and scorpions then thrilling in the bird’s-eye view from the peak. If I were Jesus’ grandpa, I’d tell him his family’s history; of the old days of Abraham and Isaac and Jacob; Of Moses and the freedom march from Egypt. I’d tell him of Joseph and Joshua and Jonah; of David, Jonathan and Solomon; of Deborah, Ruth and Esther. I’d tell him the bad parts too, those times when our fathers lost it and found their enemies overwhelming them and of the many rescues from dire straits. I’d tell him of my father and his father and his father all the way back to Abraham and, when he was older, all the way back to Adam. If I were Jesus’ grandpa, I’d sit with him as he recited words from the Torah. We’d talk of them and their meaning. He would stump me, I know, with his questions, but we would enjoy the time and the thoughts exchanged. Later, I would be surprised and terrified of his depth of insight and understanding. His interpretation would sound strange in my ears, but sing a wondrous song of truth to my heart. Later still, when he would begin to apply dreadful sayings to himself, I would tremble for him, should they turn out to be true. Then, before his real time came, mine would come and I would know nothing of his triumph or success; whether his gloomy terrifying predictions turned out or not. That is one of the blessings and curses of being a grandpa, that is, of reading the beginning of the book but knowing that, no matter how well written, you will never read the end. But if I were Jesus’ grandpa, I’d be OK with that, knowing that everything is in His real Father’s hands and that, in some strange but immensely important way, His life would be a larger-than-normal one. Grandpas just know such things. And, though I’m not Jesus’ grandpa, there is, in the reality of the grandpa that I am, in the joys and sorrows of the real life grandkids, an echo of what might have been, and I am deeply touched. 2.5.14

Evening News

“….and now the news.” From the town crier, to the gossip at table to the newspaper headline to the evening news, we hear and read stories of that which happens to family, friends, neighbors and strangers around the world. Mostly it’s bad news: murder, terrorist acts, kidnappings, theft and spectacular falls from power. Once in a while a heart-warming puppy story or a do-gooder story slips through to soften the harsh reality of this world. How often I’ve heard, from the pulpit the news is “a reporting of the acts of the devil.” In saying this, though, are we in danger of joining the Pharisees who attributed to Satan the casting out of demons which were done by the power of the Holy Spirit through Jesus? Kali, the Hindu goddess of darkness and death is usually worshipped as a destroying force, yet, in some mystical way, she also seen as a creative force as well. I’m not advocating a belief in kali or any other god besides the Creator God of Hebrew and Christian scriptures, but perhaps we are missing something in our deity when we ascribe to Him only creative acts? Does scripture attribute only what we think of as good things to Him? The first acts of God, the Creator are all deemed to be “good:” light, separation of water and earth, plants, heavenly bodies, animals and mankind are all good in His eyes. In a very few verses, though, mankind eats of the forbidden tree and begins to learn of both good and evil. God begins to separate, to divide, to categorize that which was once only one. Then the great cataclysm which He Himself caused. He becomes a Destroyer. Through the subsequent centuries He divides mankind into families, chooses Abram’s family over all others; chooses Jacob over Esau, Judah over his brethren, Israel over Egypt. When the nation of Israel is formed, the tribe of Levi is selected the house of Aaron as priests. Later, as the nation’s territory is being conquered and for the following centuries, He who is Creator continues in His destructive role. He orders Israel to conquer this or that nation and leave none alive. We begin to view this God as both creator and destroyer-a dual God whom man needs to placate in order not to activate His destructive nature. Often, when the God of the gospels, Jesus of Nazareth is compared to the destructive God of the Old Covenant, we have a difficult time explaining the coherence of the two. The gentle Jesus contrasted with the thundering deity who demands blood offerings and the death of Israel’s enemies. Some have postulated that the God of the early Israelites was a “primitive” god view, one which grew out of primitive and inadequate understandings of God. But this introduces a false dichotomy, a schizophrenic God who acts destructively at one time and creatively and lovingly at another. How then can we describe this God who creates and destroys? Is He a Kali, a destructive god? Or, as the philosophers ask, “If god is all good and all powerful, He must be evil in order to permit evil or powerless because He does not stop it.” There are, however, other reasons for not stopping evil that could be considered. The time may not be right for an intervention. For example, the D Day invasion of Europe by the Allies during World War II didn’t happen until June 7, 1944. It took years of planning, building up stockpiles of arms and munitions, much effort in deceiving the enemy as to the timing and location of the invasion and determining the best tide and time conditions. Just so with the continuation of evil. There is, no doubt, an optimal day and hour for the invasion of this world and putting an end to evil. Another possibility, and to me, a more likely one, is that all of this which we consider to be evil is 1. An ultimate good and 2. Part of an overarching goal toward which His plans are inexorably leading. Evil as Ultimate Good I remember one spanking from my childhood. My dad took me over his knees and administered the spanking. I remember the pain but not the episode for which it was administered. I am sure that I changed my behavior as a result! Perhaps, in a similar way, that which we consider to be evil is for our individual and corporate best interests. We may not have some ultimate blessing or benefit without the loving discipline of our heavenly Father. In light of the glories of His presence, what we endure here, no matter how terrible will result in some ultimate goodness which will cause the pain and anguish of this evil moment to shrink to insignificance in comparison. I believe this to be so. His Ultimate Plan But for me, an even more profound explanation exists. Paul says in Ephesians: He made known to us the mystery of His will, according to His kind intention which He purposed in Him with a view to an administration suitable to the fullness of the times, that is, the summing up of all things in Christ, things in the heavens and things on the earth. In Him also we have obtained an inheritance, having been predestined according to His purpose who works all things after the counsel of His will, to the end that we who were the first to hope in Christ would be to the praise of His glory. The phrase: “…who works all things after the counsel of His will…” says to me that God is at work behind the scenes shaping and managing all things according to His plan and will. If this is true, then what happens is in His power and is subject to His will. Paul also says, “Of Him, through Him and to Him are all things.” If all things are “of/from” Him; if all things happen “through Him,” then what is, what we see on the evening news, is His doing, not the mischief of the evil one. We who take the name of Christ need to bravely acknowledge, fearlessly own that these things, these horrific murders, rapes, child abuses, hurricanes, floods, droughts are all of His doing. They are not neglectful ignorings; they are not punishments for sin committed, they are not the inflictions of an arbitrary or whimsical God but the loving events in our lives which, when seen from the eternal perspective and within that great plan of His are but the events which lead us toward Him; which turn us in His direction and for which we will ever praise Him for His wisdom. So, now, when I watch the evening news, I see His hand at work, shaping the events of this world on the macro and micro levels into a coherent tapestry of infinite beauty. I see only the chaotic tangle of threads on the back side; he sees the completed story of humanity in all its beauty and glory. In One Man, all of this came together. In one horrific event all of mankind’s sin and suffering was focused. “He bore our sins in His body on the cross…” God Himself absorbed into Himself all that we have suffered, all the suffering we have experienced and caused; all the pain he inflicted on us in love. One day, at age nine, having been given a magnifying glass, I knelt on the sidewalk and focused the sun’s rays on individual ants. They instantly shriveled into an unrecognizable blob. This is not an image of our God. He does not inflict meaningless pain. He also is not the pawn of the devil nor is he constantly reacting to crises caused by our choices, making bad things turn into good. He inflicts only good on us; we see it as evil, but we will, one day, know it for what it is. In that day when we no longer see in an obscured mirror but see Him as he is, then, Oh glorious day! We will know Him and His acts on our behalf as His wise and good deeds. Now, viewing the evening news, I praise Him for that which I cannot understand, knowing that these are the acts of the One who loves us enough to give us what is for our best and highest good. This is a hard saying. Perhaps it will turn some away from Him, but should we not acknowledge that which is, not that which would ascribe the glorious deeds of our God to the enemy? Let God defend Himself. He is the master chess player seeing His end game in each and every move. Few of His moves seems logical; some seems unfair; some seem cruel, but none are so. He works all things in conformity with the kind intention of His will. As Julian of Norwich says, “All shall be well…and all manner of things shall be well.” 1/15/14

Master Builder

In order to make my point in this essay, I need to tell you something about myself. In 1970, I graduated with a double major in engineering and architecture from a rather prestigious US university. Over the next four years I finished master's degrees in both of those subjects and have worked in these fields around the world since then. Along the way, I’ve become both a journeyman electrician and plumber. I’ve purchased mines, manufacturing and distribution networks over the years and have a workshop in which I can build anything from a watch to a semi-truck. All of my tools are hand made from raw materials mined from one of my mines and manufactured in my workshop.. Five years ago, I decided to build a house for my wife as a love gift. Using my knowledge as an architect and engineer, I designed the house. It wasn’t Bill-Gates size, but roomy with all the latest technical innovations and some that aren’t yet on the market. I built it myself using my own tools and lumber from my private forests. Bannisters cabinetry and trim were of rare woods grown in these forests. Concrete came from my mines as did rock and slate for external walls, garden paths and roof. The pool was the size of two olympic-size pools designed as a natural lake. I also built an elaborate gazebo some distance from the house with grills and heating for cold-weather entertainment. As you can see, I spared no expense. You may have noticed that I used the past tense “was” in describing the house. Here’s what happened: When it was finished and landscaped, I took my wife on a meandering drive through various Portland neighborhoods. As we drove, the size and expense of the houses increased markedly. She began exclaiming over each new revelation as we wound through the most expensive neighborhood. We came to a gate at the end of the road. I swiped a card and the gate swung open. She looked at me, puzzled, but knowing me, she didn’t say anything. The road narrowed, but continued to wind through forest. At last we broke out into the open. Manicured lawns, artfully placed trees and shrubs drew the eye to small waterfalls and ponds. A deer flitted through the trees at the edge of what was designed as a forest meadow. Around a final bend, the house came into view. It blended perfectly with its surrounding with native stone facades and slate roof. We stopped in the driveway of the ten-car garage, already housing some of my antique vehicles. Opening her door, I ushered her toward the front door of the house and handed her a plastic card. I pointed to a card reader and she inserted it. The front door started to open. Suddenly a creaking and cracking sound started high up in the eaves. I knew what that meant, though it puzzled me intensely. I snatched her away from the front door just in time to have a pile of slate crash to the ground where we had been standing. The roof collapsed in on itself. The walls leaned out and fell into piles of rubble. Internal walls collapsed followed by the ornate stone fireplaces. Plumbing pointed skyward as if seeking a reprieve then it too fell into the tangle of stone and wood. In a matter of moments, what had been a magnificent structure, of incredible beauty and value was nothing but junk. Taking her trembling hand in mine, we walked to the back of the rubble pile. The water in the pool had become a violent vortex, siphoning into the ground with a rushing sucking sound that was terrible to hear. It went dry before our eyes, revealing a giant hole. I turned to see the gazebo. It was the only structure undamaged. In rage and frustration I lit a match and threw it into the wreckage which had been the pride of my life. It sputtered then caught and roared to life. The resulting conflagration consumed all that was left. Later, I built a propane-fed furnace that kept the pile of unburnable materials red hot. I wanted it to remind me forever of my folly. What failed? Was it my plan? My materials? My workmanship? My tools? My skills? Was it the work of an outside enemy whose cunning I had not anticipated? Something went horribly wrong and in my anger, I burned the it and made it uninhabitable by anyone else. Somewhere along the line, I’m sure you figured out that there is an element of exaggeration in this story. Let me assure you, none of it is true. I’m merely emulating the Master-storyteller’s technique of allegory. So, along with Him, let me explain my symbolism. The knowledge and skill I claim to have is analogous to His infinite wisdom and knowledge. The resources of mine and wood are His creative ability. He speaks; it exists. The tools are His creative power. The plans are His plan for this world and the house is this world and the universe. The burning of the house and the perpetual propane flame is hell. In His infinite wisdom, power and knowledge, He designed and created a perfect universe. Then at the dawn of His introduction of this perfection to the object of His love, Adam and Eve, it all fell apart. This little allegory is what most Christians believe happened to God soon after creation. A created creature, the serpent, used by another created creature, the devil, tricked Eve and Adam into rebellion. This he did by tempting them to eat of the fruit of the forbidden tree, which God created and of which he had explicitly forbidden them to eat. He planted both trees-the one of knowledge of good and evil and the other of life. And when it all went wrong, we are told by theologians, He casts the refuse of his failure into an ever-burning fire which will never be extinguished and from which none escape. The “lost” pay the penalty for the failure of their creator. Woven into this Genesis story is a conundrum. If God created all these things: Satan, the serpent, Adam and Eve, the garden, the trees, the fruit; if he is all-knowing, all-wise, all powerful, how did this chaos start? Was it His plan? His workmanship? His tools? His knowledge? Was it an external enemy? Where did the pride which some say crept into the heart of one of His created beings come from? Was there a design flaw? How can something go awry when brought into existence by One who is everything that is required to make perfection? No matter how these questions are answered, at least in the standard explanations, there must be some flaw in God Himself or there is something outside of Him that has the power to thwart, subvert and force Him to change His plans. Is He an impotent, inept, myopic, doddering Alzheimer God or is all this we see around us a part of His master plan? 1/24/14