Text: Colossians 3:1-4

Narcissus takes a gander.

I have heard many complain that they did not want to be “so heavenly-minded that they were no earthly good.” But we are usually in no personal danger of this. In fact, I have yet to meet a human being who was. I have met people who were in danger of being so “religious” that they were no earthly good; but never too “heavenly-minded.”

When people speak of heaven they often wax eloquent as if heaven were an ethereal dreamland. But heaven is more real than you or I. While we are but a vapor upon this earth, we speak of the throne of God as if it were a wishful wisp of smoke from our great-grandfather’s pipe.

In the same way that we are insane to create God in our image (when in fact it is the reverse), so to project a heaven out of your own infantile crayon-on-paper theologies is cute but should go no further than under a magnet on the fridge. Heaven informs our lives and those places in our lives that now seem the most solid in Christ. These are the beginnings of becoming a citizen of Heaven where such creativity, vision, knowledge and reflected glory will be more powerful than we can imagine. What does C.S. Lewis say? Beings so luminous that if we were to see them today we would be “strongly tempted to worship” them.

Not only is heaven our future, it is to be our present. We are to “seek the things above”- present tense -“where Christ is”- now – “at the right hand of God”.  The closest I can come to interpreting the meaning of this verse is that we are to seek the reality of the Kingdom of God in our life here in someway suggestive of the present reality we can not see, but is our future reality.

Jesus Christ is the most heavenly minded, yet the most earthly good. Can you name one man who has ever been more earthly good than Jesus of Nazareth? Now can you name one man who has ever been more heavenly minded than Jesus of Nazareth? The truth is, the heavens themselves reflect the eternal glory of Christ, yet no man has ever been more earthly good than Christ, the “Second Adam,” God in the flesh.

The Jesus follower who is heavenly minded, will always be  active, Why? Because Jesus is the most active agent in Creation in all ways at all times, even holding all of it together relationally at this very moment in a way beyond human comprehension. To be a follower of this Living One to actively become a part of that as you are “in Him” and He is in you.

To be “heavenly-minded” is to have the “mind of Christ”; and it is unfortunate that many of us simply want the old mind back. The eternal perspective is to be taught by God to see a bit from His vantage point. To be sure, in a “mirror dimly” is all we can take in. But someday “face to face” and then we shall be like Him.

We either stare at our own reflections as they fall away and get more dim and despair what we are, or if we have taken Paul seriously as the young Colossians did. Vision beyond self to Christ in the world, in the others you know, live with, work with or see on the street. With that understanding, the impermanence of this world is obvious yet its beauty points beyond itself. Though the mirror away from self is dim, clarity is coming and even now, you have it from time to time in flashes, in a dream, in a moment. In those brief moments you know and embody what Paul asks, not given false hope in some benign state of passive bliss; buy real hope, the ultimate subversion of all fantasies with reality.

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For the last 25 years I have heard Christians say, “Two thousand years ago..blah blah blah…” And, of course, they were rounding up or down time-wise.

But today is December 25, in the Year of our Lord 2000.

It is the ONE and only day we can say, “Two Thousand years ago TODAY, God…”

Yes, 2,000 years ago, today, the Creator of the Universe decided to crash the Human Party, which had turned damned ugly. If listen those who were there, they claim that God Himself, came bumping and birthing out of a young girl’s womb and spilled into the riot that is this world.

But it is right here that the folk Kierkegaard is talking about start to shout, “But Jesus wasn’t born in December! That was the way Christians appropriated the pagan holiday..blah blah blah…”

Or, gasbag scholars (with tenure) will go on and on about how Jesus was “more likely born 4 years prior to the date that was used in the formation of our current calendar” (thus Jesus was probably born in the spring of 4 B.C. …yea, yea…he was born four years before he was born.)

But when they go this route they are missing the whole point.

What about what happened when Jesus was born somewhere between the spring of 4 BC and our “traditional” (read “darkened glass”) date?

Kierkegaard says elsewhere that even if no historical records had survived about Jesus, he would still be the most important and central figure of human history.

Why?

Because he was God, and he willfully and deliberately dove into our mire for love’s sake. (Could it be that reality is more real than history?)

I mean, c’mon, what kind of God allows himself to become a human baby?

It’s either the most asinine
or the most beautiful thing
you’ve every heard your whole life.

The coming of Jesus, as God into our riot, is the radical opposite of religion–all of it, “Christian” or otherwise.

So, what do many churches do with this incredible miracle, this challenge to the whole way we view ourselves, our human history and our ultimate destiny and meaning?

They make a “religious service” out of it. And this is done in the most visual, audience, and entertainment-oriented culture in human history (“Damn Jim, I got 168 new channels on my new satellite dish…it’s unreal”) the Church with all it’s radical vision and devotion to Jesus does what?

The “Christmas services” many churches prepare serve to transform the naked amneotic reality of Jesus’ birth into an ethereal place of simple, rustic, “Country Home” beauty. In creating a visual and entertainment-oriented service, we are invited to sit and passively watch just like we do Will and Grace or last week’s episode of ER.

If, as Kierkegaard suggests, we should see Jesus for what he was, is, and will always be, then that would apply to his birth in Bethlehem.

So let’s strip away the “darkened glass of tradition and the current cultural prejudices” and ask, what should be up on the church stage for these Christmas productions?

The answer is obvious. Go visit a barn.

Go visit an American barn which is, by the way, a world away from a Bethlehem barn, and ask that simple question again: what should our Christmas productions look and feel like if we are to see Jesus for who he was, is and always will be?

_____________________________________________

To start with, how about manure, and lots of it?

There must be a great deal of it and stench.

Then we must add slop for the animals and dirty water troughs on the sides of the church stage to maintain any accuracy at all.

In other words, the whole church should reek of dank poverty, or, at the very least, to make a legitimate cultural bridge, reflect a modern American barn (which has shit and piss and is cold and is a good, but dirty, business).

And instead of whitewashing the event into something about us, and our sentiments at Christmastime, how about talking about the real deal and asking good questions like “Why did God choose to come this way?” “What does it mean that there was no room available for God when he came? What does it mean that he was placed in a feeding trough after birth? (that’s what a “manger” is). What does it means that instead of lying quietly in a sweet designer/manger bed, the baby Jesus was screeching his head off like every other baby..EXACTLY like every other baby…laying inside a hard and putrid feeding trough and surrounded by the dank smell of animal dung?

This is what would be needed.

But no.

We have this clean and completely nonfunctional “manger”, and then a big production which is all about us and our artistic gifts, then a short message relating the beautifully decorated Christmas tree to how Christ needs to be in our homes. And on it goes.

It’s a show. We are the audience, God is an idea, and the performers are worried about how they will perform in the show, not about the glory of God or his incomprehensible love.

Kierkegaard said elsewhere, that our worshippers/audience are really supposed to be the performers, and that the audience is not us at all, it is God.

Wow!

Imagine if more modern American churches took that seriously! (And if you know of any, please email me info).

And we’re not talking performing to “appease” God. We’re talking performing for the sheer enjoyment of God and his glory and out of gratitude that this God has such love and such a passion to be known that he would do this radical thing (and we are not even talking about the exit yet, just the intro).

So, if the audience are really meant to be the performers, who then are the people on stage.

They are the “conductors,” says Kierkegaard, as is the preacher.

God is the audience on such a day, not us. (and heck, let’s just keep doing it all year long. It’s a Theocentric universe, so why not keep acting accordingly?)

How are we supposed to feel when the greatest event in human history, and one which is deeply personal for each of us mortals, is so utterly lost and covered up with layers of denial that the very crash of God breaking into human history is made into something like the sound of a digital watch alarm going off under a pile of thick blankets?

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Well, it’s about 9:30 PST on Christmas, year 2000. Philosophically, an interesting historical night, right?

But I’ve been tending four kids all day long, alone, because my wife is racked with a severe flu and is bedridden.

And in the meantime, our toilets all clogged up (it started Christmas eve) and so the bathrooms are plunged hourly.

This, in very obvious ways, hourly bilges up all kinds of flu-invested shit, vomit and piss. This Christmas, our normal “Country Home” existence stinks just a little like a barn.

It’s a perfect Gospel night. Just like 2,000 years ago, give or take, when God…

Title unknown. One of J.Rod Swenson's infamous "Bob the Dog" paintings.

(In honor of Rod and Liz Ann Larson-Swenson’s union read aloud on their wedding day. )

The other day in a

Class I was teaching

We were figuring out

The Trinity like

Fifth graders trying out

Some new unknown

Hormone.

We the dust

Flirting and flitting with

Him Who ever Holds

Us up

Yet dives below our

Deathening prides

To pull up our

New lives.

So I laughed

A big Swedish laugh

(I’m half-Swedish, you know)

Okay,

So I laughed

A big half-Swedish laugh

At the metaphors

And J. Roderick

The big Swede rolled my way

Like a cord of lumber

Like a carton of

Fresh-tapped maple syrup

Wanting to slam-dance

And when he was done slamming

And yelling his deafening love

Into my left ear

I watched him lay down weeping

Beside a pool named Bethesda

I heard him cry toward

Each of the five porticos.

And you should know

When he cries

He cries like a herd of children.

This thug of love

His leathered ears hanging on

Like medals pinned

On the head of old wars

Suddenly revived and baptized

NO!

Cleansed and refashioned

In the reddened wells

Of faith, hope and love.

So, peddling and prowling he goes

Down lonely city streets

With his reborn ears

As soft as cream

Searching the echoes

Measuring the vibrations

Or grinning and thinking

About pattering up and

Wrapping around Liz Ann

The way a warm rain

Wraps and makes you laugh

Saying “It’s me

Me and It’s okay hmmmn

It’s okay…it’s me hmnnn.”

And they settle

Like two polished stones

Sunk down to pool’s bottom

Just off the Loveshack.

” Christopher!” Rod would say

” This is the part of the poem

Where you’re supposed to teach

Something.”

Rod would say that.

” Christopher!…You are a

Wonderful teacher!”

[SLAM! SLAM! like thick lumber and syrup]

And he’s right

It’s not like I’m the first one to interrupt a poem

Or be interrupted by life

Or by Life Himself!

But

Thank God we’ve been interrupted

And you have been interrupted

And God has interrupted us

And His interruption is always

Himself.

So

At the end of most weddings

We look to the bride and groom

And want them to be

All we were once

Meant to be.

I tell you this …

(This is the teaching part)

They are now

All YOU are still meant to be…

Beloved and betrothed

Spoken to and spoken for

Given and taken at

A great marriage feast.

Well

Then watch this remarkable woman

Watch this chosen man

Like those outside of time

Aiming to become Jesus

Metaphors infleshed.

But

When you look on them

Who are now married

The holy dancing laughter

Will infect you

The redemption will swirl and sing

With figures both named

And unnamable

Both here

And yet to come.

Pay attention.

Pay Attention.

Here’s to the Bride and Groom!

___________________________

And often, this is why people stop attending church, or are disgusted and detest preachers on television. I cannot say I blame them for an instant. Seems like a sane response if there are no alternatives.

My roommate was messing with me last night and had control of the cable channels. She kept flipping from the Yankees winning (groans) to this televangelist jackass who I knew was eventually gonna start talking about MONEY (groans louder).

I suppose I shouldn’t allow it to upset me any more than I should expect the Gecko to stop selling me car insurance (I like the Eckhart Tolle/Progressive girl “Flo” better); J.G. Wentworth to stop yelling that it’s my money; or Burger King to come on and start talking about anything but flame-broiled double cheeseburgers for a buck.

But it does. And she knows this and says “I’ll bet you have to write about this tomorrow”.

Well I do and I don’t. Why don’t I share a poem with you that not only addresses the deeper issue of cultural self-absorption, but also the reality (not speculation) that outside this autonomous mess that we continue to concoct,  perpetuate and even imagine is meaningful, there is LIFE outside of  religion, money, media and personal preoccupations. In fact, it may just be sitting beside you quietly waiting.

All About Us

It was a choice made very early on (perhaps from the foundations of Creation).

Sean (or Luke) at age 2.

Friend Luke wrote me at Examiner.com (which is feeling like a waste of time because the CMS works as well as a colander does to prepare cake mix).

After an hour or two and its utter failure to print what I finished I was able to retain this:

Reader Luke writes:

I might be still back in a different conversation at this point, but no matter. I’m less interested in whether hell is literal, I at least don’t think the metaphor is arbitrary. I think the metaphor for heaven signifies something real and experienced and I think the same is true for descriptions of hell. Not enough characters to flesh this out.

Really though, I don’t care about this part of the conversation as much. All of this talk about the meaning of sin and hell and heaven is tertiary to me, important but right now it feel distracting. The crux of my question is this:

Why did Jesus have to die?

[Author's note: I have known Luke since he was my eldest son's age. In fact, they looked so much alike that after church sometimes we came home with Luke instead of Sean and so did Luke's parents.  Seriously though, both young men have significant "guns" when it comes to theology. Last time I was in SoCal my eldest "schooled me" big time.  It was an oddly satisfying experience. I suppose I feel the same way about Luke... unless Luke has always been who I assume Sean was....hmnnn...naw...Sean has his mom's eyes).

After writing on the issue of hell I felt similarly Luke. Good word: tertiary.

It seemed to me like exploring what might happen once the Titanic would sink (hours later) rather than focusing on rescue.  A bad use of time.

Well, it would seem that Jesus did not have to die. It was a decision made (according to some bible scholars) as early or evidenced by the rather obscure declaration made at the time Adam and Eve were confronted with their decision to choose experiential knowledge of good and evil (we would call it autonomy and other things now) as chronicled in Genesis chapter 3. Some point to v. 15 (but the entire chewing out should be read for context) as the first declaration that God has some plan to redeem what has been lost…which is, (gulps), us.

(See the late Chris Farley doing his interview show where he starts tearing at his hair after a dumb question and cursing himself.)

Jesus did not have to die. Jesus choose to die. And unlike so many,  Jesus seems a little more aware of the reality of death than we do.  You might think that Jesus’ knowledge of God, His power and promise of resurrection would make it a cake walk. Read the account of Jesus n the Garden of Gethsemane. Nothing could be farther from the truth.

Luke, I can give you legal answers and old logical ones that have become almost meaningless given their trite overuse. Living in the South now (firm Bible belt) I doubt that there is hardly anyone here who could not explain why Jesus had to die for our sins. Whether they actually believe that it makes a differences in their life is debateable.

The Gospel of John gives us the most intimate information about Jesus’ relationship with The Father. Without that Gospel, we would hardly know a thing (my apologies to the other three). If you wanna know why Jesus had to die, then I suggest you read Jesus’ prayer in chapter 17 and meditate on what he, in his heart, wants and is asking for.

It seems that the only way to make this prayer a reality is for the issue of justice to be addressed with flesh and blood.

We all know this. After 9/11, Liberal Democrats like myself and Right wing Conservatives all seemed of some accord on a response (a bloody one) to such injustice. Other countries feel this way about us and how we use them, and even kill them for no reason except greed.

There is an old Proverb (it is actually in Proverbs) where “Loving kindness and truth” shall be bound around our necks. The physical image from the Hebrew text is of  both being imprinted into the soft clay of our hearts….like God’s heart ion a way.

So, put simply, Jesus chose to die for the sake of both love and truth. For justice and also for mercy. And let’s face it, it’s not theological at all. If Jesus’ death is not personal for me…if I see that as a “nice gesture” for others then it has little real effect for or in me. It is only when I admit that I am the one who deserves real justice be measured out for my actions in life and that I deserve the sentence of a fair judge (things do not look at all well at this point by the way) that Jesus’ reasons to die “for me” begin to make simple sense: love. A love fully human, and a love fully Divine.

Sorry about the response restrictions at Examiner.com. If you have a longer response, you can send it to me and I can choose to reprint it in full . I am about to reprint an analysis of Chris Studer’s reflection on the book The Shack, not only because I am lazy, but his analysis is better than mine would be. Does he approve? I dunno…I left him a note deep on his Facebook page that he’ll probably never see…but I can say I did try.

Yes, I am shameless. But then, you know Sean…unless you are Sean and he is you…oh dear…

Marshall Boatworks, Tomales Bay by Marcy Lenhardt. 11" x 14" water based oils on panel. (click on painting for link)

This story is about a man caught between two worlds. On the one hand, he is very much a product of Modern and Postmodern culture. On the other hand, he is oddly out-of-place and seemingly suited for a different age and more comfortable in a seaside town that I would estimate must have been around the mid 1930s, say 1935.

I say estimate, because it was a dream that I just had, and so this is a story my subconscious made up, not myself consciously. Don’t drop it for that reason. The story is not about me (you know my rules…and if not, then read them above in “What is SPOKE”).

I drove my old truck up to a weathered  house along the main road on the East side of Tomales Bay. It must have been lunchtime. I surmised it was the 1930s not just because of their dress ( a few men had on suits of the time, and the women were rather frocky) but the telephones were the type that had to be cranked up in order to work. They had a room to “let”

The men at lunch were concerned. They had two servants, but of the practical, almost family variety. The matriarch of the family made her money by growing, and then selling her most beautiful hair. She herself then wore a wig of much lesser quality but did not seem to mind. Though in her late 50s, her beautiful hair was still recognized as a major gift to the household economy and to others who would enjoy her hair elsewhere.

The meal was sparse, but I was of course,  invited.  I listened as they discussed their situation not in anxious terms, but practical. I was a part of those plans, no doubt, though others had visited and inquired about the room. Still, from the very beginning, nothing was withheld or “show”. There was no “reality” behind the outward actions and talk.  I was watching life as they lived it each day.

When the meal was over, the men were off after giving their wives a peck on the cheek and a smile. The business of the household was purely their realm and whatever these two women decided to do was utterly trusted and up to their wisdom.

I offered to help with the dishes, which I realized, half the way through, I did not really know much about given their system of using and conserving  fresh water. I was washing them just as badly as I would today. They offered no instruction or comment.

Afterwords, we sat and I told them that I was thinking of leaving my high-tech job and pursuing my writing full-time. This did not phase them at all (not even that it was from Internet work). I mentioned that one of my sites had garnered a Webby nomination and explained it was a lot like being nominated for an Oscar, or an Emmy. They looked pleased the way people do when you say you had a nice round of golf.  Strangely, this pleased me and I decided at that moment that nothing I had done of any “recognition” in my life thus far really meant anything. Not here. And I did not care at all.

I asked to use the phone, cranked it up and called a man who lived a few miles down the road to talk with him about purchasing an old camera. I was supposed to meet with him at 3 p.m. and it was already twenty to four. I apologized, but he said “come whenever you are ready”.

It was perhaps at that moment, or maybe later, when I went outside and down the steep steps to the truck and I heard one of the women say “well, his little girl is going to have a time with those stairs” that I realized I wanted to live there.

I was alone and in this dream my only ideas were writing, being a neighbor, walking along the bay, and visiting with other families. That and the thought of future visits, enjoying my two youngest children in the cool sea air and the simplicity that can really, for me, only be found near an ocean.

I told the two women, before I left, that I wanted the room. I asked if it was okay that I watched 49er football on the television on Sundays and they said it was fine so long as I did so in my room. Later, outside again and getting into my old truck I heard one say “Oh, I am glad it was him who decided to take the room.” I would be very welcome.

The rest of the house was full of peace, quiet, and a dignified (but relaxed) industry – a sort of quiet “music” that I cannot describe with words. I wouldn’t have wanted to watch football and yell anywhere but in my room.

Outside, all of the best aspects of life by a bay or the ocean were present. Sand-blasted railings, clear blue skies, light wind, the patterned ripples on the bay water, which was across the street and down the green hills.

I did not miss anything of my old life. In fact it was irrelevant. I just wanted to live in quiet community, work with my hands or write my stories and essays and then play or walk with Adam and Camille down in to town. Adam would, no doubt, be  hit on by some of the young girls working in town shops with his friendly charm and disarming smile. Camille, like myself, would be looking at crafts, art and exploring things.

End of Story/dream.

What has any of this to do with Jesus the Center?  He is not pre- or post-figured or metaphorically injected anywhere. Only an idiot would start looking for symbols like crank-phones, selling of hair, or the washing of dishes. The time period is also irrelevant for the most part. In a few years the war would come. The young men, perhaps even Adam, would feel the urge to fight a known evil having no idea how costly that would be.

But this was before that time and after the Great Depression.  To be sure, its mark was still present, but it no longer ruled all of life like a dark specter.

No, Jesus was nowhere to be seen and yet everywhere. The civility, warmth (without agendas), honesty, simplicity and harmony with nature was everywhere evident.  Unlike sophomoric ideas of heaven (if it was supposed to be that) there was much to do. Creating, gifts of craft, walking and discussions, art, meals together without any hints of  duplicity, but instead seasoned with humility, generosity and good humor.

And always the hint of this light music, almost Classical, but not. Almost like Jazz, but not. Light and present… more like  a scent than something solely audible. A kind of music or scent that was devoid of anxiety of any kind, yet also free. More free than the decisions we now make because in this freedom everything was “unmixed”.

Tomales Bay at Midnight, by Christopher Carl MacDonald. 24" x 36" oil on canvas (this is a cropped image. Click on image to see author's other paintings)

I could drive 1000 yards past town and visit the man selling the camera, stay for a talk out on his deck for a time; or I could return more quickly, pay my deposit and ask to stay the night (I would not be refused…not possible) and sit  most of the night typing on an old keyboard with fresh paper with the two triangular windows of my loft/ bedroom wide open in front of my desk, the smell off the water and the moon gleaming off those very same indentations in the bay I had seen in daylight.

I could choose to write my daughter a story, or a simple letter to put in the post the next day in town. Or I could paint a picture of Adam sitting on a sand dune with his girlfriend (or one of them) to give him when he visited.  They would like it here too.

I suppose the point was my (or our) freedom was not a “freedom from…”, which is all we humans seem to struggle with individually, nationally and in all other ways now. Instead it was a  “freedom to…”

And that is why I knew the dream and this story was not, is not, really about me at all. Only the One “in Whom, through Whom, and for Whom” we are created can bring such a peace that its music is more like a scent or aroma pleasing to God and humanity. And only such a  One can take us from a “freedom from…” to a true “freedom to…”

I was free to do any of the above or so many other things and feel God’s pleasure in that freedom. Not freedom from, but freedom to.

____________________

Author’s note:

Of course the Gospels are essentially narratives. True, they are narratives with a purpose and design (not just straight history or reporting) for various audiences, but they are views of The Story, of which we are all a living part.

Much of our perpetual confusion, or mine, is in not first understanding the larger story as fully as we might; then the stories that the Master storyteller Himself told; then how this Living One now wishes to continue the Grand Story that He, the Spirit and the Father have had in mind, love and grace all along. Oh, and don’t forget the word “intent” for it is clearly their good intentions to bring this long first narrative to a close only to begin another one in which we will, do doubt, be less confused, and feel more directly a part of.

The difference between the story I just told you, and the one I speak of above, is that it is fiction. Other than stated pieces of fiction like parables, poetry and other types of literature like “apocalyptic” literature and a few others, most of the Bible  is narrative and meant to be read as history, or an “accounting” of various acts of God, angels, the “Adversary” (Devil, Shithead, whatever) , people, and occasionally animals (no doubt some of yesterday’s sermons throughout the world would have been better delivered by Balaam’s ass).

1. I wish you would be patient with me even when I am a little foolish, but you are already doing that.² I am jealous over you with a jealousy that comes from God. I promised to give you to Christ, as your only husband. I want to give you as his pure bride.³ But I am afraid that your minds will be led away from your true and pure following of Christ just as Eve was tricked by the snake with his evil ways.”  (New Century Version).

There are so many ways that people (preachers) can take this passage, most usually a long series on the deceptive wiles of the serpent on Eve and how to avoid them. Or the nature of Paul’s fear of the “different Jesus’” presented to the Corinthians (or to us).

All fine and good.

But let’s not miss the desire of Paul’s heart and his positive directive!

Paul admits he is “jealous” with Gods’ jealousy. We know this is a constant throughout the whole of the Bible…that God sees infidelity to Himself as a constant problem and a heartache for all parties including God’s own self. We also know that the biblical depiction of Christ and the Church is predominantly that of Bride and Bridegroom, and that human marriage is meant to be a flat snapshot of the reality of the True Marriage between God (in Christ) and His redeemed Bride.

And this jealousy that Paul’s feels from God Himself,  is for what exactly?

He states it “to present you as a pure bride” filled with “simple and pure devotion to Christ” (NASB is better).

We spend so much time on what might derail this simple and pure devotion as Christ’s Bride that we never ask (or I don’t, do you?):

“What does it mean for me to daily express simple and pure devotion to Christ my true Husband”?

That is Paul stated intent, and he is jealous, like God, for just that. Like any father (I have one daughter) I want her to have the best Bridegroom (a done deal with Christ) and for her to be the best Bride to her young man.

Now it is here we, perhaps, see some of what Paul calls his “foolishness”. The kind of simple and pure devotion a bride show hers husband is just a snapshot at best..in this case  “fidelity”.

I can tell you from painful experience there are few things worse or more painful than infidelity just in human to human terms. Adultery robbed me of probably, um, just a few decades of my life. It actually, in the final analysis, hurts the adulterous one (me) far more than the betrayed spouse. In fact, in my case, my ex-wife, decades later said to me “you know, it’s okay to drop it. I forgive you. Move on.”

God is a lot like that, only God, as our Father, and Christ as our Husband knows that we are most ourselves when we have simple and pure devotion to our True Husband.

But here is my question: What does that mean?

“Simple and pure devotion” is hardly just the absence of infidelity? It would seem that we, the Modern Church would take it only that far. Is this marriage between Christ and His Church really just about not “cheating” on Him?

Big whoopty-do!

If I was married and in the five minutes I spent with my wife daily she assured me only that “dear, I did not sleep around on you today” …well that would just be fun wouldn’t it?

Well. frankly, I have no answer for you. Maybe my core goal of wanting to do SPOKE (and I wanted to do this 7 years ago) is to discover what it means to have “simple and pure” devotion to Him. To stop all this talk about US (Lord we can go on!)

Because after 30 plus years of “marriage” to Him I am still not sure what that means today. I know what it does not mean. Real clear in that (though I cannot seem to get that right either).

So what dos it mean for you and I, as His Bride to express simple (note that…simple) and pure devotion to Him?

It’s not going to lead you to “works-righteousness” or even having the “right ideas” about your Husband (though Paul implies that you wanna avoid being tricked away from your true spouse).

I am not in any danger of being deceived into accepting “another Jesus”. I am not bragging, I just know too much. But I can whore after other things as good as anyone.

God is a “jealous God” but that is a good and loving thing.  Would you want your significant other to be apathetic while other men or women tried to seduce you? Would you feel valued and loved?

But again, this, like SPOKE, is not about US.

I am so sick of my own whining, excuses, diversions and internal narcissism…or worse, attempts to get others to love ME, rather than how my heart is going to be changed to simply love Jesus and be devoted to him with my heart.

So I leave you with Paul’s desire, given by a Loving Father: “I promised to give you to Christ, as your only husband. I want to give you as a pure bride. But I am afraid that your minds may be led astray from simple and pure devotion to Christ.”

Ponder and pray for our gracious God and Father that, by His Spirit, He will reveal to us what this means and place it in our hearts, and not just fill our minds with correct “doctrine” (as important as that is).

~Bakdon

Nick Cave

Note to your left added videos: one  a performance of Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds, the other and interview where Cave talks about religion, Jesus and spirituality.

Often we think that we have to immediately agree or disagree with people and their view of Jesus. That gets us, and them, nowhere.  It all too often assumes we “know” in full, and they “in part” when not even Paul could say that for himself (exactly the opposite).

Listen to Nobody’s Baby Now. It’s a sweet yet haunted song.

The lyrics :

I’ve searched the holy books
I tried to unravel the mystery of Jesus Christ, the saviour
I’ve read the poets and the analysts
Searched through the books on human behaviour
I travelled this world around
For an answer that refused to be found
I don’t know why and I don’t know how
But she’s nobody’s baby now

I loved her then and I guess I love her still
Hers is the face I see when a certain mood moves in
She lives in my blood and skin
Her wild feral stare, her dark hair
Her winter lips as cold as stone
Yeah, I was her man
But there are some things love won’t allow
I held her hand but I don’t hold it now
I don’t know why and I don’t know how
But she’s nobody’s baby now

This is her dress that I loved best
With the blue quilted violets across the breast
And these are my many letters
Torn to pieces by her long-fingered hand
I was her cruel-hearted man
And though I’ve tried to lay her ghost down
She’s moving through me, even now
I don’t know why and I don’t know how
But she’s nobody’s baby now
She’s nobody’s baby now
Nobody’s baby now
She’s nobody’s baby now

Cave gets the incomprehensibility of God, just as it is with male -female relationships. It is not cynical. It’s a chronicle. Love songs and poem reflect the same…heartbreak, disappointment, expectations, joy, sadness, loss, connection, longing, intimacy, hunger…the list goes on but fits both relationships.

People take shots at organized religion all day long, and I join them.  But rarely at Jesus unless to deny His existence at all (convenient) or to insist that His words were altered by the Catholic Church sometime after it was joined with power via Constantine (a patent historical falsehood since we have manuscript copies going back to within 30 years of the original autographs of some texts).

Others have labeled me a “poet” I say this because my second wife made the astute point once that you really aren’t a poet or an artist until others recognize that inherent giftedness.

True.

JESUS POEMS

But there are good images and SPOKE is one of them. As a noun it is a part of a wheel of some sort (or rarely used of ladders). As a verb it is an action of speech needing filling with content (“or has always been” he spoke to his audience). Dictionary.com ref

I like both images/ideas together when it comes to Christ who is at the Center, or “hub” of all of God’s activity in the world; and is also described as the agent through Whom the universe was “spoken” into existence.

For today, let’s look at the easier of the two: the spokes of a wheel which (most often now) are a matrix of tensile wires that support that wheel which provides transportation somewhere.

The desire for some kind of “homogenization” (think of the point as “moo”) within the Church at large misses St. Paul’s teachings in his letter to the Corinthians (chapter 12, I believe…just before LOVE).

Thisis not a call to be a part of a homogenized “Christian” sub-culture (are you in or out of our club?) but admits, no encourages, that diversity of the gifts, callings and abilities that will all bring glory to Christ no matter how overtly they simplistically seem “opposed”. While not using the metaphor of the wheel, (Paul is more organic..using ‘The Body”…which is, of course, better), it can help us in a few limited ways today with all of our denominational nonsense.

Put simply, the hub or Center is always Christ. That is clear. If you want to put anything else as central your wheel will never work. You can place your own desired “hub” out near the rim where it you feel it belongs and build from there. Good luck getting very far on those wheels.

No, the hub or center must be the strongest and be able to connect to all the places around the rim. Those places are what and where most of us inhabit or are called. Feeding the poor, social justice, language studies, gifts of kindness, evangelism, worship gifts of many varieties, missionary work, medical ministries, counseling, preaching, teaching, healing, ministries of presence, hospice care, academia, archaeology, singing, songwriting, intellectual pursuits, the arts, science…these are just a few.

That they often look opposed is only the illusion of distance because they may be on the other side of the rim.

The core matter is to focus on the HUB, which is Christ Jesus Himself, the Living One. Only He has the strength to bear all of those connections coming into Himself and to make each relevant to Himself, bear the weight of each in Himself and give strength out from Himself.

I can be overly abstract at times. This is not one of those times.

Tomorrow…the harder issue of the “Word Spoken”  (oh Lord, perhaps I shall be hit by a bus or something in the meanwhile…may it be large and speedy).

~BakDon out