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Friday, September 10, 2010

Eternal Creatures

My family and I went camping over Labor Day weekend about a month ago. One of the things I adore about camping is that zero requirements exist on your time, with the exception of eating. This allows for copious napping and time to just sit and think without a cloud of uselessness hanging over your head, because there is absolutely nothing requiring you to be useful. During one of these sessions, I started to think about Heaven. Not because the smoke currently bombarding my face reminded me of Heaven at all, but merely because I had been thinking about it lately.
It had struck me that we cannot hope for something we have not tasted. I am currently reading When I Don't Desire God by John Piper and he had been talking about desire and hope. With this thought then, we cannot hope for Heaven if we have not already tasted of it. Obviously, none of us has died, experienced Heaven, and then resurrected in order that we may hope for Heaven. This would make no sense whatsoever. The only other option, then, is that we experience some of Heaven on earth.
This is the idea I was mulling over while freezing in front of a Saturday morning fire which hadn't quite got up to size yet. At what points do we catch glimpses of Heaven? What are the necessary factors? And how do we even know enough about what Heaven is like to be able to see something that sparks recognition of it and causes yearning? We have all, at some point or another, probably experienced something that made us say, "That was a little bit of Heaven." I'm sure some of those times that particular statement has also stemmed from the somewhat obnoxious habit of exaggeration, or from another tendency people have to over-use phrases so they no longer have a special meaning anymore. Other times, though, it really is a foretaste of Heaven.
For fear of pinning down to a science something that I'm not sure should necessarily be understood, I don't want to lay claim to knowing when, where, or how God's children can experience those foretaste's of Heaven. Often I think they come and go so fast, because they are marred by our sin. Maybe the most obvious way is through what we read in Scripture. Images of streets of gold and jewel-studded gates inhabit our minds as something we could only dream about, but that the Bible says awaits us. I cannot help but think, however, that our finite minds have limited our ideas of Heaven to poor human images. It seems almost shameful to merely think of Heaven in terms of material riches, for if God can do far more beyond what we can ask or imagine, why would Heaven be merely the jeweled city in our minds? What makes me hopeful is the idea that Heaven is perfection, it is everything purely as God meant it to be. "Nothing impure will ever enter it [Heaven], nor will anyone who does what is shameful or deceitful, but only those whose names are written in the Lamb's book of life." (Revelation 21:27
I’m just finishing up a book called A Severe Mercy, and towards the end of it the main character is reflecting on the nature of time and why we always seem to be so harried by it.

“Then, if we complain of time and take such joy in the seemingly timeless moment, what does that suggest?

It suggests that we have not always been or will not always be purely temporal creatures. It suggests that we were created for eternity. Not only are we harried by time, we seem unable, despite a thousand generations, even to get used to it. We are always amazed at it- how fast it goes, how slowly it goes, how much of it is gone. Where, we cry, has the time gone? We aren’t adapted to it, not at home in it, if that is so, it may appear as a proof, or at least a powerful suggestion, that eternity exists and is our home.” (203)

Mr. Vanauken states it better than I could’ve ever done: we are made for Heaven, and therefore we long for it- all be it sometimes unknowingly. Here I will stop, all my words seeming superfluous next to his, with this one statement (again, not my words): “Therefore, since we have such a hope (in Heaven) we are very bold.” 2 Corinthians 3:12


Thursday, September 9, 2010

Tracing the Sunbeam

Today is Thursday. I usually prefer to post on Tuesdays, or Wednesdays depending on the week. This week, however, I arrived to Tuesday and I didn't have anything to write about. At least not anything prepared, and trust me, you don't want to read my stuff until it's prepared. So I have decided to expand on the purpose of this blog.
As mentioned in the nebulous "about me" section, I just started my freshman year of college. I came from a summer of staffing for a leadership camp in the South East of the US, and gained a lot of knowledge about the lengths to which God can stretch His children. Upon my return, I began to realize that through this sanctification process, God was showing me how abundantly full life can be. That that's how it was meant to be (John 10:10). Of course, I wanted to know how this looked practically. I wanted to know how I was supposed to live this life abundant and how I was to pursue it. So I started asking questions.
I am currently sitting in a very busy coffee shop in St. Helena, a town devoted solely to wine, specialty food shops, and consignment clothing boutiques. Driving from Napa, I watched the fog and mist lift to reveal the vineyard-surrounded hills on either side of the road. It is seriously one of the most beautiful drives in the world. In a couple minutes I have my second class of the day, English 120, and then I get to go home and do homework. This is my life- 4 hours of it anyway. And it is here where I ponder the relevance of an abundant life. How does this promise fit into Econ homework, breaks in coffee shops, and drives that leave me wondering how long this tank of gas will last?
As best as I can figure it, we are called to have joy in these day-to-day occurrences. Yes, it's easy to take joy in the big events we like to classify as "life:" births, weddings, anniversaries, deaths,- and on and on it goes. It's the rest of it that makes up our lives, though. The dishes, school, errands, work, conversations. How we react to this daily life is up to us. If we take joy in the object/activity alone, we are forgetting our Maker and simply enjoying the pleasures of this world. However, when we trace that joy back to Christ and put it in Him, we reflect Him. Our joy is no longer in the quickly fading, but in the Eternal.
This is why my blog exists. Because too often I take joy in the fading things of life without remembering exactly that: they fade. It's when I write and share things with people, whether it's a conversation, an email, or a blog, that I fully consider all that God has given and done. As corny as it may sound, it's true. God has given His children so many riches to explore in Himself and has granted us an abundance of ways to do that. Here I am then, practicing tracing "back up the sunbeam to the sun."*

*C.S. Lewis

Wednesday, September 1, 2010

Too Many Lists

I like to do things. I'm the type of person that creates and accomplishes a to-do list solely so I can cross tasks off and have a visible, tangible reminder of what I have done. I have a planner because it makes me feel organized. I have a file box for warranties and car registration and stuff like that because mom told me to. (And if I didn't, all that important paperwork would get lost!). I create color-coordinated schedules for school days, even if I rarely follow them. All this 'organization' is for the mere purpose of making me feel like a diligent, organzied, and studious person, when, in fact I am just the opposite: I procrastinate, I'm always looking for things because of the chaotic state of my room, and I would much rather watch Beverly Hills 90210 than do Economics homework. May I have points for honesty?
I would also rather say, "I am glorifying God," than, "I am loving God." While it is by no means wrong to desire to glorify God, I had it pointed out to me that it's my way of saying, "I like to do things so I can be better loved by God." The desire to be righteous in order to better my standing with God sneaks in all too frequently. Too often I find myself masking my self-righteousness and desire for self-sufficiency with the desire to bring glory to God. The only problem is I can't 'bring' anything, but what He has already given me.
In light of all this, I am asking God for the ability to love. Again, this poses the danger of becoming yet another to-do that I check off my "Ways to be Righteous" list, but that is why I am praying for love. Not that I may have such-and-such an attitude to accomplish this-and-that task, but that I may love. From love stems the desire to bring pleasure to the object of that love.
The line, "love don't come easy," from the Supremes' "Can't Hurry Love" is currently stuck on repeat in my mind. (My Pandora station is rigged, the song has already played twice in two hours.) Am I supposed to fight to love God? John Piper wrote, " Most fighting is not good because it is a proud attempt to prove our own strength at someone else's expense. But the fight for joy is just the opposite. It's a way of saying that we are weak and desperately in need the mercy of God." My fight for joy also encompasses my fight for love. Or maybe it's the other way around? Either way, I cannot take joy in someone I do not love, and I cannot love someone without joy. Therefore, I pursue joy and love, and joy in loving, and loving joy in Christ.
None of this pursuit is accomplished by my ability. Everything I have and can give has already been given to me. I can only love because I was loved first, I can only be joyful because Christ loves and takes delight in me. So as I pursue these, it is only by Christ's might. "It does not, therefore, depend on man's desire or effort, but on God's mercy." (Romans 9:16) By God's mercy, I have already been given all I need: life. Through His mercy, I can pursue this gift with all joy and participate in it with all joy. And because of His mercy, I hope to learn to love.