Eschatology of Hope 08-31-15

A presentation of an eschatology of hope can begin with the text of Scripture itself. One of the clearest statements about God’s future for creation is in Romans 8: “For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the children of God; for the creation was subjected to futility, not of its own will but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to decay and will obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God. We know that the whole creation has been groaning in labor pains until now; and not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly while we wait for adoption, the redemption of our bodies. For in hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what is seen? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.” (Romans 8:19-25)

Here Paul depicts the entire creation groaning in agony, subject to futility, and literally rotting in the results of sin. But Paul also says the same creation also lives in hope, “hope that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to decay and obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God.”

We all live together in this hope of redemption, not just of our spirits or souls, but of our bodies. The entire physical creation is being redeemed and renewed by God and this is our hope. The Spirit of God is the down payment on this future redemption. So, we, along with the creation, wait in patience.

In contrast to an eschatology of escape or annihilation, the Bible pictures not so much a new earth as a renewed earth. God is renewing His creation. One of the factors that contributes to this confusion is the passage from 2 Peter 3:10 quoted above. What we often forget to consider is the different ways that fire functions. Fire is useful in purification, not just annihilation. (As a matter of fact, pur is the Greek for “fire.”) We often see the destructive role of fire rather than the purifying role of fire. But consider this passage from the same Bible author: “These have come so that your faith—of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire—may be proved genuine and may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed.” (1 Peter 1:7)

Here, the fire of God purifies and cleanses rather than destroys. Dross is burned up, the pure gold remains. This is more consistent with the whole narrative of God’s work to reconcile all creation to Himself.

The important point to notice is that this vision of the future—this eschatology of hope—still involves a power outside of ourselves. It is God’s fire. The question is not whether or not God will intervene in human history to fully accomplish His purpose. The question is what kind of action will God take in human affairs? The answer that Scripture presents is one of restoration, reconciliation, repair and healing. These concepts are the opposite of wanton destruction and annihilation. Nevertheless, some things are consumed by the fire. The part that is not gold, the part that is not consistent with God’s good and peaceful kingdom, will perish in order that God’s good creation can be restored.

The practical result of this is two-fold. On the one hand, we cannot disregard the world as something disposable, something that will perish anyway. Keeping our eye on the beginning of the story we remember that God created a good world. His good creation has been corrupted and abused and, according to Paul’s statement above, held in “bondage to decay.” But it is good nonetheless and God is intent on restoring it. On the other hand, we cannot fix what is wrong with God’s creation ourselves. It will take power outside of human effort to accomplish God’s redemption. It is this tension that is the heart of Adventist eschatology. The world is not disposable, like a used-up bag from which the important contents have been removed. But neither is the human race ultimately capable of a final solution to sin and decay. We act today in harmony with that which we believe, our hope. We act in hope now, knowing that God will complete God’s work of healing His creation. From a human perspective then, we neither take ourselves too seriously (reasoning that we are the answer and that ours is the moment in history) nor do we disregard our role in God’s work (reasoning that God will do whatever God will do, and we are free to pursue our own selfish gain). Instead, we are enlisted, as citizens of God’s kingdom, to do now what we anticipate. We are invited to act now in hope, witnessing to the world that will one day be here in fullness.

This tension is sometimes expressed as the “now and not yet” nature of God’s kingdom. This language—“now and not yet”—arises from the fact that some Scripture speaks as though the kingdom is present now. Other passages speak of God’s kingdom as something off in the future. One helpful way of looking at this apparent paradox while doing justice to the whole narrative is that Jesus, particularly by His resurrection, inaugurated a new age that has yet to come fully to fruition. Jesus’ resurrection, in other words, marks the beginning of the end (goal, purpose toward which history is moving) but we still look forward to the end of the end. So we see signs of God’s kingdom all around us. The Bible writers are careful to say that the kingdom is “at hand,” never “in hand.” We don’t have the kingdom. Nor can we “bring in the kingdom” by our own strength or organizational abilities. Rather we are called to enter and serve God’s kingdom and in so doing bear witness to the way the whole world will one day be.

To close this section on the eschatology of escape vs. the eschatology of hope, we should note one very important point, which highlights why the subject of eschatology is so important. It is this: if we get the end of the story mixed up, we won’t know how to live in the story now. How we enter the narrative of God’s redemption today depends on where we think this story is going. Eschatology is a conversation about understanding the end of the story. So, even though eschatology is the study of end times, it is really a matter of first importance.

Eschatology of Escape 08-28-15

Yesterday we suggest there are two streams of Christian Eschatology (Blog 08-27-15). In the first category are all those views that are more or less rooted in a fundamental assumption that the world as we know it today is completely discontinuous with the world as it will be when the Kingdom of God is fully restored. It is, in the words of N. T. Wright, “a different world altogether, a world where we really belong, where everything is indeed put to rights, a world into which we can escape in our dreams in the present and hope to escape one day for good—but a world which has little purchase on the present world except that people who live in this one sometimes find themselves dreaming of that one.” (Wright 2006, p. 9)

This view seems to be supported by texts such as 2 Peter 3:10: “But the day of the Lord will come like a thief. The heavens will disappear with a roar; the elements will be destroyed by fire, and the earth and everything in it will be laid bare.”

This view is built on a binary assumption that posits a bad world and a good heaven, which drains away all the theological motivation for making the world we actually live in a better place. Why “do justice and love mercy” (Micah 6:8) if the world as we know it is going to perish completely and be abandoned for a place called heaven? The only answer that can be given from within this paradigm is that these actions will hopefully be useful in persuading a person to make certain theological commitments so they, too, can escape to heaven.

Secular and religious people today have an internal compulsion to do good in the world. Most of us know the world is not as it should be. Most of us feel a desire to “do something” to make people’s lives more livable. With millions and millions of people ravaged by curable and manageable disease, senseless wars, and lack of access to the basic necessities of life, and with our very planet being threatened by environmental decay, there is a calling within a person’s very being to do right in the world. (More about this below.)

But if the world and all that is in it is going to perish, then what motivation do we have to work for good in the world? Indeed, many in our society see Christians as part of the problem precisely because of their eschatological commitments. Yale theologian Miroslav Volf writes, “Belief in the eschatological annihilation and responsible social involvement are logically compatible. But they are theologically inconsistent. The expectation of the eschatological destruction of the world is not consonant with the belief in the goodness of creation: what God will annihilate must either be so bad that it is not possible to be redeemed or so insignificant that it is not worth being redeemed. It is hard to believe in the intrinsic value and goodness of something that God will completely annihilate. And without a theologically grounded belief in the intrinsic value and goodness of creation, positive cultural involvement hangs theologically in air. Hence Christians who await the destruction of the world (and conveniently refuse to live a schizophrenic life) shy away as a rule - out of theological, not logical, consistency - from social and cultural involvement. Under the presupposition that the world is not intrinsically good, the only theologically plausible justification for cultural involvement would be that such involvement diminishes the suffering of the body and contributes to the good of the soul (either by making evangelism possible or by fostering sanctification). Comfort, skill, or beauty - whether it is the beauty of the human body or of some other object - could have no more intrinsic value than does the body itself; they could be merely a means to some spiritual end. (Volf, pgs 90-91; emphasis in original)

A certain view of the eschatology known as dispensationalism, including theories of the rapture, have been thrust into the public consciousness due to the incredibly popular Left Behind novels. In some cases this has given rise to Christian Zionism. Most nonbelievers do not realize that this approach is a minority opinion among Christians. Most Christians do not believe in dispensationalism.

As N. T. Wright points out in his most recent book, Surprised by Hope, the idea of “going to heaven” as the final destination of the redeemed is an invention of medieval theology, supported by a variety of modern theories. The Bible teaches that the earth is our home. In fact the Bible states that the earth will be God’s home as well (Revelation 21:1-4). It is in this sense that eschatology with an emphasis on “going to heaven” and escaping this evil world makes a crucial mistake. Our final home is not heaven, but earth. And God is not ultimately destroying the earth, but restoring and renewing it. The fact is that the Biblical narrative is a story of redemption and restoration.

Two Streams of Christian Eschatology 08-27-15

Here we consider eschatology in the most basic sense, as it would relate to a person who is not (yet) a follower of Jesus. That is, the person you are conversing with has not made any commitment to follow Christ. Therefore the approach will be specifically directed toward that kind of spiritual seeker. While we will discuss specific theological categories to provide background information, it is not necessary for you to pass this information on to your conversation partner or group.

The subject of eschatology is a touchy one and you will need to tread lightly. Especially in the United States, the subject of eschatology has been deeply politicized. Views about end time events have become the subject of foreign policy debates. This should not really be a surprising development. It might even be said that all wars have been fought over competing views of eschatology, especially if eschatology can be broadened to its secular sense. That is, all wars are fought over competing visions of “the end of humanity” or the purpose or destiny to which humanity is or should be moving.

Because of the current social and political environment, especially in North America, many nonbelievers are very skeptical about grand visions of the end of the world, especially as those visions entail widespread destruction and bloodshed. There skepticism is not a bad thing. Many of the views widely published are not what God has in mind. Postmodern people in particular need a different way to come at a conversation about “ends,” or the destiny toward which humanity is moving. Many people will no doubt have images of world-wide destruction in their mind when they hear about end-times because some Christians have for so long spoken in those terms. Many people wonder, “If God loves the world so much, why is He so bent on destroying it?”

In order to broaden the conversation about eschatology, especially for the person who is not committed to following Jesus, it is important to understand two main streams of Christian eschatology. These are broad categories that include many specific, detailed approaches. One is an eschatology that focuses on escape. The other is an eschatology that focuses on hope. 

We will explore those two categories in the upcoming blog. 

Human Destiny 08-26-15

Eschatology is the study of the end of history and the world as we know it. It relates to the ultimate destiny of humanity. It is from two the Greek words; eschatos, meaning “last” and logy, meaning “the study of.”

In Christian theology, eschatology is the study of the religious beliefs concerning the future, final events or the “end times,” as well as the ultimate purpose(s) of the world, of mankind, and the Church. Eschatology refers to doctrine about the destiny of all things. In a Christian context, this inquiry is vested in prophesy and the purposes of God as documented in the Bible. Another way to look at eschatology is “the coming of God,” because in Christian theology, the coming of God is the decisive event that signals the end of an age and the beginning of a new age.

Putting It All Together 08-25-15

Philip Yancey wrote the memoirs of Dr. Brand, a surgeon and leprosy specialist who lived a third of his life in India. Accompanying Dr. Brand (who was 80 years old at the time) back to India, Yancey was able to meet scores of people who had been loved and helped by this famous and beloved physician. Among others, he met a man named Sadan, one of Dr. Brand’s leprosy patients. Sadan looked like a miniature version of Gandhi: skinny, balding, perched cross-legged on the edge of a bed. In a high-pitched, singsong voice he told Yancey wrenching stories of past rejection: the classmates who made fun of him in school, the driver who kicked him—literally, with his shoe—off a public bus, the many employers who refused to hire him despite his training and talent, the hospitals that turned him away.

“When I got to Vellore, I spent the night on the Brands’ verandah, because I had nowhere else to go,” Sadan said. “That was unheard of for a person with leprosy back then. I can still remember when Dr. Brand took my infected, ulcerated feet in his hands. I had been to many doctors. A few had examined my hands and feet from a distance, but Dr. Brand and his wife were the first medical workers who dared to touch me. I had nearly forgotten what human touch felt like.”

Sadan then recounted the elaborate sequence of medical procedures—tendon transfers, nerve strippings, toe amputations, and cataract removal—performed by Dr. Brand and his ophthalmologist wife. He spoke for half an hour. His past life was a catalogue of human suffering. But as he and Yancey sipped their last cup of tea in Sadan’s home, just before leaving to catch a plane to England, Sadan made this astonishing statement: “Still, I must say that I am now happy that I had this disease!” “Happy?” Yancey asked incredulous.

“Yes,” replied Sadan. “Apart from leprosy, I would have been a normal man with a normal family, chasing wealth and a higher position in society. I would never have known such wonderful people as Dr. Paul and Dr. Margaret, and I would never have known the God who lives in them!”

How Can I Encounter God? 08-24-15

So what are ways that God chooses to reveal Himself to us? How might we encounter God? Now that we know God lives beyond the four walls of the church or synagogue or temple and reveals Himself beyond even the life of Jesus, how might we encounter God?

Perhaps the most important issue here is the ability to develop a heightened awareness (eyes to see) of the divine all around us. The famous poet Elizabeth Barrett Browning penned the words, “Earth is crammed with heaven, And every bush aflame with God, But only those who see take off their shoes.” Here are some questions to ask that might increase your vision:

When is the last time you truly noticed an act of love and compassion manifested by someone? Describe the unselfish love you saw in that situation. How was God revealed there?

Jesus often told contemporary stories about people to illustrate the what He called the Kingdom of God, God’s presence in the world. These include the story of the good Samaritan who boldly intervened to save a beaten and bruised traveler; a father who welcomed home his profligate and prodigal son by throwing a big party, and then imploring the resentful older brother to join them at the party; a shepherd who risked personal danger in order to find the lost sheep and then invited his friends to an ecstatic celebration of his find.

“Jesus himself looked for God not among the pious at the synagogue, but in a widow who had two pennies left to her name and in a tax collector who knew no formal prayers; he found his spiritual lessons in sparrows sold at a market, and in wheat fields and wedding banquets, and yes, even in the observations of a half-breed foreigner with five failed marriages. Jesus was a master at finding God in unexpected places.” (Yancey, pp. ix-x)

Where have you noticed deep, intense desire recently, a longing or passion? What was the desire for? Who was involved? How did the person go about trying to fill that longing? Where was God encountered there?

Journalist G.K Chesterton used to say that a man who knocks on the door of a brothel is knocking for God. It is an intriguing concept. Actually, Jesus affirmed that idea in His conversation with a woman whom He met one day at a well. Hers was a life of relational brokenness. She had already had five husbands and was living with yet another man.

Jesus recognized her deep desire and longing for love, for meaningful intimacy and deep connection and belonging that continued to drive her search with men. He acknowledged and affirmed that thirst for love in her. And then, in a powerful paradigm shift for her, redirected her thirst to Living Water, an encounter with God, an experience with God, who refuses to condemn or withdraw from failure but who chooses instead to engage with love and acceptance. This “outcast” woman was the first person to whom Jesus openly revealed himself as the Messiah, the Sent of God. Jesus modeled this Living Water perfectly with this broken, isolated woman, so effectively that she ended up bringing her entire village (with whom she endured a mutual resentment and isolation) out to meet Jesus.

When is the last time you were out in nature and felt a sense of mystery and awe that caused you to feel you were in the midst of something bigger than yourself? Where does that feeling of mystery, awe and wonder come from? What would cause you to feel a part of something bigger than you? Where is God in that experience?

Novelist Walker Percy has observed, “There may be signs of [God’s] existence, but they point both ways and are therefore ambiguous and so prove nothing … The wonders of the universe do not convince those most conversant with the wonders, the scientists themselves.”

Although there are certainly many scientists who in fact do see God in the wonders of the universe, Percy is right: nature gives off mixed signals. Like humanity, the rest of the created world presents a strange mixture of beauty and horror, of splendid cooperation and savage competition. Even the New Testament makes the statement: “We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time” (Romans 8:22) In so many respects it is true: nature is our fallen sister, not our mother.

C.S. Lewis, the noted author and scholar, used to say that the believer doesn’t go to nature to learn the truth about God—the message is too garbled—but rather to fill theological words with meaning. “Nature never taught me that there exists a God of glory and of infinite majesty. I had to learn that in other ways. But nature gave the word ‘glory’ a meaning for me. I still do not know where else I could have found one.”

In other words, nature can be a place where we encounter God as we already believe God to be, where we can experience personal and intimate episodes of awe, wonder and mystery, where we can witness something in that context that stirs within us a sense that there is something bigger and more powerful than ourselves. Nature helps us recognize that we are not the center of the universe, there are other sources of power and life beyond us, that we are but inhabitants in a universe of magnificent and mysterious complexity. An appreciation for God as the Source can be enhanced in these contexts.

The poet and song writer in the biblical book of Psalms put it this way:

“God’s glory is on tour in the skies,

God-craft on exhibit across the horizon.

Madame Day holds classes every morning,

Professor Night lectures each evening.

Their words aren’t heard,

their voices aren’t recorded,

But their silence fills the earth:

unspoken truth is spoken everywhere.

God makes a huge dome

for the sun—a superdome!

The morning sun’s a new husband

leaping from his honeymoon bed,

The day breaking sun an athlete

racing to the tape.

That’s how God’s Word vaults across the skies

from sunrise to sunset,

Melting ice, scorching deserts,

warming hearts to faith.”

(Psalm 19:1-6, The Message)

When is the last time you used Sacred Scripture to encounter God? How you can read in a way that facilitates an experience of divine revelation in what you read? Have you asked yourself as you read, what does this say to me about God? Better yet, what is God trying to say to me in these verses?

So often Scripture is used by people to prove some theological point in order to win an argument. The Bible becomes a weapon or a tool to shore up our rightness or another’s wrongness. Or Scripture is used as a resource for sacred information, a knowledge base, the ultimate treasury of theology, so if we can simply learn enough from it we can further ourselves along the path to holiness.

Like many of the religious leaders of Jesus’ day. They prided themselves for how much they knew of Sacred Scriptures in comparison to the uninformed public. Many could recite by memory lengthy passages, even entire biblical books (they were required to learn this in their schools). Consequently, they felt superior to other people.

But Jesus had some strong words for this limited approach to spirituality. Simply reciting and knowing Scripture wasn’t nearly enough. Here’s how he put it: “You have your heads in your Bibles constantly because you think you’ll find eternal life there. But you miss the forest for the trees. These Scriptures are all about me! And here I am, standing right before you, and you aren’t willing to receive from me the life you say you want.” (John 5:39-40, The Message)

The primary point of Sacred Scriptures is to facilitate a living, meaningful encounter with the God of Scripture. It’s not just about knowing information, it’s about encounter, experience, relationship. Scripture is to be approached as a divine communication opportunity, to hear the voice of God speak to your deepest soul, to listen to the words of God in a way that lets them tug at your heart.

Like the two men who, after witnessing the death of Jesus, walked the dusty road home completely disillusioned and discouraged. Jesus joined them, though they didn’t recognize him, and engaged in conversation about the recent events in Jerusalem. Taking the opportunity, Jesus spent the rest of the journey explaining to them the Scriptures about who the Messiah was and what was to happen to the Messiah and why; how the events fit into the over-arching purpose of God.

Later that night, after Jesus left them and they realized who He was, they commented to each other, “Didn’t our hearts feel strangely warm as he talked with us on the road and explained the Scriptures to us?” (Luke 24:32, NLT) And within the hour, they hurried back to Jerusalem with a new sense of faith in God and passion for community with the other followers of Jesus.

That’s the point of Scripture, to give us an encounter with the living God that renews and builds our faith and confidence in God and God’s purpose for our lives, to empower us with a passion to live lives of love and compassion for others like Jesus did. So that as others connect with us, they can encounter the God of love living in and through us.

Toward an Incarnational Theology 08-21-15

The door to encountering God (wherever God chooses to show up) is being able to accept the possibility that God will show up anywhere God wants to show up. Central to this theological paradigm is the incarnation, God’s choice to show up on earth in the human form of Jesus of Nazareth.

Here’s the way the gospel writer John (a disciple of Jesus) put it: “So the Word became human and lived here on earth among us. He was full of unfailing love and faithfulness. And we have seen his glory, the glory of the only Son of the Father.” (John 1:14, NLT)

The phrase “lived here on earth” literally means “pitched his tent” in the original language. This is a direct allusion to the Old Testament story of how God gave directions for the people of Israel to build a portable temple, a large tent or “tabernacle” to house the presence of God. The design of that tabernacle (including compartments, furniture, lay out) was later incorporated into a permanent structure in Jerusalem built of stone by King Solomon which became one of the great wonders of the ancient world.

It’s important to note that even at this early stage, some people were able to recognize that God did not and could not dwell in an earthly structure. Take a look at the words Solomon himself prayed, at the dedication of that temple: “But will God really dwell on earth? The heavens, even the highest heaven, cannot contain you. How much less this temple I have built.” (1 Kings 8:27, NIV)

Still, to most Jews, this tabernacle or temple was considered the most sacred place on earth because God’s presence was there. If you wanted to encounter God, you went to the temple in Jerusalem or you stood outside the tabernacle in the wilderness wherever the tabernacle was set up as the people wandered from their slavery in Egypt to the promised land of freedom in Canaan. The point is, the presence of God was localized in a structure, first the mobile tabernacle and later the permanent temple.

So, as John the disciple wrote, when Jesus came, He (the new tabernacle of God) brought the presence of God into human flesh and took that presence with Him wherever He went. No longer was God only in the temple. God was now in a person. And the stories of Jesus in the Gospels describe what happened when people encountered God through Jesus.

But then the theology became even more transformational. According to the New Testament, after Jesus left earth and returned to God, (whom Jesus had the nerve to call “Father,” claiming a shocking intimacy of relationship) the believers became the body of Christ. Jesus now lived on through the life of the new spiritual community established in His name. God’s presence was made manifest through the wider body. “Now all of you together are Christ’s body, and each one of you is a separate and necessary part of it.” (1 Corinthians 12:27, NLT)

God was choosing to incarnate Himself, not just with Jesus anymore, but with His followers. Notice the language of temple and tabernacle in this text: “We are God’s house, built on the foundation of the apostles and the prophets. And the cornerstone is Christ Jesus himself. We who believe are carefully joined together, becoming a holy temple for the Lord. Through him you Gentiles are also joined together as part of this dwelling where God lives by his Spirit.” (Ephesians 2:20-22, NLT)

This radical paradigm suggested that God chose to bring His presence into not just one location in the desert or at Jerusalem, and not in just one person in the form of Jesus, but now in many people in many places all over the globe. God’s presence is made manifest through His people.

That’s why John the disciple, when he wrote some letters to believers in the Middle East, expanded this paradigm by suggesting a powerful and profound implication: “Let us continue to love one another, for love comes from God. Anyone who loves is born of God and knows God. But anyone who does not love does not know God, for God is love.” (1 John 4:7-8, NLT)

God exists where love exists. God’s presence is experienced and encountered when love is experienced and encountered. In fact, the text suggests that even people who may not know Jesus or God personally but who manifest genuine love and compassion are providing an encounter with God.

So now the incarnational theology extends full length: God is in the tabernacle moving around in the desert; God is localized in the temple in Jerusalem; God is in the person Jesus all over Palestine and Judea; God is manifested through the global community of believers; and God is even encountered through people who genuinely love and care even though they may not know God or Jesus personally. Wherever love is, God is, because God is love.

Obstacles to Encountering God 08-20-15

Our Experiences: It is hard to be open to the idea of an encounter with God if our experience with God or with those who believe in God has been negative. Let’s face it, people who call themselves religious have perpetrated terrible things in the name of God. The list is a veritable smorgasbord of atrocities: killing abortion doctors, calling for the execution of homosexuals, genocide in the name of religion, the Inquisition, name calling and labeling, slavery, environmental plunder, and on and on.

The reality is, many people simply don’t have a desire to believe in the God of people who perpetuate such crimes against humanity, the environment and social justice. If what these believers stand for is what God stands for, then forget it, say many people.

It is also possible that our own experiences with God are obstacles to meaningful encounters with God. If we feel we have been disappointed by God or let down by God or ignored by God or God hasn’t measured up to our expectations of how God should act on our or other’s behalf, then it becomes increasingly difficult to allow ourselves the possibility of awareness and enlightenment about God’s transforming presence in our lives. Any footprints we might see of God seem more like boot marks on our backside where we feel run over by God.

Disappointment with God or with God’s believers are huge obstacles that often prevent people from being open to even acknowledging the existence of God much less a meaningful encounter with God.

Our Definitions: What we conceive God to be, how we define God, also affects our experience of God. Is God personal? Is God one with whom you can have a real and intimate relationship, a two-way conversation? Is God simply the universal energy and spirit that acts as the force behind all cosmic life? Is God nothing more than the best aspirations of humanity, the love and compassion manifested by people, that which is most true in the deepest core of the human spirit? How you define God will determine whether you seek a meaningful encounter with God.

Our Expectations: How you define God also shapes the expectations you have of God. If God is a personal God who wants a loving relationship with you, then your expectation of God for being loving and personal is high. And then if your experience doesn’t match that expectation, you’re tempted to lose trust or hope or confidence.

Or, many people have the paradigm that God only shows up in certain places or certain ways or to certain people. Their expectations for God are very specific and limited and localized. For example, people in the Old Testament localized God’s presence primarily in the temple in Jerusalem or in the ark of the covenant that resided in the temple. So that if the ark was removed and taken somewhere, God’s presence went with it. God was primarily confined to a building or piece of furniture or mediated only through priests.

The difficulty with that paradigm was that their expectations limited their acceptance of God’s presence elsewhere. So, for example, when Jesus came on the scene and claimed to be from God (John described Jesus as the human incarnation of God), the religious leaders ultimately rejected Him. John put it this way: “But although the world was made through him, the world didn’t recognize him when he came. Even in his own land and among his own people, he was not accepted.” (John 1:10-11, NLT)

Our expectations have a profound effect on our openness and willingness to experience God. Expectations can be big obstacles to encountering God. One of the great spiritual writers of our time, Philip Yancey, wrote a book titled Finding God in Unexpected Places. He talks about the tendency for religious people under the duress of contemporary crises to withdraw from the world, “to pull up the drawbridge and retreat behind a protective moat. The ‘castle’ into which Christians retreat is the church. That makes me sad because God does not limit himself to the four walls of a sanctuary.” (p. ix)

He goes on in his book to describe glimpses of the divine in surprising ways and places. “As a Christian journalist, I have learned to look for traces of God. I have found those traces in unexpected places: among the chief propagandists of a formerly atheistic nation, in a leprosarium in India and an Atlanta slum and even a Chicago health club, at a meeting of Amnesty International, on the Phil Donahue show, at a weekend retreat with twenty Jews and Muslims, in the prisons of Peru and Chile, and even in the plays of Shakespeare.” (p. xi)

His point is well made. God is not confined or limited to the four walls of religious institutions or sacred places. God shows up in the most unexpected places and ways. The issue is, do you see it when it happens? Do your expectations and views of God allow for it?

Ways to Encounter God 08-19-15

John Dunne wrote about some early Spanish sailors who reached the continent of South America after an arduous voyage. The fleet sailed into the headwaters of the Amazon, an expanse of water so wide the sailors thought they were still at sea. It never occurred to them to drink the water, since they expected it to be salt water, and as a result some of these sailors died of thirst.

That scene of men dying of thirst even as their ships floated on the world’s largest source of fresh water is in many ways a metaphor for our age. Is it possible that many people starve to death spiritually while all around them is life-giving nourishment? Is it possible that all around us are the footprints of God and rumors of transcendence in places we never thought of looking? And that if we lived with more awareness of the divine, the eyes of our hearts open to those mysteries and wonders, we might experience God in meaningful and life transforming ways?

One Simple Man 08-18-15

Elzeard Bouffier was a simple shepherd living in the mountain heights of the French Alps. Back around 1913 the area was a barren and colorless land where nothing grew but wild lavender. Former villages were desolate, springs were dry, and over this high unsheltered wasteland the wind blew with unendurable ferocity.

While mountain climbing, a man named Jean Giono began searching for water and came to a shepherd’s hut. He was invited in for a meal and to spend the night. Giono tells of his host’s curious activity after the meal. “The shepherd went to fetch a small sack and poured out a heap of acorns on the table. He began inspecting them, one by one, with great concentration, separating the good from the bad.  When he had set aside a large enough pile of good acorns, he counted them out by tens, meanwhile eliminating the small ones or those which were slightly cracked. When he had selected one hundred perfect acorns he stopped and he went to bed.”

Giono discovered that the shepherd had been planting trees on the wild hillsides. In three years he had planted 100,000 acorns of which 20,000 had sprouted. Of the 20,000 seedlings, this quiet man expected to lose half to rodents or to the harshness of alpine nature. So there remained 10,000 oak trees to grow where nothing had grown before. At this time in his life, Elzeard Bouffier was 55  years old. But he said his work was just beginning.

Returning to the mountainside after World War I, a couple years later, Giono discovered an incredible forest and a chain-reaction in creation. The desolation was giving way to wild growth; water flowed in the once empty brooks, the wind scattered seeds, and the ecology, sheltered by a leafy roof and bonded to the earth by a mat of spreading roots, became hospitable. Willows, rushes, meadows, gardens, flowers were born. The desolate villages were re-inhabited. Life had been resurrected everywhere.

Giono returned again to the region after World War II. Thirty kilometers away from the battle lines, the simple shepherd had quietly and peacefully continued his work, ignoring the war of 1939 just as he had the war of 1914. The reformation and restoration had continued. Here’s how Giono described it:

“On the site of the ruins I had seen in 1913 now stand neat farms. The old streams, fed by the rains and snows that the forest conserves, are flowing again. Little by little the villages have been rebuilt. People from the plains where land is costly have settled here, bringing youth, motion, and the spirit of adventure. Along the roads you meet hearty men and women, boys and girls who understand laughter and have recovered a taste for picnics. Counting the former population, unrecognizable now that they live in comfort, more than 10,000 people (and an entire mountain creation) owe their joy and happiness and productivity to one simple man, Elzeard Bouffier.”

If one human being could make that kind of a difference in the restoration of the environment and the mutual nurturing of life, imagine what could happen if all of us took our stewardship that seriously.

An Unexpected Resource 08-17-15

It’s significant that in the Story of Beginnings, after God creates human beings and gives them the responsibility of stewarding creation, God provides a resource to help them do this well. “Thus the heavens and the earth were completed in all their vast array. By the seventh day God had finished the work he had been doing; so on the seventh day he rested from all his work. And God blessed the seventh day and made it holy, because on it he rested from all the work of creating that he had done.” (Genesis 2:1-3, NIV)

God provides a weekly Sabbath—a time to stop, rest, and engage in spiritual activities—as a reminder of creation and His creative activity. In the beginning, God created. God “deputized” human beings to care for that creation. And then God stopped; God sabbathed. That weekly Sabbath was given as a gift, an opportunity for humanity and all creation to enter into God’s rest, God’s wholeness. Every seven days human beings were given a reminder of their stewardship on God’s behalf for the sake of creation. Preservation and rest and caring concern and nurture and protection are gifts the Sabbath memorializes for all of creation. Wholeness was given by God for everyone and everything. And the weekly Sabbath was God’s gift to not only remind but also to empower that kind of life.

Here’s the way one author puts it: “The distinctive Sabbath lifestyle, characterized not by exploitation but by admiration of the earth, not by devastation of nature but the exaltation of its Creator, provides a valuable model of responsible stewardship in an otherwise irresponsible society. It teaches a person to view herself not as a predator but as a curator of God’s creation.” (Bacchiochi, p. 213)

Bacchiocchi describes how the Sabbath is key to the solution of the ecological crisis facing humanity. On the Sabbath day we must leave nature untouched. To change it by building on it or by destroying it would be a violation of the Sabbath rest. The Sabbath is the day not to alter nature, but to admire it as an expression of the beauty and glory of God’s handiwork, Psalms 19:1. (Bacchiochi, pp. 204-214)

Instead of plundering natural resources, the Sabbath teaches us to cease pollution, to appreciate and respect God’s creation, and especially other human beings. “Sabbath keeping is an exercise in responsible stewardship of the whole earth. … The acknowledgement of God’s ownership, expressed on the Sabbath by surrendering the right to use gainfully human and natural resources, affects the Christian’s general attitude toward God and the world. It teaches a person to view himself not as a predator but as a curator [guardian, protector] of God’s creation.”

Long after creation, God repeated this responsibility to the Jews when he said, “You are aliens in this land I have given you. You are my tenants. Throughout the country that you hold as a possession, you must provide for the redemption of the land.” (Leviticus 25:23-24)

Tenants are not the owners. They are simply temporary dwellers in a space owned by another. Their responsibility is to treat that space in harmony with the wishes of the owner. Those of us who rent apartments or homes understand this dynamic well.

Significantly, in these verses God is telling the people that not only are they to treat others with respect and care (bringing redemption to those in need of it) but they are also to bring redemption to the land. The rest of Scripture reveals that God has a comprehensive restoration plan not only for people but also for the rest of creation. And God is calling for human beings to be a part of that redemptive plan. That is the stewardship job description God gave to human beings from the beginning.

So our continual questions as responsible stewards must be, What can we do to restore the earth to its intended state? How can we cooperate with the environment in achieving greater wholeness? What does “highest potential” mean for species in the natural world? How can we nurture and protect that? What steps can we take to be curators rather than predators? How can we manifest genuine respect for all creation? What would sincere Sabbath-keeping look like in this context? How could the weekly Sabbath be a resource for our stewardship of creation?

What If? 08-14-15

So what might that look like, if we took this managerial mandate seriously? Imagine yourself and your friends sitting in the back yard, engaged in casual conversation. Suddenly God in human form walks through the gate. A power beyond description emanates from this form that approaches you. It is obviously God. He drops to one knee and scoops up a handful of dirt. He moistens the soil in His hand and forms it into the shape of a creature, one that has never been seen before. He draws it close to His face and breathes on it. Instantly, a miracle takes place before your very eyes. The lump of soil springs up a living creature, a new creation added to the panoply of life.

Then God turns to you and places this little creature in your hand. He says, “Would you name it, please, and take care of it for me?” And then as quickly as He came, His shadow has passed through the gate and He’s gone. You are there holding this little creature in the palm of your hand. It makes a tiny sound as it looks up at you. A new life, vulnerable, pulsating with energy, the beginning of potential, a part of the ecosystem you have yet to discover its place in.

So what would you do? Get it plump for food later on? Skin it so you can wear it? Use it for target practice? Throw it the ground and disregard it, letting it find its own way in the world? Would you let it starve from neglect? Would you let your neighbor abuse it? If you lost it from sight and later saw it smashed beside the road, would you think anything of it?

Or would you value this creation because you saw it come from God’s hand? Would you hold it, care for it, provide for it, serve and preserve it, get to know it in every way you could so you could nurture and protect it to achieve its highest potential in its earthly existence; all of these things because the last thing you heard God say to you was, “This belongs to me. But I want you to take care of it for me. Please?”

God’s Job Description for Human Beings 08-13-15

The context of those Genesis 1 verses is significant. Before God gives humans these commands, he says, “Let us make human beings in our image and likeness.” (Verse 26) The nature of humanity’s dominion or rule over the earth is in direct connection with being created in God’s image. In other words, to know what kind of subduing and ruling humans were to do, we must first see what kind of subduing and ruling God does. What is the nature of God’s dominion? Biblical perspective provides the following picture.

First, when Jesus came on the scene, he revealed a God who rules creation with intimate knowledge and caring beyond the stereotypical image. Jesus made the statement, “Two sparrows cost only a penny, but not even one of them can die without your heavenly Father knowing it.” (Matthew 10:29)

Apparently, God attends the funeral of every fallen bird. God pays tribute to each road kill. Why? Because, as biblical perspective reveals, it’s all God’s creation. And creation is special to God. There’s an intimacy of tenderness and concern with all creation. So if human beings are going to rule and subdue the earth in God’s image, that is the same intimate care and concern they must bring to the task.

Here’s the way one author describes it: “There seems to be a relationship of real intimacy between the Creator and his creation. We get the impression that God loves the world of nature and cares for it with a tenderness and concern that we might expect in a gardener caring for his prize roses.” (Cottrell, p. 127)

What a profound metaphor to use in describing God’s relationship to creation. Have you ever watched a gardener who is passionate about roses care for them? There isn’t any part of the rose plant’s existence that isn’t meaningful and attended to by the gardener. The “subduing” and “ruling” involves deferential treatment and profound care and respect, admiration not exploitation.

Second, Jesus further defined God’s rule and dominion with this radical description: “You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their high officials exercise authority over them. Not so with you. Instead, whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wants to be first must be your slave-just as the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.” (Matthew 20:25-28, NIV)

What does this tell us about the way God rules? God’s mandate is that the one who rules is the one who serves. Ruling is defined by the way one serves the needs of those within the domain of the ruler. And Jesus gave that ultimate description of service when He gave up his life for the ones He came to serve. In an act of unselfishness, of pure compassion and mercy, He sacrificed His own self-interest for the sake of empowering the best in others.

This certainly suggests significant implications for what God had in mind when he gave human beings the responsibility of stewarding creation on his behalf. Instead of treading upon creation in order to serve ourselves and our own egotistical needs through acts of greed and gratification, we work to live in balance and mutual service to all of creation. We pay intentional attention to how we can serve our environment so that it, too, can become all that God originally intended it to be.

So actions like reducing consumption, recycling, renewing natural resources, limiting deforestation—all of which upset our sensitive ecosystems—are not simply policy choices of liberal environmentalists and tree-huggers. They’re responsible choices by people given a mandate from the Creator God to steward and manage the planet in ways that serve rather than destroy.

That’s why God continues his job description for human beings by adding, “The Lord God put humans in the garden of Eden to care for it and work it.” (Genesis 2:15). The Hebrew phrase can accurately be translated, “to serve and preserve it.” 

The Story of Beginnings 08-12-15

The Old Testament Scriptures begin with the story of Beginnings. God brings planetary life into existence, including human beings. And then God gives to humanity a very serious responsibility. “God said, ‘Let us make man in our image, in our likeness, and let them rule over the fish of the sea and the birds of the air, over the livestock, over all the earth, and over all the creatures that move along the ground.’ So God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him; male and female he created them. God blessed them and said to them, ‘Be fruitful and increase in number; fill the earth and subdue it. Rule over the fish of the sea and the birds of the air and over every living creature that moves on the ground.’” (Genesis 1:26-28, NIV)

Notice what God tells humans to do. One, fill the earth. Two, subdue the earth. And three, rule over the earth. The problem with these action words is that they have been interpreted by religious people through the centuries in ways that produced terrible injury to the environment by well-meaning people who in the name of God have exploited and destroyed His creation.

This has led secular historians and scientists to place the blame for today’s ecological crisis largely on the shoulders of Bible-believing religions. Dr. Lynn White, a historian at the University of California, in an article in Science magazine titled “The Historical Roots  of Our Ecological Crisis” puts it this way: “Christianity not only established a dualism of man and nature, but also insisted that it is God’s will that man exploit nature for his proper ends. So Christianity bears a huge burden of guilt.”

Even more outspoken is Ian L. McHarg. He’s a Scot who became a town planner, an ecologist, and the founder and chairman of the Department of Landscape Architecture and Regional Planning at the University of Pennsylvania. In 1969 he wrote that the Christian interpretation of the Genesis story “in its insistence upon dominion and subjugation of nature, encourages the most exploitative and destructive instincts in man rather than those that are deferential and creative … Indeed, God’s affirmation about man’s domination was a declaration of war on nature.”

The issue at stake in this Genesis story quoted earlier is how one interprets those responsibilities God gave to human beings. Words like “fill,” “subdue,” and “rule” certainly carry very negative connotations. People like Genghis Khan, Nebuchadnezzar, Julius Caesar, Atilla the Hun, Stalin, Hitler, Idi Amin, and Sadam Hussein provide a perspective on “ruling” that denotes violence, power, self-centeredness, control and exploitation. Is this what God had in mind when He gave humanity stewardship over the globe?

Contemporary Examples of New Ways of Knowing 08-10-15

One effective way to help people consider the question of God in a postmodern world is to begin with narratives that are more accessible to them than the Bible. Throughout our culture there are signposts of God’s kingdom—evidences of God’s reality breaking into our present age—if only we have the eyes to see them.

One of the most profound ways that we are confronted with the big questions of philosophy is in popular culture. Not all popular culture, of course. But in some highly thoughtful and well written music, film, theater and other art, we come face to face with these larger questions. Christians would be wise to build conversations in the public around questions raised by popular culture in a way that opens people’s imaginations to God’s kingdom. This is not a time for dogmatic proclamations about “what the movie meant” as if to say, “and the moral of the story is …” but rather to invite people into the large questions of their existence and sense of participation in God’s creation.