I can't take excuses made for the pain in the world.
No amount of MY having food, shelter, and medical care will make it acceptable that a child in India does not.
No amount of MY having joy, peace, and flourishing in a Kingdom of God and world transformed will make it acceptable that those that I love are in eternal torment.
I struggle so much with platitudes that are offered to me, even in Christian culture: if you're safe (from hell or rising water), be grateful and flourish. But God has given me a heart that is tender, oh so sensitive. And as I open myself up to being that person, having that heart, I am vulnerable to be overwhelmed by the brokenness of our theology and our lives. As I seek wholeness spiritually, physically, emotionally, and mentally in practical ways, I grow stronger but more fragile. I'm not sure what to do with fragility. It doesn't seem very How-Firm-a-Foundation-Ye-Saints-of-the-Lord.
Maybe even though he became human, was born into poverty, had power taken from him, and conquered death in an upside-down way, I still expected the Heart of God to be strong and impenetrable and...well, God-like. But he's not like that at all. The heart of God is strong in tenderness, mighty in loving-kindness, and heavy on unrequested forgiveness.
As I learn more about God and his Heart, I am increasingly burdened by the things He is concerned with: justice, freedom, love, mercy, and flourishing without an ego. I can't just check the "I'm a Christian" box and then remain focused on myself and my achievements in faith and society. Heaven is not in the future, Heaven is now and we can align with it when we let God reign in our lives.
God is not interested in saving a few and letting the rest perish. He does not have the heart of a father who only loves the "good" child. He does not create to destroy, send tornadoes to chastise us, or abandon even those who reject him openly. Yes, you can point to verses that might indicate he's like that, if read a certain way, but if your theology does not translate into worship and goodness and any sort of recognizably beautiful God, then you need a new theology (and probably a new god.)
My trust remains, over and over, that God is so much mightier to save than we say he is in the American Reformed Evangelical church. That God's Love and Justice so outweighs our world that we can only glimpse it in slivers of light. That there are other orthodox ways to read those verses that don't make God a power-tripping a-hole.
The more I read and contemplate the crucifixion and resurrection, the more pivotal it becomes. What if it really did shatter EVERYTHING and make God's relationship with every person who has ever lived in every country and every situation a new and good thing? Even when we don't realize it? How would that change your love for people, your desire to want to sort them into "Saved" and "Unsaved," "Like Me" and "Different" categories? What if sanctification is the realizing of a truth that exists? What if even if you're not where I am yet on that path, God is still working tirelessly with you?
This season of Lent isn't truly about sadness and smallness of my own self, it is about seeing an ever awesome expansion of Christ's work in the world.
Finished.
And yet still growing, in my heart and in this Kingdom.
No comments:
Post a Comment