A Different Kind of Life

Time and Beyond Time

(Another interesting thought from C.S. Lewis, this one from Mere Christianity.)

Our life come to us moment by moment. One moment disappears before the next comes along; and there is room for very little in each. That is what time is like. And of course you and I tend to take it for granted that this time series--this arrangement of past, present and future--is not simply the way life comes to us but the way all things really exist. We tend to assume that the whole universe and God Himself are always moving on from past to future just as we do...

Almost certainly God is not in time. His life does not consist of moments following one another. If a million people are praying to Him at ten-thirty tonight, He need not listen to them all in that one little snippet which we call ten-thirty. Ten-thirty--and every other moment from the beginning of the world--is always the Present for Him. If you like to put it that way, He has all eternity in which to listen to the split second of prayer put up by a pilot as his plane crashes in flames.

That is difficult, I known. Let me try to give something, not the same, but a bit like it. Suppose I am writing a novel. I write "Mary laid down her work; next moment came a knock at the door!" For Mary who has to live in the imaginary time of my story there is no interval between putting down the work and hearing the knock. But I, who am Mary's maker, do not live in that imaginary time at all. Between writing the first half of that sentence and the second, I might sit down for three hours and think steadily about Mary. I could think about Mary as if she were the only character in the book and for as long as I pleased, and the hours I spent in doing so would not appear in Mary's time (the time inside the story) at all.

A Forceful Justice

I, the Lord, will punish the world for its evil and the wicked for their sin. I will crush the arrogance of the proud and the haughtiness of the mighty. Few will be left alive when I have finished my work…For I will shake the heavens, and the earth will move from its place. I, the Lord Almighty, will show my fury and fierce anger.
--Isaiah 13:11-13

Yesterday’s passage was an image of utter peace and tranquility; today’s is one of complete rage, destruction, and violence. Yet they come a mere two chapters apart and are both seem to come from the voice of God himself—a fact that is possibly more shocking and disorienting than either alternative on its own. In the course of thinking about this, that very discomfort got me thinking—why? Why am I so uneasy with the idea of a God who was both loving and judging, with divinity capable of both peace and violence? If we are truly honest about this situation, I think that most of us would be somewhat comfortable with a god that solely embodied either extreme—either all peace and love or all violence and judgment. It’s a simpler stance—we know what to do with a god like that. Our response can then be equally cut-and-dried; it is when he embodies both that we get uncomfortable and uncertain.

So why then are we so uncomfortable with a God who embodies peace and promises violence? Allow me for a moment to suggest a possible reason: the stance is all too familiar to us. We ourselves know what it is to stand in the tension between peace and violence, desiring the former but very capable of the latter. What is more, we know all too well our own willingness to forsake peace and unjustly employ violent action. We know the uncertainty of our own thoughts and actions—the idea that God would be prone to such erratic behavior is not too far fetched.

Yet there is a deeper strain at work here that we must not miss if we are to properly understand the character of God that Isaiah describes. God here speaks in very violent terms indeed, but it is the force and violence that justice brings. Where we act from a self-seeking violence, God moves in a kind of “forceful justice”—a justice that will brook no quarter to evil and will not be swayed by any opposition. Throughout the Bible, God speaks at great length of his mercy, kindness and grace available for all who would accept it. Yet even God will not allow such grace to be ignored and trampled upon forever. One day he will put a stop to the violence and hate of our world with a forceful justice that will leave no room for opposition and no chance of resistance.

One day all will be at peace—whether willingly or unwillingly. A scary thought indeed.

A Vision I'm Too Small For

In that day the wolf and the lamb will live together; the leopard and the goat will be at peace. Calves and yearlings will be safe among lions, and a little child will lead them all. The cattle will graze among bears. Cubs and calves will lie down together. And lions will eat grass as the livestock do. Babies will crawl safely among poisonous snakes. Yes, a little child wil put its hand in a nest of deadly snakes and pull it out unharmed. Nothing will hurt or destroy in all my holy mountain. And as the waters fill the sea, so the earth will be filled with people who know the Lord.
--Isaiah 11:6-9

Quite an interesting mental image, isn't it? A wolf and a lamb standing calmly in the same pasture, a bear and a young calf sleeping side by side, and a young child walks safely and surely among them all. Such a nice and picturesque scene, eh?

And I don't buy it. I just don't.

Allow me to explain. I am not saying that I think it is impossible, or that God has lied or otherwise claimed something that He is incapable of doing or unwilling to bring about.

What I am saying is that my heart, my mind, and my soul simply don't lean that way. I have so long lived in a world corrupted by its own selfishness, greed, malice, and violence that I am incapable of taking such an image as an authentic reality. My mind is incapable of comprehending a state of absolute peace, and my heart is unwilling to accept that the ultimate bend of history is toward peace--that God will truly make all things well.

In the end, it seems that the root issue here is not that the vision Isaiah describes is too big to be real, but rather that I am simply too small to endure it.

Anyone else feel this way?

Whose Feet Can I Wash?

If I then, the Lord and the Teacher, washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. For I gave you an example that you also should do as I did to you.
--John 13:14-15

How influenced are we by the world around us? A simple question, yet one that is not easily answered. We live in the midst of a society obsessed with money and possession, blinded by power and privilege, and mesmerized by sex and beauty. Yet underneath each of these desires—giving them their power and driving them onward—is a deep, abiding selfishness. At its heart, we live in a world driven, fueled, and motivated by self-interest. Everything is centered on the fulfillment of our own urges and wants.

Each of us, I think, would readily agree to such an assessment—it is virtually impossible to deny this characteristic of modern society. Yet I wonder whether we would so readily agree to our own participation in this mindset. Put simply, it is easy enough (and at times quite fulfilling and self-justifying) to say that everyone around us is selfish, yet it is much more difficult to admit to such darkness in our own souls.

Jesus’ words here stand in stark contrast to such self-interest. In Jesus day—a world devoid of advanced transportation—virtually all travel was done on foot by way of dry, dusty roads. As such, the feet of any traveler would quickly become unbelievably filthy. Thus, it was the job of the lowliest servant in any given house to wash the feet of guests prior to the meal—not only for concerns of comfort and sanitation, but also as a sign of respect and honor for the guest.

Yet interestingly enough, Jesus here—at the beginning of his last supper with his closest followers—takes on such a menial, demeaning task. Why? Why would he take both the time and dishonor to do such a thing? Would there not be someone else capable of the task?

Of course there were others capable—Jesus did this intentionally. He takes these significant, fleeting, precious moments to teach his followers one of his greatest lessons—that this was the manner in which they were to live their lives. In direct opposition to the selfishness of both then and now, he states by these simple actions and words that life—the true life that God intended—was meant to be lived differently. Rather than a life characterized by blind self-interest, we are to live in wanton self-sacrifice and generosity.

So a question for us all—whose feet can you wash today?