Thursday, March 21, 2024

How it Rolls

 

Hey, Cobblestone,

     Certain things, we are told, roll downhill. Anyone who has been in a chain of command, whether military or civil, will immediately assign a four-letter s-word to the top of the list (not that you would use the word yourself, tender Church, it’s simply what we’ve heard). And the Second Law of Thermodynamics goes so far as to say that all things run down, not up. Ouch.

     Thankfully, the Creator of the universe has provided a shining exception. Hope rolls uphill, not down. Rather than leaning on my own understanding, or asking you to, let’s consult what the Creator has said:

    Therefore, since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ. Through him we have also obtained access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and we rejoice in hope of the glory of God. Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us (Romans 5:1-5).

 According to God-breathed Scripture, hope rolls along an uphill path through three necessary territories: suffering, endurance, and character. Given our druthers, we would have lobbed hope directly into “the glory of God,” sailing over the hard stuff. But hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what he sees? (Romans 8:24). We are called upon to trust the process.

     To give the Second Law of Thermodynamics a fair shake, it has to be studied further. It’s not totally bogus; indeed, it is mostly right. Up front, it says that all things are running, and will continue to run, downward. The entire universe will, through irreversible processes, eventually sag into a state of universal deadness. The word often used for the deadness is “entropy.” Given my limited vocabulary, yeah, I had to look it up. In terms of thermodynamics, entropy is “a measure of the unavailable energy in a closed thermodynamic system.” When all energy becomes unavailable, deadness happens.

     Unless.

     Unless there is, somewhere in the mix, a reversible process. Unless there is, already loose in the universe, an ultimate renewable resource. In my humble opinion, the best way to study the Second Law of Thermodynamics is to have the First Law firmly in hand: “Energy is neither created nor destroyed.” To put it in familiar terms: the fuel you burned leaving the green light converted thermal energy to kinetic energy; the brakes you applied stopping at the next red light converted the kinetic energy back to thermal energy. No energy was created or destroyed; the exchange was one-for one. Now I’ll admit, it can reasonably be said, “My gas tank goes empty; my brakes wear out. Isn’t that energy irretrievable, or, as the Second Law says, unavailable?” The answer is Yes and No. Irretrievable and therefore unavailable by conventional means? Yes. Ultimately irretrievable and unavailable? No.

     Enter hope.

     The Story of the End of History, aka the testimony of Jesus Christ to what must surely be, aka the Book of the Revelation, describes anything but disorder leading to universal deadness. It describes, rather, perfect order and beauty that left the apostle, at times, without sufficient words. The Second Law of Thermodynamics will, in the fulness of time, be relieved of its burden of deadness. And so will the one who reads aloud the words of this prophecy, and blessed are those who hear, and who keep what is written in it (Revelation 1:3). Whoever has the washing of regeneration and the renewal of the Holy Spirit (Titus 3:5); whoever has the mind of Christ (1Corinthians 2:16) – in other words, those who have an ear to hear – will hear the call to come up higher, to follow the ball of hope on its uphill roll.

     Romans Five, one-thru-five, is the road map. And maybe the best thing we can do in this walk-around world is figure out where on the map we are, to give a nod to those territories of suffering, endurance, and character… and triangulate our location. Did you suffer in that situation? Oh, brother, did I ever! And what was the outcome? Well, I came through it. And was endurance produced? Um, I guess so, yeah, or else I wouldn’t have come through. And was character produced? Now that you mention it, I did learn a thing or two about not getting myself into the same messes. Congratulations, brother! Congratulations, sister! My own experiments in suffering are producing the same results. There’s hope for us yet.

     What are you hoping for? By design, it will be out of sight for a while. The First Law of Thermodynamics gives proper context to the Second; the first law is the scientist’s expression of hope. Though mankind will never invent the instrument to measure it, hope runs out ahead, gathering the thermal energy of every far-flung star, the kinetic energy of every orbiting planet, the God-given soul energy of every prayer – to be gathered up into perfect order, according to the Creator’s plan.

     With Good Friday only a week away, I’m compelled to close out this letter with words of ultimate hope. It comes, again, from the letter to the Romans:

    If the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you, he who raised Christ Jesus from the dead will also give life to your mortal bodies through his Spirit who dwells in you (8:11). Yes, the crucifixion is a locatable historical fact. And so is the resurrection. As Friday was happening, Sunday was already on the way. Resurrection power is real – now and forever.

     Herein is hope.

  

Grace and Peace (for the onward and upward),

 

John

Friday, March 8, 2024

How Do You Hear?

 Hey, Cobblestone,


    “On a scale of 1-10, with 10 being the worst pain you’ve ever experienced, what’s your pain level today?” I cringe when a medical professional asks me that question. I’m never sure how to answer. Today’s pain may be throbbing, while the worst-ever was sharp. Kidney stones produce a different pain than broken ribs – I know this for a fact. Besides, other than taking measures to keep the worst-ever pains from happening again, I’ve been trying to forget them. Today’s 10 is today’s 10; I might be able to compare it to yesterday, maybe last week, but years-ago is probably not doable. Such is the nature of diagnostic questions; they have their limitations. I’m about to ask you a diagnostic question, Church. Just so you know: I’m aware of the limitations. So, something like the medical pro who’s trying to determine what goes into the next prescription or syringe or IV bag, please trust that I’m simply looking for the best path forward. Here goes…

    How do you usually hear from the Lord?

    Psalm 34:4 says, I sought the LORD, and he answered me and delivered me from all my fears. 

    The Lord answers those who seek him – the verse above is but one example. The question at hand isn’t whether the Lord answers, but rather, how does one know that he has? When you seek the Lord, what form do you usually expect the reply to take? Please think on it for as long as it takes to form a recognizable answer.

    Some of us look for the Lord’s reply in Scripture; some in circumstances; some in a prophetic word; some in a spirit-level witness. None of those is unacceptable; all of those, at different times, have been part of the history of the Father’s children, collectively. And for any given one of us, there’s probably no singular method. I bring all this up because, for whatever reason, the Lord is prompting me to. Maybe it’s important for us to sort it out.

    There are two dominant and competing themes in Psalm 34: fear/trouble/affliction vs. deliverance/rescue/blessing. In the first theme, please note: though they’re similar, those three things aren’t exactly the same. Fear may best be met with one kind of answer from the Lord,while trouble or affliction is best met with some other.

    The history of Psalm 34 reaches back into 1Samuel 21. David, who is credited with writing the psalm, was delivered from a very particular trouble on a very particular day. He sought the Lord, and the answer manifested as a radical change in the circumstances. Maybe the next day’s trouble was different; maybe the answer was, too. As Jesus so famously said, “Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof” (Matthew 6:34). Good thing the Father never runs out of ways to meet the day.

    There is precisely zero chance of life being painless, or devoid of trouble, fear, and affliction. The least helpful thing we can do at this point is to not know or not care how the Lord answers when we seek him. Our souls need to close the loop. On top of having it declared in Scripture as an unassailable fact, our souls need to know – from the inside out – that the Father hears, answers, and delivers.

    I’m hoping (and praying right now) that the Lord will provide time and space for you to sort it out. I’m also hoping that you’ll share your findings with others, compare notes, triangulate. There are some particular answers I’m looking for these days that, so far, involve at least three ways of hearing from the Lord. I’m sharing the partial findings with a few brothers and sisters, fellow pilgrims. I don’t want to shut the door on any legitimate method of hearing from the Father. And I sure-as-heck don’t want to go another day without even trying to identify his usual and customary ways of answering.

    How do you hear from the Lord? How do you know that you have?

    This poor man cried, and the LORD heard him and saved him out of all his troubles (Psalm 34:6).
Amen, and may it be so in your life.

May you also know how it happened.


Grace and Peace (for the pilgrimage),
John

Thursday, February 22, 2024

Come to Me

 

Hey, Cobblestone,

     I hardly ever do this, but I’m compelled to repeat a letter I wrote to you about eleven months ago. Hoping that I’m picking up what the Father is putting down, here it is, from March of last year:

     Every book you’ve ever read, or not read, on the topic of prayer can be summed up in three words. Every publication, podcast, and coffee conversation – if it had anything to do with approaching the throne of grace to find help for yourself or someone else – can be distilled into a trio of first-grade sight words:

     “Come to me.”

     It makes me groan to see a shelf full of paperbacks, minimum 200 pages each, competing for allegiance to a very particular form and pattern of prayer. “You gotta say this!” “No, you gotta say that!” I groan even more when I picture us standing before such a shelf, feeling the onset of paralysis-by-analysis, afraid of doing prayer the wrong way.

     “Come to me.” 

     If there’s one passage of Scripture that is covering and congealing everything we’re doing as a church these days… well, here it is:

    “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light” (Matthew 11:28-30, Jesus speaking).

     Yes, there are different forms of prayer. First Timothy lists a few: First of all, then, I urge that supplications, prayers, intercessions, and thanksgivings be made for all people (2:1). But read on: For there is one God, and there is one mediator between God and men, the man Christ Jesus (verse 5).

     “Come to me.”

     Yes, we just heard a rousing sermon – and solid, too – on how to pray for one another, followed by a prayer practicum Sunday night. By all means, preach! By all means, practice! But all of it is going nowhere unless we first accept the invitation Jesus extends.

     “Come to me.”

     Lest I stand convicted of writing the first few pages of my own 200-page book, I will finish making this one point and forthwith shut up. Three one-syllable words, eight letters total – in the mind’s eye and the heart’s understanding, we don’t even need the punctuation. Only hear his voice…

     “Come to me.” 

Grace and Peace (on your way there),

 

John

 

P.S. from February 2024: None of us has to be a superstar around here… just come to Jesus. A simple “Here I am” will do for a start.

Thursday, February 8, 2024

Plumb

 

Hey, Cobblestone,

     I don’t like being in big cities. This much must be understood before we can move on. And yet, here we are, my bride and me, spending three days and two nights in Columbus, Ohio. Downtown. More by necessity than preference. Given my preference, this same event would take place in a Preble County bean field, under a tent, in May. My beloved tells me there’s not a tent in the world big enough to put all these people under, so we’ve piled up in heaps, in Columbus, in February. And though I’m not a fan, I am resolved to make the best of it.

     To that end, I’m asking the Father to give me new eyes for the city. He started by putting us into a quirky space on the top floor of a 20-story hotel. The room is a trio of small triangles, joined at the points, set in a corner of the building that turns back on itself, making a stubby peninsula. It has, by my crude but close-enough measurement, forty-three linear feet of window and a 225-degree panorama of the bustling capital city. A great perch from which to begin using those new eyes.

     At sunrise this morning, the buildings, from the squat parking lot gatehouse to the soaring Nationwide tower, began yielding their shapes to natural light. Under the dazzling display of turquoise, magenta, and every shade from red-to-orange, this is what I saw everywhere: plumb. Straight up and down. Truly vertical. I could sight along the edge of one structure and get a witness from the edge of another one in the next block. Whatever style the architect might have chosen for expression, one design parameter was in play throughout: gravity.

     Nothing very tall stands for very long without being plumb. One very lucky builder in Pisa has, so far, gotten by with out-of-plumb, but if I ever visit that famous landmark I’ll probably stand only on the “uphill” side. Builders want to make gravity their friend, and plumb is the best way to go about it.

     The edge of whatever is plumb points directly at the earth’s center of mass, the true and unalterable source of gravity. And when I remember who established the location of earth’s center of mass, I can relax in the middle of all this urban audacity. There may be a million personalities in this town, but every one of them, including mine, is subject to the law of the Lord. Like it or not, know it or not, God’s got this. Same goes for the Preble County bean field.

     The law of the Lord is perfect, reviving the soul… (Psalm 19:7)

     My soul is choosing to be revived by the law of the Lord. A good many things have happened in this city – and every city and town – that are, as they say in the trades, “half-a-bubble off.” But they can’t stay out of plumb forever. Eventually, and in the Lord’s good time, every matter will be checked against his plumb line, and whatever is found to be untrue will fall. Meanwhile, his law makes these tall buildings stand as a witness.

     My elevator mates are jealous. Each time I’ve asked, “Could you press 20, please,” it’s been met with some version of “So you’re the one in the penthouse suite. Now we know who’s got all the money around here!” Seriously, no. The room strikes me as a space the architect didn’t figure on, but a creative and ambitious crew made the most of – which endears it to me. It’s more of a broom closet with a whole lot of glass. And a whole lot of grace. A great space from which to gaze out on the law of the Lord in operation.

     Maybe you could find a perch sometime soon, a vantage point with sufficient view to see some truth. If so, I’ll recommend the same passage of Scripture I’ve been considering this morning:

The law of the Lord is perfect,
    reviving the soul;
the testimony of the Lord is sure,
    making wise the simple;
the precepts of the Lord are right,
    rejoicing the heart;
the commandment of the Lord is pure,
    enlightening the eyes;
the fear of the Lord is clean,
    enduring forever;
the rules of the Lord are true,
    and righteous altogether.
More to be desired are they than gold,
    even much fine gold;
sweeter also than honey
    and drippings of the honeycomb.
Moreover, by them is your servant warned;
    in keeping them there is great reward.

Who can discern his errors?
    Declare me innocent from hidden faults.
Keep back your servant also from presumptuous sins;
    let them not have dominion over me!
Then I shall be blameless,
    and innocent of great transgression.

Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart
    be acceptable in your sight,
    Lord, my rock and my redeemer (Psalm 19:7-14).

 

Grace and Peace (wherever you perch),

 

John

 

Thursday, January 25, 2024

Trimmed and Burning, Part 2

 

Hey, Cobblestone,

     How glad are you that Jesus came the first time? Emmanuel – “God with us.” He left the glory of heaven, put on the frailties of flesh, and subjected himself to every temptation common to mankind. He conquered sin – and death, too – and made a way for sinners to be delivered from the dominion of sin. He made a way through the veil, his flesh, for us to have access to the throne of grace, now and forever. So tell me: have you loved his first appearing? I should hope so.

     How about his next appearing? How’s your level of eagerness for the fulfillment of the Kingdom of Christ on this very planet? As compared to, say, Christmas or your next birthday or your income tax refund, how giddy do you get at the prospect of the rightful King’s return?

     Jesus gave a parable (Matthew 25:1-13) of ten virgins who went out to meet the bridegroom (parallel to Jesus) for the wedding feast. The five virgins who took extra oil for their lamps were considered “wise,” and were ready, even though the bridegroom delayed. The other five, considered “foolish,” had insufficient oil, and were shut out of the feast. The difference between them wasn’t resources; it was eagerness. We know that to be true because of the warning Jesus gave at the end of the parable: “Watch, therefore, for you know neither the day nor the hour” (verse 13).

     I thought it might do us some good to study the example of a long-ago Christian who had loved the first appearing of Jesus and worked hard to build eagerness in others for the consummation of the Kingdom. His name, at first, was Saul of Tarsus, later to be Paul. Jesus met Paul on the road to Damascus, Syria – as Paul put it, Last of all, as to one untimely born, he appeared also to me (1Corinthians 15:8). How would someone who had met Jesus in his first appearing recommend his second appearing to us who have come so many centuries afterward? There’s solid evidence in another letter the apostle wrote. Take a look:

     I charge you in the presence of God and of Christ Jesus, who is to judge the living and the dead, and by his appearing and his kingdom: preach the word; be ready in season and out of season; reprove, rebuke, and exhort, with complete patience and teaching. For the time is coming when people will not endure sound teaching, but having itching ears they will accumulate for themselves teachers to suit their own passions, and will turn away from listening to the truth and wander off into myths. As for you, always be sober-minded, endure suffering, do the work of an evangelist, fulfill your ministry.

    For I am already being poured out as a drink offering, and the time of my departure has come. I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Henceforth there is laid up for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, will award to me on that day, and not only to me but also to all who have loved his appearing (2Timothy 4:1-8).

     In my humble estimation, the ink hadn’t dried on the words “the time is coming” before the time had come. Most of what Paul wrote to the churches was about false and deceptive teaching, and the propensity of people to fall for it – even to accumulate for themselves teachers to suit their own passions. Other than Jesus himself, Paul was more qualified than anyone to give exhortation concerning the Lord’s return. Given the audience and the inspiration, he made his charge by (Christ’s) appearing and his kingdom: Work hard. Be ready. And be glad – we’ve loved his first appearing, and we have every reason to love the next one.

     Not that I’m claiming to be an apostle or sub-apostle or anything of the sort, but maybe I’ve been around long enough that I can make some observations worth considering. I’ve lived, so far, through 13 presidential administrations, 32 versions of Congress, and I’m-not-sure how many Supreme Court Justices. Truly, the level of foolishness is at an all-time high, at least for the years to which I can personally attest. Serious people with high-caliber titles refer to pre-born humans as “pregnancy tissue.” Laws are on the books saying a female can become a male – or vice-versa or back again – just by saying so. Arguments are made in high places that some people don’t have the rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness because they were born south of the Rio Grande. Moral issues get fumbled, picked up, and fumbled again, as if moral issues actually belonged in the arena of legislature (which they do not). “Truth” gets reinvented with every news cycle – whatever it takes to scratch the itching ear.

     It's not a failure of politics or democracy. No political system could ever handle what humans have been up against ever since Genesis 3: namely, sin. And being subject to the Second Law of Thermodynamics, like everything else in the universe, political systems run down, not up.

     The problem is lack of a King. When God’s chosen people rejected him in favor of a mere mortal king (1Samuel 8:1-9), it was a far bigger tragedy than they realized. And we haven’t recovered. With each generation, each century, each millennium, the ratcheting has been downward. Absurdity is given legitimacy. The list of atrocities grows. The only way out is up, through the tunnel vision of the tightening spiral, anticipating the only one who ever earned the title of capital-K King.

     How, then, would we show eagerness for his return? Feelings are never enough – what’s the proof-of-concept? In another parable involving lamps, Jesus said, “Stay dressed for action and keep your lamps burning…” (Luke 12:35). Curious about the application, Peter asked, “Lord, are you telling this parable for us or for all?” And the Lord said, “Who then is the faithful and wise manager, whom his master will set over his household, to give them their portion of food at the proper time? Blessed is that servant whom his master will find so doing when he comes” (verses 41-43).

     Are you unsure of how to prove your eagerness to see the Kingdom on earth? Ask the King. He will have perfectly scalable, perfectly appropriate, perfectly acceptable actions for you and me to take – in the power of the Holy Spirit. And then we do what he gives us. That’s what it means to keep one’s lamp trimmed and burning.

 

Grace and Peace (to all who have loved his appearing),

 

John

Wednesday, January 10, 2024

Trimmed and Burning, Part One

 

Hey, Cobblestone,

    The year known as 2023 was many things to many people. Here’s what it was not: It was not the year Jesus returned to consummate his kingdom on earth. Now that last year is last year, we can say for certain the second coming of Christ didn’t happen. How about this year?

     From the Cobblestone Statement of Faith, Article 8: “We believe in the personal, visible, and imminent return of our Lord Jesus Christ to this earth, and the consummation of His Kingdom…”

     The year we’re rolling into has as much potential to be The Year as any year since Christ ascended. The years don’t diminish in potential; indeed, 2023 brought us 365 days closer to the Day (Hebrews 10:25). Whatever your favorite end-times theories are, this is an unassailable fact. What are we to do with it? Let’s see what Jesus had to say.

     “Then the kingdom of heaven will be like ten virgins who took their lamps and went to meet the bridegroom. Five of them were foolish, and five were wise. For when the foolish took their lamps, they took no oil with them, but the wise took flasks of oil with their lamps. As the bridegroom was delayed, they all became drowsy and slept. But at midnight there was a cry, ‘Here is the bridegroom! Come out to meet him.’ Then all those virgins rose and trimmed their lamps. And the foolish said to the wise, ‘Give us some of your oil, for our lamps are going out.’ But the wise answered, saying, ‘Since there will not be enough for us and for you, go rather to the dealers and buy for yourselves.’ And while they were going to buy, the bridegroom came, and those who were ready went in with him to the marriage feast, and the door was shut. Afterward the other virgins came also, saying, ‘Lord, lord, open to us.’ But he answered, ‘Truly, I say to you, I do not know you.’ Watch therefore, for you know neither the day nor the hour” (Matthew 25:1-13).  

     On first review, Jesus could be telling us that we really want to be numbered among the wise rather than the foolish. Sure, no argument there. What else? Another look shows the need for preparing and watching. Again, a good observation. Anything more?

     On behalf of the bridegroom – he is Jesus, of course – let me ask a question: If the Lord returns during this year, how glad will you be to see him?

     In the broader context of Matthew 24 and 25, another question hangs in the air. In this private conversation with Jesus, his disciples are asking, “Tell us, when will these things be, and what will be the sign of your coming and of the close of the age?” (24:3). To paraphrase: “How much time do we have?!” It seems, on one hand, that they’re eager to see messed-up situations made right – the occupying Romans kicked out of Israel, for instance. But on the other hand, I sense an anxiety, a reluctance to let go of what they know or anticipate yet in life. They were all fairly young. Best we can tell, only one was married. You get the picture, I think.

     To help answer the question I asked earlier, I’ll go out on a limb and make a statement: The quality of our preparation is directly proportional to our eagerness to see the bridegroom. The wise virgins had already decided that even if the bridegroom tarried, they would wait for him, and so they took extra oil for their lamps. They had every reason to believe he was coming, but didn’t know when, exactly. Their wisdom was rooted in their gladness at the prospect of going out to meet him

     One of the most delightful theological conversations I’ve ever had was with a 12-year-old several years ago. Her parents and older siblings had come to a membership class I was teaching, and she was hanging out with us (and learning at least as much as anyone else in the room). Part of the class is a short study of our Statement of Faith, and she had pertinent questions on several points. Article 8 bothered her, especially the “imminent” aspect of Jesus’ return. Not too soon, she hoped.

     I get it. This life is all we know for sure, and it’s good (mostly). And there’s always the hope that what isn’t good can still be made good, and whatever we haven’t experienced yet will be good when we do. Sometimes I think of the Lord’s returning the same way I would the prospect of people visiting my home for the first time: I want to get the grass cut and the driveway swept – maybe they’ll think I keep the place looking like that all the time. “Just a little longer, Jesus, so I can knock out a few more items on this punch list.”

     There’s nothing wrong with getting some solid kingdom work done in advance of the consummation thereof. Let’s work as hard as we’re able, holding onto the basic idea in the Parable of the Ten Virgins: We must not let anything override our eagerness to meet the bridegroom, whether he comes soon or late. Eagerness fuels preparation, and the preparation, in and of itself, accomplishes kingdom work. And so I ask again: If the Lord returns during this year, how glad will you be to see him?

    Let’s take up the topic in our next letter. Meanwhile…

 

Grace and Peace (and eagerness all-over-ya),

 

John   

Thursday, December 14, 2023

He Is

 

Hey, Cobblestone,

     He is… (from Colossians 1:15). Please hold that thought.

     Do you think it’s possible to know something so well that you no longer understand it? I do. Some things seem automatic, given, to the point of not bothering to understand how or why they work. Toss a small child into the air – what could possibly go wrong?

     Please be advised: Nothing is automatic.

     Go ahead, toss the small child. Toss her high enough to give her a thrill – but not high enough to bounce her head off the ceiling. Toss her straight up so she’ll come straight back – unless you have another intended receiver with advance knowledge of the play. There’s a reason – and one reason only – why things turn out well when they’re done right and poorly when they’re done wrong. Jesus is the one and only reason. He is. Hadn’t thought of that one? I’m not surprised; it slips away from me, too – more often than I care to confess.

     Look past the decaying Halloween displays, past the more up-to-date Christmas light shows, and every once in a while you’ll spot a little banner proclaiming, “Jesus is the Reason for the Season.” True, that – and so much more.

     For in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell… (Colossians 1:19). Jesus is not only the reason for the season, but also the reason we have seasons, or any need for seasons at all. Without Jesus, the chair you’re sitting in disappears. The floor of your house won’t catch you because your house is not there. Neither is the earth in which your house was founded. The small child you tossed into the air is now lost in deep space.

     All the power that spoke all things out of nothing, established the orbit of every heavenly body, and makes your lungs able to pull oxygen from ordinary air – Jesus. Ever since there was something, there has never been nothing. And Jesus is the reason…

For by him all things were created, in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or authorities—all things were created through him and for him. And he is before all things, and in him all things hold together (1:16-17). 

     And yet…

    All the fullness of God chose to make his appearance, like every human since the first two, through all the travail and humility and sloppiness of human birth. Joseph and Mary greeted all the fullness of God, laid him in a manger, and immediately had to figure out how to be a family of three in the day-to-day. All the fullness of God decided to take the long route: And Jesus increased in wisdom and in stature and in favor with God and man (Luke 2:52). All the fullness of God was tempted as we are, yet without sin (Hebrews 4:15). All the fullness of God stood undaunted as the haughty Roman governor, looking straight into the eyes of Truth, spluttered, “What is truth?” (John 18:38). All the fullness of Godfor the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame (Hebrews 12:2). All the fullness of God – not some portion thereof, not however much fits in an infant-sized package, not just whatever it took to do three years of ministry in Palestine… no, all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell in our Savior and King, and dwells at this moment, and dwells forever.

     Try to come up with one word to encapsulate the forgoing truth. I dare you. Amazing? Terrifying? Baffling? Try to do it with ten words. I double-dare you. You’ll need better words than I’ve ever heard spoken. Even Paul, the original writer, used twelve – and he was under direct inspiration from God.

     If we’ve lost the wonder of Christmas – and for the greatest part, I believe we have – maybe that’s because we’ve become too familiar, actually, with the wonder. Too many passing seasons. Too many ho-hum readings of the story. Too many distractions. It’s been a long time, hasn’t it, since Paul sent that colossal letter to the Colossians? But I also believe the wonder is recoverable, and by simplifying rather than complicating, we can encounter this season – indeed, all seasons – like the children we truly are. If I were to choose, not one word or ten words, but two, I would circle back on these:

     He is… ( from Colossians 1:15, remember?)   

     He is the image of the invisible God

    He is… the firstborn of all creation

    He is… before all things

    He is… the head of the body, the church

    He is… the beginning

    He is… the firstborn from the dead

    He is… preeminent.

    And as if that weren’t enough, he’s coming again… suddenly! (See Revelation 22:20).

     If you and I were to be so bold – bold in the Lord, of course – as to simplify further from two words to one, we would certainly be left not with an ordinary word, but with an extraordinary name. Speak the name, Church, even before you see it written…

     Jesus.

 There-it-is... wonder, recovered.

 

Grace and Peace (because He is) and Merry Christmases,

 

John