Easter Thinking

"If our flesh is not renewed, then the Lord has not actually redeemed us with His life and death; then the Eucharistic cup does not make us sharers in His blood, and the broken bread, sharers in His body.
The heart of the truth is that the Word of God actually became flesh, and it was with that body, He actually redeemed us in His life, death and resurrection. As Paul puts it, 'In Him, though His blood, we have been redeemed".
Irenaeus of Lyons (2nd century Christian theologian).

With many thanks to Kayceeus for permission to use her image.

Isn't it lovely, wrote an artist friend to me today, to sense the regenerative power of Spring in the air again?
We all know there's something pretty amazing about this time of year - the days becoming longer, warmer, the earth bringing forth a plethora of colour and richness. Everything speaks of a fresh encounter with the marvel of life, which breaks out from the coldness and seemingly iron grip of winter. It's not much of surprise, then, that many ancient religions cycled around the 'magic' of nature's fertility, but as the wise Epimenides pointed out to the Athenian Greeks around 600 BC, to reside at such a level is to stay in ignorance of the One behind such marvels.
The 'natural' victory of life over death we see creation play out every year whispers loudly concerning a deep reality at the heart of things - death is a usurper, preying upon our current demeaned "life", but things were and will be very different.

The heart of Christianity is an event that truly staggers us. The God who made us was not prepared to leave us in a state of futility and destruction when we walked away from His care, but this God Himself came to us, became as us, to suffer, to draw the sting of sin and death, to overcome these, and to give us a new life as real as the renewal of spring.

C S Lewis puts this so well - a quote which came swiftly to mind when I viewed the image above this morning:

"One has the image of a diver, stripping off layer after layer until naked,
going down through the green, sunlit water into the pitch black, cold, freezing depths,
down, to the very mud and slime,
and then, up again, lungs almost bursting, breaking back into the sunshine,
holding the dripping thing taken from the depths...
The thing is us, but with it, all of nature - the redeemed creation"

(The Grand Miracle).

As the flowers bloom, and the beauty clothes our world, that's worth thinking about...

Getting it...

"It's not the Sun up in the sky.... It's the Son of God".
Uhura - Bread & Circuses.

A faith that is based on love - revealed by God's Son,
that enables unity that transforms the world....

James T Kirk is right - won't it be wonderful to see that come about in it's entirety?

Twixt the Pain and the Passion

Faith, which springs from charity is so very necessary to this present life,
that without it, we cannot continue in the world". Martin Luther



Last summer, amidst some very sorrowful weather, the gray days were suddenly warmed
when a new drama was shown on national television. Whilst providing a somewhat embroidered rendition of its subject, it spoke loudly of how, amidst the mess and chaos of this world, we can all be touched by the unmistakable, and on occasion overwhelming beauty and grace which we see woven into so much, especially amidst the pain and passion of our lives.

This superb video, taken from images from the drama and focusing on one strand of the story, which was certainly about the great need for redemption, reflects something of the delight of this production.

Desperate Romantics, which reveled in the highs and lows of the Pre-Raphelite artists, resonated deeply regarding the roots of my own artistic inspiration, and spoke well of how, amidst my work as a photographer now, artists are commonly seeking the deeper gems.

Christ, in His nature and work, shows the world how faith, working through love, transforms the tatters of our splintered existence to radiate something restored and whole - as with the light seen through a rainbow. Perhaps our gaze is still often small, only seeing a reflection of this, in a puddle on the ground, but once that 'rainbow' is there, the promise of a day when our sight is clear, our heads look up, is certain and sure.

Beauty can be a balm to our weary journey, when true faith and love are at home in our souls.

ears to hear, eyes to see.

"The God who made the world and everything in it...He Himself gave to mankind life and breath and all we see". Acts 17:24.

Why is it that 'religion' can be little more than candy floss, which is employed for all the wrong reasons, to cover the cracks?

I was reading a book today, supposedly giving a 'christian' insight into beauty. The introduction jogged along about our living 'between' awakening and sleep (birth and death), and how we found our ground of meaning, our shelter, here, by observing beauty, which granted some insight to the divine - the beauty of God. The author referred to the ancients, especially the Greeks, as an example of that, but there's the problem.

The Greeks certainly had a notion of the order of things, and sought to emulate that in their religion and art, but it was a beauty which alienated, not genuinely esteemed the value of the world. Women were viewed as an ultimate embodiment of evil - the physical incarnation of all that was vile- the physical world itself, and artists were only tolerated because of their skills to express the true goal - to step beyond the immediate to the spiritual perfection beyond.
It amazes me just how much Christian spirituality still hankers after this dualistic nightmare, but Paul before the Greeks speaks of a very different beauty - a God who works with the earth, and redeems only by the salvation of all He has made, for this is His work.

Genuine truth and beauty can never be divorced from the 'common' life we have been given - the bestowal of charisma, notes Paul, to all men because of God's grace. It is amidst the bare breath, the whole of life that we are to see something of His work, not merely in some ecstatic moment of gnostic transport.

Beauty of any import is found here, amidst the trial and the joy.
Philosophy or religion may wish us to divorce God from such a vision, but life teaches us differently.

Beyond these small conceits...

"Men of Athens, I perceive that in every way you are religious".
Paul at Mars Hill -Acts 17:22.

It's always popular to adhere to what is commonly termed as "spirituality" - the notion that we genuinely enrich ourselves and others by ascribing to the 'good' aspects of our humanity... employing our virtue or morality, perhaps ascribing to some (not to determined) perception of the divine - deism or gnosticism perhaps, but in truth ascribing to something which never totally or radically impinges upon the here and now, in the 'lifestyle choices', the compass of our own suppositions on the nature of things.

In the week before His death, Jesus challenged those who held a similar status quo in Jerusalem,
telling the people that these 'spiritual' folk were truly to be avoided for there was no genuine substance to their words or deeds - they went through the motions, but there was nothing but a void, a total lack of genuine spiritual insight and maturity at the heart of who they were and what they did.

In the same fashion, Paul comes before the 'learning' of his age, and finds it wanting. Why?
Because it does not address aright the basic questions of who and what we are - of how we were made and why we now have a propensity to a 'spirituality' that is crooked. It also fails to understand that the world in which we live is not a 'closed' system, but one often touched and thereby altered by the work of God.

The same man, notes Paul to the Athenians, that God raised from death, calls us to change, for there will be a day when our race will be judged by Him. Jesus Christ calls us to move beyond the shallowness of what is deemed 'right' - spiritual, by us, to a life replete with the significance God has given.

The day is approaching when God breathes new life into all He has made and redeemed. Does our 'vision', our first steps into spirituality begin to furnish us for the 'largeness', the totality of that reality, or actually diminish and negate the true 'glory' of His handiwork?

Amidst the lovers and the mourners

"Are you alive ?"
Caprica 6 - Battlestar Galactica

Almost a decade ago, my wife and I ended our twenty years of living in the South Eastern counties of England with a trip to the movies to see the splendid Bicentennial Man. The film is filled with memorable moments, but what makes this tale resonate so deeply is the desire, the journey, of the central character, Andrew, from being an oddity as a robot, to fulfilling his actual potential by becoming fully human.
Through the traumas of the Martin family that originally purchases, then adopts, and finally marries this person, we gain an insight into the 'natural' human condition - one marked by pain, suffering and death, interwoven with the precious richness of love, communion and intimacy.
It is as Andrew begins to imbibe both the beauties and tragedies of our kind for himself, that his goal becomes singular - to be one of us, fully human, even to the point of death.

I left the cinema that evening deeply moved, reminded not only of the wonder of our lives, but also reflecting upon the one who came as a man and truly tasted death for us all.

I had no idea at that time, as life changed from what it had been for the two principal decades of my adult life, that Kay and I were about to be taken by currents which would change everything - that I would loose her to cancer within a few short years, but I often think about how that film, and other events that followed, sought to impress the theological weave of creation, fall and redemption I had become aware of in the 90's, into the very fabric of everyday life - Christ, like Andrew in the film, would be there to not simply witness but profoundly accompany us through those days so pierced with joy and pain.

There is a certain excitement to sharing the truths that underlie our faith when unwrapping them properly for the first time - a little like children at Christmas - but that is very different to the moments when God truly becomes the Paraclete upon the threshing floor of experience.
The realities with which we have to do impinge upon our breath, our bones, as well as our thoughts and deeds.

Christianity teaches us well; much of life now must necessarily remain unfinished - sin and death prevent completion, but the love He sheds abroad within our failing hearts is a sure and certain investment of what will come to be.
The dreams, the joys, the ardent promises that mark our times, that define our intent, are now broken pieces amidst a pavement cracked by the woes that wound, and the fury of doubt and fear which assault and assail us with the taunt of physical death. The darkness, indeed, is often palpable, and within ourselves, there is no aid, but there is more to be said, even before the of very claim of death.

Amidst the inspired words of Solomon. we find a mercy which will bind the broken heart -
Such waters cannot quench your love. These floods cannot drown it.
There is a love which is stronger than death.

Andrew's story ends in death, as, naturally, all ours would as well, but the true man, the 'proper' man who came from heaven has conquered death itself in His own death, and His life truly allows us to become the people of a renewed, restored creation.

The future not only of this world, but of the Godhead itself, will be expressed in a love that has redeemed heaven and earth. There, then, is something that ultimately empties of all woe, and qualifies in fact, all our present trials, making them truly of value, and opening the door to becoming fully ourselves, through His love.
There is a better day, a better ending, and it is found in the God who reconciles by love.

Seeing True

"That's the day I realized that there's this entire life behind things...this incredibly benevolent force... Sometimes there's so much beauty in the world I feel like I can't take it".

Ricky Fitts - American Beauty.

I was very interested to learn this week that some of those who had seen the stunning movie Avatar, had been feeling greatly troubled, and in some cases, suicidal, as a result, seeking to equate such wonder with the pain of our own world.

One viewer wrote: "I woke up this morning after watching Avatar for the first time yesterday, the world seemed ... gray. It was like my whole life, everything I've done and worked for, lost its meaning...(we) live in a dying world".

This rings true to something I have been reflecting about for sometime.

In 1 Kings chapter 10, we read of the royal visit of a Queen to the court of the great King, Solomon. This state visit occurred because news about the wonder of Solomon's great city had traveled across the ancient world, and people wanted to see such a spectacle first hand.
The impact of not only the buildings and wealth, but the wisdom this man had gained was palpable. Not unlike those so deeply struck by the film, the Queen herself was overwhelmed by the unique and distinct splendor of this place, which created genuine happiness in all of those who lived within its scope.

I've often wondered if the reaction of the Queen was in some sense a seed of inspiration for one of Solomon's own marvelous works - the poetry of devotion found in his Song of Songs, but one thing is for certain, the encounter with such beauty is both overwhelming and life-changing.

Perhaps it is one of the great sorrows of our times - that we very often cannot 'see' beauty in the fashion that many, like the astute Queen of Sheba, have done in times past. The encouraging gem gleaned from the Avatar example is that beauty can still overwhelm us, and thereby open our lives to a far richer and deeper reality woven into the fabric of our currently broken world.

There was a moment in the life of Jesus where His disciples were allowed to see Him transfigured, expressing something of His true glory and majesty to them. The result was immediate - they wanted to stay in that spot, in that moment, for the rest of their lives. I've often found when I'm confronted with the real Jesus of the Gospels, there is a two-fold response: a drawing that resonates in the deepest part of my soul, and a realization that I am not worthy of the wonder of the pure character of this Man - God's beloved Son. When we truly confront Jesus Christ, we encounter something which leaves that ancient Queen's encounter plain in comparison, for as Paul declares, all the marvel and beauty of creation is made and sustained by Him.

This world, even amidst all it's trouble, often furnishes us with moments of striking clarity, where we glance upon that deeper realm, which this earth, this tent of flesh we inhabit, is meant to know, meant to share, meant to make us truly whole.

If inspired by the beauty which surrounds us, rest a while beneath the shade of the Gospels, and learn of this one that the whole world has been talking about for some 2,000 years. Truly, there is a beauty here to make us all what we were intended to be.