Enthralled

"The Lord has made everything beautiful in its time". Solomon.

Have you ever wondered why we spend so much time and industry seeking to employ the pinnacle of our modern technology to create something which, we hope, will emulate or at the very least correspond at some level to what we are?

Why do we so want something like that?

Why aren't we pouring those massive resources into devising and then constructing something that is entirely different from ourselves - something devised that is so absolutely 'other' to us? Why is 'the future' something which is perceived as something which presumably enhances and elevates the human?

What is it, in other words, about us that we consider worth saving?

Is it because, from what we can actually state, that we appear to be the only material part of the visual universe that have the capacity to stop and ask questions like "Who am I? What am I?".

Thinkers like the late Roger Scruton argued that it was precisely because of these issues that we bothered to pursue the likes of art and science to establish our place and significance amidst the realm in which we exist.

The most telling shock any of us undergo in our days here is not the joys or the trials of our common life, but the moment when an awareness of what is so much more profound and enduring than us pierces our presumed notions of what we are and begins to make us aware of a wisdom and splendour behind the majesty of what is. Such a moment of transition, of overwhelming revelation, re-defines the common into the miraculous and the barely comprehended into a realm of inexhaustible wonder.

It resonates with us like a child enjoying the genuine magic of a Christmas morning, or a writer suddenly capturing an idea that he instantly knows in the depths of his marrow will amaze and entrap his audience by its originality and surprise.

Inspiration in the "composing" of a work of astonishing charm that staggers us, in comprehension continually frolics upon our consciousness in a manner that seeks to cheerfully whisper of a wisdom and elegance akin to a Dickensian apparition of joy - to intoxicate our reductionism with an expanse of revelation.

Herein then we find an uncommon jewel uncovered in both the weaving of an artistic masterpiece or the unpacking of a ground-breaking mathematical formula - we are drawn to sourcing an underlying splendour which, via our engagement, pours into our realm to allow a previously untapped spring to flow and form in concert with our gifts to elevate our days - to express a fraction of the unseen and to enthral and spur us to further discovery.

Such wonder is upon us continually, and yet, is barely comprehended in respect to the 'message' it is seeking to convey. Take the case of non-utilitarian beauty. Non-Adaptive order, as it defined in science, is everywhere, from the numerous variety in the forms of leaves to the concentric nature of flowers. Such forms have absolutely no survival function and yet, they pervade the natural world. Such patterns are quite extraordinarily exquisite, but they carry no actual biological function, leaving us with a remarkable paradox as we observe and appreciate such expressions of something so fundamental to life, yet totally beyond the utilitarian.

Non- adaptive elaboration speaks directly to our aesthetic and creative character, finding resonance with our seemingly innate ability to engage with such beauty and be inspired by this- to 'see', in other words, something teetering upon the transcendent; a pointer to mind reflected in both creativity and what has been created.

Such texturing, variation, distinction and elaboration for no required functional purpose clearly speak to an intention - to weave a particular manner of splendour into the natural order which would allow our cognitive abilities to comprehend and appreciate a richness which requires appreciation and prompts us to look and wonder at the true intent in this realm and relationship to this.

Beauty, be it within a painting, a sonnet, or a mathematical axiom, requires and gains our attention and engages us at a truly profound level which opens our ability to revel in the exquisite. Remove such elements from the nature of reality or from our consciousness, and the universe would be a very cold, austere place with nothing beyond rudimentary survival to offer.

We do not live in such squalor. We inhabit a realm bursting with opulence and splendour.

Perhaps we should ask ourselves why.

Perhaps the reason we don't is because when properly considered, the existence of such beauty leads us to some quite troubling conclusions...

The Indelible Mark

 "Once I was told that love could fly. Yeah, but it's been so long, I just can't remember why". Randy Stonehill - Keep Me Running.

David Wood is on superb form here on the matter of our being made in the image of God from the first chapter of Genesis, and why it still resonates very deeply with us today.

Being comfortable with 'a long way to go'

"Make it your ambition to lead a quiet life, mindful of your own business and working with your own hands, just as we said to you, so that your days here may win the respect of those outside, and not be dependent upon anybody".

1 Thessalonians 4: 11 and 12.

I read a really insightful piece on Mockingbird this week on the, ahem, fine living of someone you may have heard of - a rather significant person named Abraham. What is so good about it is how the author plays with some of the most popular slips-ups people can make (about God and neighbour) and shows how they just apply readily, naturally, to this man of faith, as of course, they often do to us, So the next time you think 'oh... what did I do that for?', just look at these helpful examples.

Also just wanted to point you here in respect to a new book that's on the way in a very similar tone to this article, to help us keep ourselves firmly planted in what really counts.

Peace

 "And through Christ to reconcile to Himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, having made peace through the blood of His cross". Colossians 1:20.

This morning I watched, a tad distressed, as a huddle of Christians, no doubt seeking to do what they thought best, badgered a soul who had confessed they still struggle with their sins.

"You must repent", they cried, and keep on so reforming yourself until sin is the farthest thing from you.

Genuine repentance allows us to look beyond ourselves. Like the thief who "repented" (changed his mind) as he hung dying next to Jesus, he came to understand that only what was outside of him, what was being done for him, actually mattered, then and now - because it is only the life and the death of another that provides, entirely, the full measure, of what forever reconciles us to God and marries us to full redemption - Jesus confirmed that in His reply to that wretch who cried the one thing worth anything in this broken world - Jesus, please help me.

With that in mind, here's a message that will encourage us to see that manner of help for each of us.

(Oh, and I sought to share the same with everyone engaged in that dialogue this morning).

The Inhabiting

 "He made darkness His pavilions round about Him - dark waters and thick clouds". Psalm 18:11.

Ever get one of those days when lots of what has been chuntering around in your thoughts over several days, perhaps weeks, suddenly begins to take form and lead to something quite profound?

It all started for me a while back - a few weeks ago, when I started reading a book entitled "Your God is too Glorious". It was a work which demanded all of my attention, but it also requires a slow read - not because it's prose was particularly difficult or dense, but because it was opening and scenting the musty antechambers of my heart and mind with an alluring, refreshing invitation to Gods fathomless beneficence in a fashion that I had certainly only glimpsed on some of the rarest moments in my life (hopefully, that will arouse your curiosity!).

I'm not going to say anymore here about the treasures of this gem beyond a reference to the start of the third chapter - Godforsaken hangouts, where the author speaks about a particular spot in nature where he would often be alone with God and where, occasionally in the glints of morning light, he would sense the 'veil' between here and eternity was incredibly thin, like a mist you could walk though into the land beyond.

It's spring here at the moment

This time of year always makes me vividly aware of God's great deeds in creation, and as a result, I'm usually drawn as well back to those opening chapters of scripture commonly known as the creation account.

For the last few (around a decade!) years, I've been fascinated about the nature in which this work is addressed, especially the 'six days' process, which is marked by the 'there was an evening, and a morning' framework. Yes, I know this becomes a cornerstone of God's people understanding the gift of the rest -seventh- day (the sabbath beginning at sunset), but why is the special moments ("bara") of the creation process marked in this particular fashion in respect to the work of creation itself? Why, in other words, did God choose to act creatively in those periods from sunset to sunrise?

An unexpected answer came knocking this week in the form of a video from a relatively new ministry. I'm not going to unpack the brilliant insight here this brother shares from his own studies ( - the video does it really well, so sit back and enjoy), but once I watched it, several things quickly fell into place.

After giving it a view, just stop for a moment and think about these important matters:

The hours of darkness at the Cross.

Solomon informing us that the Lord dwells in a 'thick darkness' (1 Kings 8:12).

The opening verses of Genesis 1 - especially meditate on the latter part of verse two - the earth being empty, enveloped in darkness, and God "hovering" over these depths.

There is something remarkably curbing here, in respect to ourselves. It 'fixes' us to the gravity, the phenomenal "stillness" of what its seeking to express - there, amidst a "weight' of impenetrable stuff, God is calmly at work, poised to speak, to touch, to gently inform with His ordaining that light 'be', and with that moment, impress upon the wax of what had been faceless the indelible mark of His majestic handiwork. From that single moment, all that is encompassed in the spheres of time and space would be so lovingly illustrated with a Word spanning and sustaining all.

This, I suspect, is why God chose to place the 'days' of creation in these six frames of the evening leading to a new dawn. With each 'dividing' comes a new springing of greater revelation of His grandeur and majesty within His handiwork, furnishing a particular realm - the earth - to the point where it is a fitting habitation for the persons who will speak regally of His own nature.

It's quite a drama, and it may help you look at what you read in that opening, and many other scriptures, in a manner that aids in future days.

May the Lord who caused that light to shine through the darkness, equally light our minds and hearts, giving us a knowledge of Himself in the radiance of the face of Jesus Christ.

The Raising

"Why do you seek the living among the dead?".

Today is indeed the 'first day' of the new creation. The true Son of Righteousness is risen, with 'healing in His wings' - the healing of our world by His reconciling death.

The beauty of this is woven into the very fabric of creation on the third day (Genesis 1:11) and throughout the narrative of the story of God's people, as Chad Bird shows in this helpful examination of Luke's account of the resurrection.

Let us rejoice and delight in the goodness and mercy of the Lord.

G o l g o t h a

 "To minimise the vicarious sacrificial nature of the death of Christ, the high noon on Calvary when Christ faced God's irreducible law, is to miss the unifying drama of the bible... the pinnacle of the scripture's story of the law involves a personal substitute by which the extreme accusation of that law against the human race is absorbed in its absolute and total character into an innocent man.

Why did Christ die? He died to atone for the sins of the whole world".

Paul Zahl - Grace in Theology.

Lasting grace is an act so rich and deep, so enduring, it will forever change the one who bathes in its beauty. We are so bathed in the waters of baptism when, naked of all but our desperate need, God buries into the atoning death of His beloved, and raises us with Him, dressed in the glory of His righteousness and everlasting life.

This is why the cross is our focal-point.

Here, we become sustained by His precious body and redeeming blood.

Here, we witness the 'grain and grape' of this present creation changed and transformed, as we participate in a life from His transforming wounds which marries us to the new creation - the coming dawn of eternal joy.

A Happy Easter.