Parousia…Victorious Secret

“And I set my heart to know wisdom and to know madness and folly. I perceived that this also is grasping for the wind.”
–Ecclesiastes 1:17

Thirty-two teams enter. Only one stands victorious. Yes. It’s the Super Bowl. The National Football League championship game — which is an unofficial national holiday here in the US — was held yesterday. The Arizona Cardinals went up against the Pittsburgh Steelers. The Steelers away with the Vince Lombardi trophy. The Cardinals left empty handed.

Actually, thirty other teams suffered the same fate as the Cardinals. They failed to achieve their goal of winning a championship. Each year, just one team that reaches the playoffs finishes the year victoriously. The rest hold out hope that next year will be different for them, but they will have to wait until kickoff in September to start the quest anew.

Football season, though, never completely ends. During the off-season veteran players navigate the waters of free agency. The teams go through the rookie draft to restock their rosters. There are mini camps, OTA’s (off-season training activities), and training camp. All of this begins in about a month from now, and it’s very hopeful time for millions of fans like me whose team did not hoist the championship trophy overhead.

Yet, in the recesses of our minds, fans and players alike harbor the dread of knowing that our team has only a one in thirty-two chance of winning the final game. All of the practices, meetings, film sessions, weightlifting, conditioning, and physical therapy bring about the desired result of victory for only one team and its supporters. For the rest of us, we cry out with the wisdom writer, “Vanity of vanities. All is vanity.”

Even so, if you listen carefully to the players and coaches of the winning team, you may detect a similar note in their victory song. “We’ll celebrate this one, but we have to get out there and get ready for next year.” As sweet as victory is, the competitive spirit awaits fresh challenges. This present triumph will mean very little when the next game begins — and there is always a next game.

Football is grasping for the wind.

But it’s not only football. Existential vicissitudes permeate the entirety of life. Hair changes color. Relationships evolve. We gain wisdom, friends, wealth. We lose youth, health, and eventually life. The evolutionary process of “becoming” leaves no possibility for endless possession. Whatever is in your hands at this moment will be gone sometime — no matter how hard you work for it, how desperately you clasp it, or how deeply you crave it.

Everything is grasping for the wind.

Victory lasts for only a moment, and so does defeat. The ancient sage pursued wisdom and foolishness, and he found that neither one brings lasting satisfaction. This truth may feel overwhelmingly depressing. Are all of our pursuits a waste? Is everything just one big illusion, a waterless mirage giving false hope and fueling eternal meaninglessness? Is life nothing more than a solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short cosmic game that we are all destined to lose simply by playing?

Defining a successful life in terms of possession will always bring about a profound dissatisfaction. Wealth, power, prestige, respect, fame, knowledge, and health always wane. Eventually we lost it all. Nevertheless, there a victorious secret that empowers you to embrace and experience an abundant life.

If you try to clutch onto this moment as the next one emerges, you will find both slipping through your fingers. The false promise of possession results in misery, oppression, and futility. Perhaps you felt elation at winning the trophy yesterday, but where are you today? Are you living with the joy of what was, or are you mourning that the bliss of success doesn’t last forever? Are you heartbroken at your loss and exasperated at the prospect of a long time passing before the next opportunity presents itself? Have you abandoned the present and attached yourself to a story about another time?

Living with an open hand instead of a clenched fist enables you to welcome each moment on its own terms. This current time may call for a shout of celebration or tears of defeat, but the next one may not. Being grounded in the ever-unfolding present gives you the flexibility to live without a gnawing sense of vanity nibbling away your heart and mind.

The siren song of dissatisfaction entices us to seek fulfillment through possession, but a small still voice whispers the victorious secret, “Leave the past in behind. Don’t rush to the future. The kingdom of God is here now.” All of life is imbued with tremendous significance in its moment — whatever its moment is. The victorious secret is that the wind we so anxiously and unsuccessfully try to grasp is the divine breath that graciously breathes us all always right now.

–By Kevin A. Beck

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Parousia is a Transmillennial publication published weekly by Presence International. You can get Parousia delivered to your inbox when you sign up for your free subscription.

Parousia…What Mountain?

I say to you, if you have faith as a mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, “Move from here to there,” and it will move; and nothing will be impossible for you.
– Jesus, Matthew 17:20

Truly I say to you, if you have faith and do not doubt, you will not only do what was done to the fig tree, but even if you say to this mountain, ‘Be taken up and cast into the sea,’ it will happen.
– Jesus, Matthew 21:21

You may have seen the television commercial for the Toyota Rav4. An SUV travels through the countryside, into an urban environment, and returns to the great outdoors. In the background, the Scottish songwriter Donovan sings his 1967 hit, “First there is a mountain then there is no mountain. First there is a mountain, then there is no mountain, then there is.”

I think about this song as I gaze out my window and see the front range of the Rocky Mountains staring back at me. The ancient ridges and crags ascend 14,115 feet to the summit of what the Ute tribe called Sun Mountain and what is popularly known as Pikes Peak. The span and scale of the mountains overwhelms my senses. No one can absorb it all with a single glance. It’s simply too massive. Too overpowering. Contemplating it swells my heart and subsumes me under a wave of sheer awe.

So when I hear Jesus telling his listeners to remove mountains by merely talking to them, I implicitly understand that he’s speaking figuratively and spiritually. He’s not instructing people how to transport geological formations. Jesus has something more significant in mind. The Nazarene encourages his followers to cultivate the smallest kernel of faith so that it will bring about monumental results.

Today faith has become a cliché and a byword suggesting something akin to stupidity. Being a person of faith has come to connote an individual who holds to his opinions regardless of the evidence. Somehow, I don’t believe this is what Jesus had in mind.

Jesus’ teaching springs up as an outgrowth of his message concerning the imminent fulfillment of God’s promises on his generation. “The kingdom of God is at hand.” What does that have to do with mountain-moving faith? Jesus called people along the Galilean hillside to believe the gospel — the kingdom announcement. He invited them as the firstfruits of Israel to participate with him in the messianic work of transformation. Through their faith in God’s word, they would move the largest mountain they could imagine — Sinai. In its place, Mount Zion would materialize.

In his famous allegory of Hagar and Sarah, the apostle Paul understood Sinai to signify Israel — and hence humanity — under the burden of law. With the arrival of the New Jerusalem, Israel and humanity would be delivered into ultimate liberty. For Paul, these “things are symbolic. For these are the two covenants: the one from Mount Sinai which gives birth to bondage, which is Hagar — for this Hagar is Mount Sinai in Arabia, and corresponds to Jerusalem which now is, and is in bondage with her children — but the Jerusalem above is free, which is the mother of us all” (Galatians 4:23-26).

The New Testament book of Hebrews contrasts the two mountains. “You have not come to a mountain that can be touched, a blazing fire, and darkness, and gloom, and a tempest, and the sound of a trumpet, and a voice whose words made the hearers beg that not another word be spoken to them. . . But you have come to Mount Zion and to the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem, and to innumerable angels in festal gathering, and to the assembly of the firstborn who are enrolled in heaven, and to God the judge of all, and to the spirits of the righteous made perfect, and to Jesus, the mediator of a new covenant, and to the sprinkled blood that speaks a better word than the blood of Abel” (Hebrews 12:18-24).

First there is a mountain. Then there is no mountain. Then there is.

Zion, the mountain of the Lord’s house as envisioned by Isaiah, has been established as the highest of mountains. The mountain has filled the whole earth, as Daniel foresaw. It is a mountain that cannot be shaken, a mountain that will not be moved, a mountain upon which God has destroyed the shroud that enfolds all people (Isaiah 25:7). So what does that mean for us?

Donovan’s song might give us a clue. The lyrics emerged from the observations of a Chinese teacher who lived more than a thousand years ago. Qingyuan Weixin reflected on his life’s journey, “I thought that mountains were mountains and waters were waters. Later when I studied personally with my master, I entered realization and understood that mountains are not mountains, waters are not waters. Now that I abide in the way of no-seeking, I see as before that mountains are just mountains, waters are just waters (The Art of Pilgrimage by Phil Cousineau).

Looking at your life with the eye of the flesh or the eye of the mind, you may see unscalable mountains. How can anyone get over chronic pain, depression, loneliness, alienation, or fear? Surveying our world with the same vision, we might see ourselves standing at the foot of a towering mountain. War, poverty, terrorism, and pollution threaten our very existence. We believe these mountains are impossible to climb. The air is too thin, the slope too severe, the perils too dangerous.

Whether it is for us personally or for society generally, our constant desire-for-more places mountains before us. “I want this but can’t have it because a mountain stands in my may.” In our cravings we’ve become blind to our greatest possession — a gift than cannot be surpassed. “He who did not spare His own Son, but delivered him over for us all, how will He not also with him freely give us all things?” (Romans 8:32)

When we look higher with the eye of the spirit and see Mount Zion, the deceptive mountains dissolve because we become empowered to hike one step at a time. Rather than seeing ourselves as people struggling to reach a summit, we’re walking with God at this point in this moment. “What are you, O mighty mountain?” (Zechariah 4:7). This awareness helps us appreciate God’s divine immanence thereby allowing us to approach and accept every mountain in its own right. Zion is Zion, therefore the mountain that is not a mountain is just a mountain.

First there is a mountain. Then there is no mountain. Then there is.

Because God is all-in-all, even the mountains have their place. They have become integrated into the vast cosmic network of being. Don’t try to go around the mountains. That only makes your expedition longer and more arduous. Climb the mountains by not climbing them. Just walk knowing that God is walking with you. When you do, you will discover an elevated perspective of life, yourself, and God.
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Originally published on August 25, 2008. (c) Presence International. Parousia is a free Transmillennial publication of Presence. To receive Parousia in your inbox each week click here.

Sheepish Banter

I just published a new article on the Presence site. It is based on Jesus’ story about the shepherd who leaves the 99 sheep in order to bring back the one who went astray. The premise is: What do you suppose the sheep talked about until the shepherd got back.

It’s essentially a fable. If you’re kind enough to read it, I’d love to hear your impressions. You’ll probably recognize the sheep.

The title is “Sheepish Banter.” And it starts like this:
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“Ninety-seven. Ninety-eight. Ninety-nine. Alright, we’re missing one.”

Adam had wandered off. The littlest lamb had gone astray. So the Shepherd tightened his sandals and grabbed his staff.

“Don’t worry,” he told the rest of the sheep. “Adam couldn’t have gotten far. I’m sure he’s just on the other side of that hill. I’ll climb it and bring him right back. The rest of you will be safe here in the pen. I’ll be back soon.”

Read more when you click here.

Parousia…Look Up!

“And I saw heaven opened”
– John, Revelation 19:11

Go outside. If you’re already there, that’s great. If you’re indoors, move away from your desk, couch, or zafu and head toward the nearest exit.

Once you’ve extricated yourself from whatever edifice you may be in, look up. Tilt your head back and lift your eyes toward the skies. What do you see?

In our postindustrial world, we spend long hours gawking at electronically generated images. Our computer screen, flat panel television, and Blackberry have become the primary items we focus on and through. While I’m grateful for these new virtual worlds, it’s important to understand that they are housed within a more ancient real world: the cosmos.

Traditional western thinking — religious and secular — often depicts the universe as harsh, depraved, and unruly. Popular theologies consider it to have fallen from a primordial pristine condition. Subsequently, the natural world is supposedly in conflict with the spiritual world and in desperate need of an extreme makeover. Modernism saw the planet as a machine to be harnessed in order to meet any and all human desires. The excesses of Modernism have led to the Postmodern critique portraying the world and humanity as being at war with each other — we’re trying to kill Gaia, and she is trying to protect herself by killing us.

There may be bits of truth in all of these viewpoints. The cosmos is an apparently chaotic place. It has vast resources that support human life, and we have habitually treated the planet as an infinite waste dump. Yet the prevailing narratives depicting humanity as separated from the broader universe ignore our mutual interconnection. Even Genesis has humanity arising from the dust of the earth. This suggests integration, not isolation.

In The Great Work, Thomas Berry points out the multiple layers of cosmic reality. Humanity lives on a planet situated within a solar system and “beyond the sun is our own galaxy and beyond that the universe of galactic systems.” Everything is nested within a complex structure of embedded reciprocity.

Because the outside world houses our inner world, we discover profound spiritual inspiration when we contemplate our exterior domain. Berry notes that our “psychic nourishment and support come from the natural environment.” We neglect our place and presence in the cosmos to our own impoverishment.

As a shepherd, David experienced a rich inner life through years of outdoor living. He recognized the changing of the seasons, the flora and fauna, and the soil. He could read the sky, the wind, and the flocks. No wonder when musing upon the glories of his surroundings, he exclaimed in wonder, “When I consider Your heavens, the work of Your fingers, the moon and the stars, which You have ordained, what is man that You are mindful of him, and the son of man that You visit him?” (Psalm 8:3-4). The first step stimulating David to reach this place of enraptured praise was his consideration of the heavens. He looked up.

Centuries earlier, God invited Abraham to lift his gaze. “Look up at the heavens and count the stars” (Genesis 15:5). In looking upward Abraham received the promise of an immeasurable blessing that became realized in John’s vision. When John looked up, he saw heaven opened. Mimicking the rip in the temple veil, the torn sky assured John of unfettered human access to God.

Without reflecting on our environment, we reduce the ways in which we can appreciate God and diminish the ways we can identify ourselves as partakes in the divine nature. So follow the example of the sweet Psalmist, Abraham, and John. Go out and look up. You will discover a deep mystical resonance in your heart as you peer into the limitless heavens.

In taking the physical step of going outside and looking up, you’ll discern a new sense of presence in your place. Our universe just is — a welcoming home for us to live, die, love, and thrive. Popular author Meredith Little reminds us, “The land is nonjudgmental enough to allow us to be our whole selves fully. Nature expresses its wholeness not through words but through its being, and that allows us to remember our own nature and step into that expression of ourselves.”

Maybe it’s been a while since you’ve gone outside to intentionally notice your world and your place in it. You may seem childlike as you stare upward in awe, but Jesus invites us to receive the kingdom of God like little children. Initially you may feel foolish when you go outside and look up, but where’s the folly in appreciating the glory of the physical creation?

Go outside, stretch out your arms, and look up. What do you see? Where do heaven, earth, and sea meet? What specific hue is the sky right now? Notice the clouds. Do you observe any stars, planets, comets? When you look up with the eye of the spirit, feel your heart expanding. Allow your inner self to soar. Let looking up be a living metaphor for hope, optimism, and sanguinity. See the heavens open and look directly into the eyes of God.
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Originally published on July 14, 2008. (c) Presence International. Parousia is a free Transmillennial publication of Presence. To receive Parousia in your inbox each week click here.

Parousia…Crazy

Besides football, my favorite television program is Law and Order: Criminal Intent. The plots are ripped from the headlines, but the sharp writers develop a depth to the characters that newspaper blurbs rarely mention. In Proustian fashion, something as small as a watch, a photograph, or a child’s toy opens vistas into worlds that we would normally stroll by casually.

The show invites viewers to appreciate the erratic machinations of the human mind. Our emotions, ideas, environment, background, obsessions, and choices combine in infinite degrees to create the unpredictable events of our lives.

I’m especially drawn to the lead character, Detective Bobby Goren, compellingly embodied by Vincent D’Onofrio. His eccentricities, observational skills, and deductive prowess might make you wonder what he (and the show’s writers) would notice about you. Trained in psychology, Goren deals with his mother who was plagued by emotional disease before her demise, and he constantly wrestles with his own demons.

Goren’s subtly alluring charm stems from his desire to accomplish more than catch the culprits. He’s interested in understanding why people do what they do — quite possibly in an attempt to better understand himself. And in his pursuit of self-comprehension we might discover a beginning point for our own journey of self-discovery.

In the engrossing episode Gone, Goren tracks a paranoid chess master, David Blake, suspected of murdering a young woman who arrived in New York in order to visit her fiancé’s family. As a boy, Blake blossomed with a prodigious gift for chess. He became a grand master and, subsequently, a pawn in US-USSR chess diplomacy during the 1970s. At one point, Blake broke the US embargo on Cuba by visiting the island to play in a tournament in which he ultimately won a million dollar prize.

By violating the embargo, Blake became subject to seizure of his assets and criminal prosecution. Being a genius, he invented ways to hide for over two decades. Meanwhile, he was unable to do the one thing he loved most — play chess at the highest levels. Any public appearance would have resulted in his immediate arrest. His inability to find an outlet matching his creative impulse drove Blake mad.

At the story’s climax, Goren places Blake in check causing the grandmaster to contemplate his next move while in police custody. In the dénouement, the ever-insightful Goren quips to his partner Alexandra Eams, “When you keep people from doing what they do best, it makes them insane.”

You may not know a rook from a bishop, but you might feel the stifling inability of fully expressing yourself. Many people live emotionally fused lives, believing that their will is what’s best for others. A son loves painting, but father wants him to be a doctor. A daughter has a passion for math, but her parents push her into business administration. A couple believes that God loves all people, but their religious authorities instruct them to keep their faith quiet.

Your heart cries out for a particular form of articulation but society, relationships, and institutions continually suppress your unique creativity. Without having what Virginia Woolf called “a room of one’s own,” frustration grows into irritation, anxiety, and despondency.

Perhaps this partially explains the intense disquiet felt in various religious communities. The common theme announced weekly affirms that our highest purpose is to glorify God, and we achieve that end primarily through the vehicle of the church, performing its rites and liturgies, and affirming the traditions of the particular fellowship. We’re left to tacitly infer that what we do best is maintaining the inner functions, financial health, and public appearance of the institution. We serve best, supposedly, when become human batteries energizing the matrix.

But what happens when what we do best comes into variance with the official policy? The hierarchy says that a twelve year old girl was born to become the wife of a fifty year old man. Or you can’t play the guitar because God approves of acapella music only. Or you can’t speak in public gatherings because you don’t have a Y chromosome. Or you must abandon the one night you have a week to spend with you family so that you can attend a group meeting. Must we persistently sacrifice our individuality for a supposedly greater good? When does the greater good include us?

Let’s assume that glorifying God might be what we do best. It’s a simple category error to conflate the glorification of God with the perpetuation of institutionalized religion. Jesus noted that the Sabbath had been made for humanity and not the other way around. Ideological enforcement of Sabbath regulations drove people to the point of madness so that they couldn’t celebrate the healing of a blind man or the feeding of hungry humans. Today, ideological enforcement of our religious traditions elicits similar lunacy.

How can we stop the insanity? The book of Revelation ends with a buoyant vision. A river of life proceeds from the divine throne. The river irrigates the Tree of Life whose fruit and leaves provide and promote healing. Here is God’s therapeutic word. Healing of heart, mind, and soul. We can begin to experience this healing by recognizing that God takes no pleasure in burdening you to the brink of psychosis. God’s concern is about your freedom, not your bondage. Your liberation, not your repression. Your flourishing, not your shrinking. Once we see this, we will stop confusing creedal dogmatism with God’s will.

If glorifying God is what we do best, what does that really mean? Once again, we look to Jesus who describes glory as loving God with all that we are and loving others likewise. This recognition reframes entirely our normal thought patterns concerning the substitution of stale religion for vibrant living. Importantly, it’s open to an infinite variety of expressions. Your incarnation of love creates new life as you breathe fresh air into our world.

You may already be aware of what you do best. If not, spend time with your heart and discover it. Live awake so that you can know what you do best, and then do it. Don’t remain unconscious to your highest and deepest life passions. God takes as much pleasure in gardening as singing on the praise team. Meanwhile, grant that same life-giving freedom to others. Don’t imprison them, thereby driving them round the bend. Listen to their hearts so that you can help them encounter God’s inner divine healing.

Finally, we might ask what God does best. Jesus provides an intriguing answer in his prayer. “And the glory which you gave me I have given them, that they may be one just as we are one” (John 17:22). God glorifies us. Because no one prevented God from doing what he does best, he lives in perfect success of his good work through Christ, and we all share in that blessing no matter how crazy it seems (1Corinthians 1:25).
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Originally published on June 30, 2008. (c) Presence International. Parousia is a free Transmillennial publication of Presence. To receive Parousia in your inbox each week click here.

Mark 7 Remix

My most recent article on the Presence website is Mark 7 Remix. It takes the story of Jesus’ conversation with the zealous religious folks and translates it into a contemporary context. It starts like this:
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As soon as church let out, the believers headed to the cook out to see Him. Now when they saw some of His friends grilling burgers and drinking a beer, they found fault. For all of the faithful ones don’t drink, and they wait until after church to begin barbequing.

Perplexed and perturbed, the believers asked Him, “Why don’t these people go to church? And why do they think it’s ok to have an occasional drink? Shouldn’t they be worshiping God with the fellowship of the saints instead of just hanging out here?”

Read more here.

But Out

In my experience, most people in churches of all denominations wrestle with one primary issue: Does God really love me?

The question is phrased in various ways like: What must I do to be saved? Why is there evil in the world? What about hell? Why did Jesus have to die? What is acceptable worship? What does God want from me? What is my purpose in life? Am I gifted enough? What is my ministry? How can God love me if there is so much misery in the world?

We could go on and on, but you know the questions. You’ve asked them, and maybe you’ve sought answers in churches, from theologians, and in prayer. Churches tend to respond in the affirmative, yet they often negate the answer with one little word. “But.”

God loves you, but you must stop sinning. God loves you, but you must speak in tongues. God loves you, but you must be baptized. God loves you, but you must go out and change the world. God loves you, but you must acknowledge the creeds. God loves you, but if you don’t do all of the right things in all of the right ways, then God will make sure something really bad happens to you—either now or in the hereafter.

Oddly enough, this message is habitually packaged as “good news.”
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Read the entire article when you click here.

Greatest Gift Remix

A few days ago I published a new article on the Presence site called 1Corinthians 13: The Greatest Gift Remix. It’s a reworking of Paul’s impassioned plea to his readers to renounce their pride and practice love. Understanding there is a unique context there, I take Paul’s text and put it in a contemporary setting. It goes like this.

Y’all want to go viral with the next big thing. You’re uploading the monuments to yourself onto YouTube. You’re hoping that a publisher discovers the genius of your manuscript. You’ve been working on the best damn praise band in the land.

That’s all cool. You’re striving for great gifts. Yet I will show you a still more excellent way.

If my album goes platinum, but don’t have love, I’m an out of tune guitar or a clanging cymbal.

If I’m the smartest guy in the room, and understand all mysteries and have all knowledge, but don’t have love, I’m a big zero.

If I believe all of the ‘right doctrines’ and can recite entire books of the Bible; if I’m the only person in history who has figured out the difference between homousia and homoiousia, but don’t have love, what good is it?

Read the entire article here.