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.

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.

Revelation Literally

Do you take the Bible literally? It appears to be a simple, even innocent, question. Yet it comes packed with assumptions. This is no value-free inquiry that can be answered with a plain yes or no. This is a test question.

Depending on the questioner, it means different things. To someone describing herself as a Bible-believing fundamentalist, it’s a test of orthodoxy. If you take the Bible literally, you are a good and faithful servant of God worthy of all acceptance. If not, you are a heretical heathen headed for hellfire. However, if the questioner sees himself as a progressive and ecumenical believer, taking the Bible literally may signal a closed minded, regressive extremist.

Like most of life’s questions, “Do you take the Bible literally” is not a binary operation. Most questions of any significance can’t be answered with an unadorned yes or no.Consider this one: “Are you blue?”

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Read More Here

Parousia…Rereading The Story

The Wizard of Oz is one of the most beloved stories of the past hundred years. As much as I enjoy the classic movie, I must that the same flying monkeys that scared me when I was a child still make me feel a little nervous.

Besides the fanciful and loveable characters, it seems to me that the appeal of The Wizard of Oz comes from the most famous line in the story. You know the magic words. So click your heels and say, “There’s no place like home.” The sentiment of “home” conveys belonging, welcome, and warmth. Feeling “at home” carries an ethos of safety, security, and sanctuary. Home offers you a sense of place. At least, that’s the archetype of “home.” Even if our actual homes are less than idyllic, the mental image of the model home resonates deep within our hearts.

Of course, The Wizard of Oz has other evocative themes. The ability to be at home whenever and wherever you are. The possession of what you desire most. The hero’s journey. The tendency to look outside ourselves for what we possess all along.

As adored and familiar as The Wizard of Oz is, it may be difficult to revise the way we tell the story. But can you flex your imagination and envision an alternative reading of the story? Keeping the entire narrative exactly as it is, a retelling of The Wizard of Oz will thoroughly alter our perception of Dorothy, Oz, and the message of the story.

Dorothy was an impetuous child. She disrespected her elders, visited a strange man in a wagon, and trained her ferocious dog to attack an old lady.

As a result, God sent a tornado to punish her. He swept her away to a bizarre world where she killed two of the residents and celebrated their deaths with freakish elves and demonic soldiers. In this peculiar realm, Dorothy cavorted with witchcraft, weird talking beasts, and evil flying monkeys.

After stealing a pair of priceless ruby slippers, Dorothy sought a way to return to Kansas. She seduced a human-like scarecrow, a metallic lumberjack, and beastly lion into accompanying her to a bejeweled city in order to rendezvous with a wizard who could send her home. She finagled her way into this city that was held under the despotic sway of the deceptive warlock. After berating her, he made her an offer she couldn’t refuse. He would send her home if she would perform an act of thievery. If she would steal a magic broom, he would help her return home. Dorothy consented.

In the course of the robbery, Dorothy killed the rightful owner. Upon returning to the city, she double crossed the wizard, and banished him when she discovered that he was from Kansas, too. (He has not been heard from until this day.) The wizard’s absence freed Dorothy to install her minions as puppet rulers of the city. Discovering from her spirit guide that she wielded magical powers herself, Dorothy returned home to Kansas where she waited to exact revenge on her unsuspecting family and neighbors.

That way of telling the story sounds more like a horror show than a cherished family tale. These are the exact same facts but told with a different tone, an unusual emphasis, and some suggestive wording. One way warms the heart. The other makes you want to take a hot shower and sleep with the lights on.

We have the God-given power to tell the story. Any story, including the Biblical story. For centuries, people have told the Biblical story in terms of humanity’s rebellion and God’s intense yearning to make us pay. That way of telling the story portrays an irate God who resolves to whack all humanity in a genocidal act of revenge because the first couple took a piece of fruit. He decided to give us a second chance by taking out his frustrations on Jesus. People who believe these facts in the right way will escape never-ending torture. Moreover, these believers need to think the right thoughts about the metaphysical make-up of the ineffable God, agree to a certain cosmology regardless of what the visible evidence suggests, and behave properly; otherwise, they’re going to regret it for a long, long time.

Those lucky enough to believe, think, and act in harmony with God’s revealed and hidden purposes call their good fortune “grace.” To them, God in his infinite mercy (we’re told) is waiting patiently for all people to come to their senses. Yet, the vast majority of them won’t. One day God’s patience will run out and he’ll get so fed up that he’ll send Jesus back to earth in order to end it all.

That, we’re told, is the “good news.”

No wonder there is so much anxiety around religion. This way of telling the story portrays God as a petty, neurotic, and secretive tyrant. It puts humanity in the position of seeking to appease this God by the performance of enigmatic rituals and adherence to arbitrary moral standards. It gives us all one chance to get it right. Our fate is sealed by death, and even God is bound by death’s decision.

I simply must believe that there’s a better way of telling the story. One that pictures God as something kinder and gentler than the godfather. One that honors God for walking with us through the hurts, sorrows, and wounds of life. One that depicts God as love incarnate. One that reads Christ on the cross as the ultimate expression of divinity with humanity. One that blesses all families of the earth. One that finds God to be infinitely immanent rather than completely separate. One that sees humanity’s comprehensive connection in the ultimate all-in-all. One in which God decrees, “There’s no place like home,” and so he makes his home with us — not as an abusive despot, but as a tender and understanding presence (Revelation 21:3).

You have the power to tell the story. This is not only your God-given gift; it is your inescapable blessing. No one has a monopoly on the story. You don’t have to accept anyone’s interpretation of it. So, begin telling the story in a way that makes it worthy of being the Greatest Story Ever Told. And when you do, you’ll discover a personal transformation and contribute to a new cultural awareness that will make all things new and reveal a New Heaven and New Earth.

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Originally published, April 7, 2008. (c) Presence International. Parousia is a free Transmillennial publication of Presence. To receive Parousia in your inbox each week click here.

New Book

We intend to release our newest book in short order. This will be a short introduction to all things Transmillennial. This is not a “doctrinal statement” or anything like that. Instead, it’s a communication device, a way for you to start friendly conversations about some complex ideas.

This will be a great opportunity to help people who know nothing about the fulfillment of all things to begin to see the big picture. It will offer some explanations on Biblical language and ideas. It will discuss things the judgment, resurrection, and the millennium. It will offer a glimpse into what fulfillment means for us today.

I know you’ll find this to be a great way to introduce your friends and family to the fulfillment of all things. It provides an introduction to things like the language of the Bible, the transformation of the ages, the meaning of the millennium, and life in the new heaven and new earth.

As soon as the publication process is complete, I’ll let you know.

A Pain in the Neck

“What a pain in the neck.”

That’s a simple declarative statement with little ambiguity. The words “pain,” “in,” and “neck” are all in common usage. They’re not obscure; so, you don’t need specialized training in linguistics to understand the denotation of the language. It means what it says.

As plain as this statement is, by itself it isn’t sufficient to communicate my intent. Taken literally, you might assume I have an ache somewhere in my cervical vertebrae. Maybe it’s a muscle ache, or perhaps I’ve been in a car accident that has caused whiplash.

That’s seems straightforward enough—unless you happen to understand familiar figures of speech employed in the English language. Metaphorically, having “a pain in the neck” connotes annoyance at a nagging problem, not necessarily related to one’s physical neck. “My loud neighbors are a pain in the neck. Computer difficulties are a pain in the neck.”

How can you determine the precise meaning of the phrase? How do you know if my “pain in the neck” is literal or metaphorical? You need more information. You need to know the context.

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Read more here.