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.

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.

Registration for Transmillennial 2008

Maybe you remember the 80s TV show, The A-Team. At the end of every program Hannibal Smith (played by George Peppard) smiled and said, “I love it when a plan comes together.”

So do I — especially when it relates to Transmillennial 2008. The pans for the 20th annual conference are coming together and I love it.

Transmillennial 2008 will be held in Colorado Springs on September 10-13. We still have a few onsite rooms available, but they are filling up fast. To guarantee your onsite room you need to register today if you haven’t already done so. You can register online when you click here.

You’ll want to stay onsite in order to maximize your time with all of the amazing people who will be attending. So far, people from several countries — including Australia, St. Maarten, South Africa, the UK, and even Iraq — will be participating. This cross-section of cultures will be coming together to celebrate the reconciliation of all things.

Plus, the scenery and setting are spectacular. You’ll encounter natural beauty, pristine walking paths, impressive big-horn sheep, and countless serene places to sit and have wonderful conversation. The air will be clean and the aspens will be turning their breathtaking golden hue.

Because this is an anniversary conference, we want it to be extra special for you. You’ll experience inspiring music, groundbreaking teaching, and some of the most fascinating people you’ll ever meet.

For weeks, I’ve been telling you about some of the folks that will be on the program. People like Frank Spencer, Sonnyboy Skosana, Eunice Maselana, Fred DeFalco, and B. J. Marowitz. One of our musical guests will be the lyrically gifted Redding Brothers.

But you haven’t heard the half of it yet.

This conference will blow your mind! We’ll be releasing the full schedule very soon, and this will be the first Transmillennial Conference for many of the speakers and musicians. You’ll hear fresh perspectives from the ever-expanding network of people who are plugged in to Presence.

Of course, you’ll see and hear from several of our long-time friends and partners too.

Because the theme for Transmillennial 2008 is All Things New, we couldn’t hold the “same old conference.” All Things New must be comprehensive. We want you to explore what’s so new about the New Heaven and Earth!

You’ll have several opportunities to attend grace shops (not workshops) and participate in open conversations. You’ll hear the latest cutting-edge theology and discover Transmillennial Life Practice.

Best of all, you’ll meet people from around the world. People like you. People who are actualizing their transformation by incarnating this powerful Story. You’ll likely make new life-long friends.

On Friday evening, best-selling author Brian McLaren will deliver the keynote address. We’re so honored to have Brian speaking to the group. You may have read his books including his trilogy A New Kind of Christian and his book about the kingdom of God called The Secret Message of Jesus. Now you’ll get to meet him and be moved by his great passion for God and people.

You’ll have opportunities to meet and talk with Max King. Max’s current work will contribute to the complete transformation of Biblical theology and countless lives. Also, you’ll hear the Presence Board of Directors talk about the vision they have for taking this message global.

I know gas prices are high, and you may be wondering about travel expenses. We’ve worked hard to keep costs down in order to make this an affordable conference. I believe that coming to Transmillennial 2008 is an investment in your self and your world. The first Transmillennial Conference I attended ended up being a “pearl of great price moment.” I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

I can’t emphasize this enough. To guarantee your onsite room you must register immediately if you haven’t already registered. If you have any questions, please email me at kevin@presence.tv.

I’m looking forward to seeing you in September.

You can read the brochure for Transmillennial 2008 when you click here.

You can register online when you click here.

Parousia…Good Work

Pulling out of my parking spot, I turned on the radio and caught the conclusion of a program that discusses writing. The loquacious announcer droned on about the show’s sponsors, and then bade us listeners farewell by advising us, “Do good work.” Who could argue with that? No one I know has ever set out to do bad work.

But what constitutes good work? Is it determined by the work’s perceived service to humanity and our world? We might agree that nurses do good work. But not all nurses provide the same level of pain relief. Can you say, “Nurse Ratched?”

We could measure good work by the quality of job performance. A professional carpenter can frame a house far better than I can. But the job performance criterion breaks down quickly when we consider professions like slave trader, terrorist, or arms dealer. “Wow, Vito is the best hit man ever!”

Does good work amount to optimizing your intellectual capacity or earnings potential? That may seem reasonable, but it leaves us making arbitrary judgments about people, status, and career choices. Let’s say Sarah gives up a promising medical career to become an elementary school teacher. Is teaching and inspiring children less good than performing rhinoplasty? Moreover, who’s to say a doctor is inherently smarter than a teacher? Besides, can we really put a price tag on goodness?

And what if you don’t do good work? Or what if your disability prevents you from working? Or what if you’ve been conscripted into forced labor? Are you less of a person because your work isn’t so good?

Differentiating between good and bad is a human obsession. Consider all the good/bad judgments we make. Carrots are good, but seal blubber is bad. Mom-and-pop stores are good; international chains are bad. Vivaldi is good, and Vanilla Ice is bad. Homeopathy is good while synthetic medication is bad. Religion is good, and no religion is bad. My religion is good; yours is bad. Of course, someone might reverse all or some of those statements. This just illustrates how capricious our judgments are.

Our affinity for labeling things good or bad may stem from our formative childhood experiences. Parents instruct their children to be good little boys and girls. They punish scold their children for being bad. The school system reinforces our awareness of good and bad. Good students receive gold stars and bad ones are sent to the principal’s office. Good kids make the team, play in the band, and study hard. Bad kids get tattoos, smoke pot, and skip class. When we enter the work force, we advance up the corporate ladder if our superiors see us doing good work.

When religion enters the equation, things become more complicated — not to mention contradictory. The good work of prayer, piety, and penance appear to be essential to developing and maintaining an upright life. But then we’re told that that no one’s work is good enough. What a precarious quandary.

How are we supposed to gauge what is good and bad? The only suitable tool is knowledge. Yet the chimera of knowledge provides a pseudo-standard of goodness. Parents supposedly know what is good and pass that information to their children. So do teachers, supervisors, and pastors. These people in their roles share a feature that reinforces the knowledge-based economy: authority. Parents exercise authority over their children, teachers over students, bosses over employees, and priests over parishioners. The cycle validates itself as we blindly assume that someone got into their position of authority by knowing the difference between good and bad. So in the blink of an eye we’ve conflated authority with knowledge and knowledge with goodness.

Yet knowledge and authority aren’t the same things. The wisest person in the world may have no authority whatsoever, and the most powerful person may not be especially bright — or virtuous for than matter. Nonetheless, if knowledge really was power it still wouldn’t address the arbitrary nature of what we call goodness.

While in prison on trumped-up charges, sixth century philosopher Boethius wrote an allegory called The Consolation of Philosophy. In it, he wrestled with the issues of good and bad. “Is human judgment so perfect that it can discern who is truly good and who is truly evil? If that were true, why do humans disagree so often, so that the same person is thought by one group to deserve the highest rewards and is thought by another group to deserve the most miserable punishments? Even if I were to grant that some people can somehow distinguish between good and evil people, would that person also be able to look inside the soul and, like a doctor examining a body, discern the inner condition of the person?”

It doesn’t take an anthropologist to recognize that the gauges of good and bad vary depending on the contexts of culture, gender, historical period, religion, and family. Often, the standard for judging goodness boils down to individual taste. “This is good because I like it. That’s bad because I don’t like it.” We mask our personal preferences in the guise of tradition, success, age, experience, utility, gender, wealth, popularity, education, or a decree from on high. Yet taste is in the mouth of the beholder.

Regardless of the particular issue, most of us have developed a taste for judging between good and bad. We take pleasure in making those determinations. The sweetness of power, authority, and intellect tastes good. While it feeds our addiction to judging, the fruit from the Tree of Knowledge (of good and evil) sickens those who eat from it.

However, the Tree of Knowledge isn’t the only arboreal fruit-bearing plant. The Tree of Life yields fruit that heals the hearts of those who have ingested the venom from the Tree of Knowledge. The leaves of the Tree of Life bind the wounds caused by the divisiveness of judging good and evil. Its sap is the balm from Gilead. The tree of life blooms year-round — in the eternal now — so there is never a bad time to detox and heal from the harmful effects of what is falsely called knowledge.

The Tree of Life is the Tree of Love, and love needs neither the fertilizer of knowledge or goodness to thrive. Jesus instructed his students to love their neighbors. One man wanted to know what criteria made a person his neighbor. Jesus demonstrated the transcendent nature of love by showing that love doesn’t make that type of calculation. You don’t need to know if a person is good or bad in order to love them. That’s why Jesus could say, “Love God,” “Love your neighbor as yourself,” and “Love your enemy” with equal conviction and weight.

So stop doing good work and start loving. When you do, you’ll experience inner healing. You can begin by abandoning self-judgment. Rather than seeing if you measure up — which is just another way of saying “get better” — just love. In this way, you’ll experience God’s perfect work and you’ll witness the Tree of Love blooming in your heart.
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Originally published on June 9, 2008. (c) Presence International. Parousia is a free Transmillennial publication of Presence. To receive Parousia in your inbox each week click 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.

Parousia…Authoring Your Life

There’s a difference between an author and an editor. The author creates ex nihilo. She looks at the blank page — computer screen, canvas, chunk of marble, or sketchpad — and fills it. Ideas take form in words, images, and pictures. Often crude, rough, and unrefined, they spill from the heart and mind of the author. It’s the real and untouched overflow springing from within. The author’s first draft stands like Adam and Eve — naked and unashamed.

Then comes the editor. The editor looks at the text with a critical eye, examining it for flaws, mistakes, and errors. His job is to find defects and to recommend corrections. The editor wants to refine the initial product like an instructor from a finishing school.

Rarely, if ever, does the audience see the original manuscript. It’s messy, filled with incomplete ideas and roughly worded phrases. The earliest document is a spontaneous declaration, but the edited version has been pored over, worked on, and chiseled away. In the world of publishing, the best books often result from the best editing. Life is different, however. In life we excel from authentic authoring rather than extensive editing.

Writing Down the Bones by Natalie Goldberg is an illuminating book designed to help people hone the craft of writing. In it, she reveals startling truths about living by helping people discover themselves. In her chapter “Trouble with the Editor,” she observes, “It is important to separate the editor from the creator or internal censor when you practice writing, so that the creator has free space to breathe, explore, and express.”

As we author our lives, we may hear the voice of our internal editor telling us that we’re not good, bright, or worthy. The editor looks disapprovingly at all we feel, believe, do, and hold dear. It tells us that we not as qualified as others to have opinions. That we’ll probably make a fool out of ourselves. That we’ll look, sound, and even smell horrible. The editor tells us that we’re less than perfect.

After a while, we tend to believe the editor. We take the editor’s suggestions and try to incorporate changes. We get a mentor, look to a guru, find someone to model our lives after. Hoping to please the editor — or just to shut him up — we search for someone who agrees with the editor. Yet, no matter how hard we try the editor continually marks our lives with red ink and track changes.

Eventually we might even attempt to imitate Jesus. If we can just force ourselves to be more like him, maybe the editor will be satisfied once and for all. But before long, we discover something shocking. We can’t live like Jesus because we’re not Jesus.

That’s not something to bemoan or regret. It’s just the reality. Jesus was Jesus, and you are you. And besides, neither Jesus nor God ever expected you to be Jesus. You’ve been called to be you, and that’s enough. Why would you settle for being less than you? If you feel compelled to follow Jesus, follow his example of living genuinely and fully before God, himself, and others. Jesus lived out of an authentic sense of being himself, and he didn’t model his life after anyone-not the prophets, not Elijah, not John the Baptist. He would be himself, regardless of any voices of judgment. When the soldiers came to arrest him under the cover of darkness, he reminded them “Every day I was with you, teaching in the temple courts.” Jesus lived openly. He would author his life, not edit it.

But you might wonder: What happens if I mess up? If I spell the words of my life incorrectly? If people read me and laugh? If it’s a horror story rather than an inspirational novel?

In that case, you might be tempted to turn to God as an editor. To correct all your mistakes. To cut this word and paste that one. To take something nonsensical and straighten it all out. Sadly this approach leads to greater disappointment and a more heightened impulse of self-editing. It turns God into a cosmic critic whose primary concern is finding fault. It squelches spontaneity, sincerity, authenticity by assuming that life as it has been lived is less than as it should be.

God is not an editor because God does not believe we need one. The voices attempting to edit our lives deny our legitimacy and even our humanity. They want us to be something other than who we are. Perhaps it may help to realize that anyone trying to edit you is actually longing to edit themselves.

God is quite different because God wants you to be no one besides yourself. The true you. God’s not interested in precise grammar or fastidious margins. God knows that a frank life sometimes misses a comma or spills past the borders. That’s cool with God because God is at peace with himself, and that allows God to be at peace with you.

So author your life. Boldly. Blatantly. Fearlessly. Don’t cut out the parts that may seem less than flattering. Michel de Montaigne wrote, “Of all our infirmities, the most savage is to despise our being.” Don’t despise your being. Don’t hate you. Embrace the fullness of your divine inner self, and when you do you will find yourself fully present with God and all of life.
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Originally published on May 26, 2008. (c) Presence International. Parousia is a free Transmillennial publication of Presence. To receive Parousia in your inbox each week click here.

Transmillennial Book Getting Closer

We’re getting closer to the publication of my (Kevin) book. Transmillennial: An Introduction to a New Heaven and Earth will be a relatively brief and basic description of the way I see the story unfolding and what it means for us today. More than a crystal ball supposedly telling us the course of predetermined events in the future, the Story opens unlimited creative possibilities for us to shape our world in a kosmos of light and love. I’ll let you know when it’s released. If you’re kind enough to read it, I’d love to get your feedback. Incidentally, we’re working on some ways to make the book available. I’ll keep you updated.

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.