tagged 
mystery
mystery Entries in mystery (3)
Grasp the Mystery
Thursday, September 4, 2014 at 09:11AM 
What a powerful urge it is to figure things out, to master a concept, to place an idea firmly within our grasp.
If only Jesus would cooperate.
Today I sing a cautious song against systematic theology: that holy grail of the academy, driven by the conviction that we can stuff the God of the universe into 1,264 pages.
I know: I’m already being unfair. I’ve already built the strong man. I’ve already insulted half my friends. So in advance I offer an apology to my educated brothers and sisters, half-hearted though it is. I’m sorry for such judgment; I haven’t done the work you have done: years of study and hard thinking. Any team with Dallas Willard in the starting line-up deserves respect. And yet . . .
I once listened to a seminarian speak for an hour on the subject of penal substitutionary atonement. He reviewed the meaning of Greek words and blazed a trail through what felt like the entire New Testament. He was passionate, and beneath his words anyone could see his love for Jesus. At the end of his presentation he asked for questions. There were none. How could there be—who knew as much as this guy? But then I jumped into the pool: “Dr. FireHeart,” I started. “If you can forgive me bringing up the so-what factor, I’d like to ask you why—why do we need to know this?”
Dr. FireHeart shuffled his papers a moment and gathered his thoughts. He looked back at me and stammered, “I, uh . . . Well, I just think it’s good to know.” The room was awkwardly quiet until the moderator thanked Dr. FireHeart for his excellent presentation and dismissed the room. Other academicians filed past me with cold stares.
Today’s post is not an argument in favor of ignorance. Everything I’ve learned I’ve received from generous and wise men and women, people much more learned than I. They have run the race and done the work. In most cases their passion for Jesus sustained them in that work. But if I’m honest, I would rather be left stammering and befuddled by the tension in Jesus' words than reduce him to a comprehensible theology. The root meaning of “comprehend” comes from ancient verb “to grasp.” I smile at the thought of Jacob trying to grasp the angel of the Lord and wrestle him to the ground. I smile at the thought of the human mind trying to grasp the lightning that flashes from the east to the west, or trying to grasp the wind, which blows where it wills. If any part of me is able to grasp the fullness of God, it’s my heart, not my mind.
Instead, I’m asking what is necessary to become a student of Jesus. I’m asking what it means—in practical terms—to take his yoke and learn from him. I’m asking why “discipleship” is so often characterized as study, and so rarely characterized as apprenticeship. I’m asking if the smartest people in the room always make the best disciples. I’m asking why, after writing his 13-volume Church Dogmatics (nearly 8,000 pages in the English Translation), Karl Barth chose to summarize his work by reciting the children’s song, Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so.
I’m asking for the grace of God to be rooted and established in in me, and that I may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that we all may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.
The Tension of Love and Mystery: Why we don't have to know it all
Thursday, September 15, 2011 at 01:00AM 
N.T. Wright was once asked his opinion about John’s gospel. He stammered around a bit and finally confessed, “I feel about John like I feel about my wife; I love her very much but I wouldn't claim to understand her.” Precisely: love and mystery trump understanding every time.
If you’re the kind of person who needs to figure everything out, perhaps the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob is not for you. Too bad, because he’s the real deal: he’s the one who spun galaxies off of his fingertips, who calls forth the starry host one by one each night. He’s the one who has no problem turning the tables on the rich and self-confident by raising the humble and poor.
Students of Jesus live within a healthy tension between revelation and mystery. We are in relationship with a vast, imponderable, transcendent, infinite Creator who also desires an intimacy with us closer than our next breath. It’s the kind of math that makes quantum physics look like child’s play: infinite God plus finite human equals eternal relationship. No amount of smarts can balance the books, but a willing heart can thrive forever.
In Luke’s gospel one chapter in particular bursts at the seams with the tension between revelation and mystery. Chapter seven contains at least four imponderables, waiting like snares for the sure-footed religious expert. I have tripped on these four often:
1). Jesus is not easily impressed, but faith can cause him to marvel (Luke 7: 1-10). When a Roman soldier is satisfied solely with the words of Jesus, the Lord tells all Israel they have something to learn from a Gentile. Jesus called the religious intellectuals of his days “blind fools.” Those who claim to have things figured out automatically disqualify themselves as guides for spiritual formation; those who place their trust in God without reserve become examples for us all.
2). The Creator of the universe is moved by compassion (Luke 7: 11-17). Jesus raises a dead man for no good reason--unless we count the tears of a widow as reason enough. This strange paragraph is almost a throw-away passage. We are offered no explanation other than the Eternal One is apparently always unhappy with death. Do we hold the same view?
3). The Greatest Teacher in history is pleased to speak mysteries (Luke 7: 18-35). Is there any more complicated question than the fate of John the Baptist? John is the first to recognize the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world; yet from prison he is filled with second-guesses and questions; finally, this servant of God loses his life on the whim of a dancing teenager. Jesus is pleased to call our attention to John’s example, but offers us one of the strangest sayings of his ministry, “Yet wisdom is justified by all her children” (verse 35). I’ve pondered those words for decades and I’m still no closer to finding a clue as to their meaning. What about you?
4). Boldness and worship impress the God who needs nothing (Luke 7: 36-50). When a woman ruined a dinner party with tears, perfume and love, Jesus jumps to her defense. The host merely thinks a critical thought, and that alone is offensive to Jesus. The rich are sent away empty and the social outcast becomes a model of devotion. By the final verse of the chapter tears, perfume and love have become sufficient testimony of faith. No creed, no orthodoxy, and no propriety are enough, but the party-crasher goes home justified while the host is made a fool.
Each of us should strive for understanding because we are commanded to love God with our minds. Jesus rewards those who turn their thoughts and intellect his way, yet he is not impressed by my intelligence. The qualities of wonder, love and relationship are the foundations on which our study must be built.
Monday's Meditation: Freedom from the "do-nots"
Monday, November 9, 2009 at 11:34AM Back in fifth grade I actually had to write, “I will not talk in class” one hundred times on the blackboard. It was a classic educational moment. I was so short I needed to use a chair to reach the top of the board. I thought I would never finish. If only they had cut and paste back then! When I returned to school the next day--you guessed it--I still spoke out of turn in class.
The list of things I should not do has only grown longer since those days: I should not slap people in the face when they drive me crazy; I should not wager the mortgage money on a sure thing at the race track; I should not text in the movie theater (or while driving); and I should not spend as much time as I do cruising the social network. Perhaps you can add to the list of things I should not do. Don’t bother: I’ve given up trying not to do things. There are several problems with trying not to do things. I lack the discipline, I have a bad memory for rules, and I sometimes lack the will to follow them.
The Apostle Paul was one of the greatest rule-followers ever, yet became a messenger of freedom. His message was so scandalous people thought he was crazy. Imagine a man who had memorized every one of the 614 points of the Old Testament law writing these freedom-filled words:
Since you died with Christ to the basic principles of this world, why, as though you still belonged to it, do you submit to its rules: "Do not handle! Do not taste! Do not touch!"? These are all destined to perish with use, because they are based on human commands and teachings. Such regulations indeed have an appearance of wisdom, with their self-imposed worship, their false humility and their harsh treatment of the body, but they lack any value in restraining sensual indulgence. (Colossians 2: 20 - 23)
This same Apostle of freedom had one goal for his converts: that they would resemble Jesus: “We proclaim him, admonishing and teaching everyone with all wisdom, so that we may present everyone perfect in Christ” (Colossians 1: 28). These two passages both refer to “teaching,” yet each teaching produces very different results.
The mystery of Paul’s letter to the church in Colosse revolves around this very issue, and provides a perfect Monday meditation--what teaching can lead me to perfect in Christ? What does “perfection” mean? Is it possible in my life?