“Therefore write what you have seen, what is, and what will take place after this.” –Revelation 1:19 [HCSB]
I am fragmented; yet I am whole. I am holy, above reproach; and I sometimes still have the appetites and morals of an alley cat in heat. I am betrothed as Christ’s bride; yet his heart, lodged in me, cohabits with that of a harlot. I am humble, grateful, and broken, frequently kneeling at the feet of grace, washing sacred dust away with salty tears. Sadly, when on my feet of strength and pride again, I’m arrogant–sometimes a tyrant, a Pharisee, or worse.
Cognitive dissonance? Schizophrenia? Hypocrisy? Indecision? Some or all of those could at times be true, or at least appear to be, but, no, that doesn’t sufficiently explain the often enigmatic “me.” Labels fail in describing the “Christ-in-me” creature in cognitively-coherent terms.
I am on a journey. A point cannot define a journey. It cannot even be accurately plotted solely by its beginning and end-points. Again, my journey isn’t faithfully encapsulated by any momentary location along the route laid out. Thank God for the process of Redemption.
I am on a journey to where I already am. My destination is reeling me in, so to speak. The “beyond” has come “within” to guide me home…even though I am technically already there. Oswald Chambers described this:
[God] imparts to us the quickening life of Jesus, making us truly alive. He takes that which was ‘beyond’ us and places it ‘within’ us. And immediately, once ‘the beyond’ has come ‘within,’ it rises up to ‘the above,’ and we are lifted into the kingdom where Jesus lives and reigns.
Oswald Chambers, My Utmost for His Highest
This is my lame attempt to kick off the crazy (humanly-speaking) concept of Redemption, and to try to help you understand where I’ve been, where I am, and where I’m going. (And this is not unique to me: these principles are true for anyone sincerely following Christ.) Explaining God-things, from a human perspective, is often like being a contortionist, or trying to put full-size, fitted sheets on a queen-size bed: using human words and finite wisdom, it’s hard to keep things “tucked in” and tidy. “My thoughts,” He says in Isaiah 55:8, are not your thoughts, neither are your ways My ways.”
But Redemption was conceived for and incarnated into our human condition and therefore we must get at it by the way of human words, divinely breathed. The details of it can be cerebrally confounding, while being so fundamentally simple and fitted to our core needs that it is like a slippery, coated pill that we half-heartedly placed on our tongue, which immediately slides smoothly down the throat as we, eyes wide, startle because we weren’t even ready—or willing—to swallow yet.
C. S. Lewis, in his spiritual autobiography, wrote:
Really, a young Atheist cannot guard his faith too carefully. Dangers lie in wait for him on every side. You must not do, you must not even try to do, the will of the Father unless you are prepared to “know of the doctrine.” All my acts, desires, and thoughts were to be brought into harmony with universal Spirit. For the first time I examined myself with a seriously practical purpose. And there I found what appalled me; a zoo of lusts, a bedlam of ambitions, a nursery of fears, a harem of fondled hatreds. My name was legion.
C. S. Lewis, Surprised by Joy
Again, Redemption is fundamentally a mystery, but one we must attempt to share with words. I once heard it said, “All expression is limitation,” and certainly that applies when talking about realities which transcend the limited dimensions we inhabit. But it can be done if we endeavor really hard to be little. To keep it simple. I believe God “puts the cookies on the bottom shelf” for we little, simple ones. For “the Kingdom of God belongs to such as these” (Matthew 19:14).
Come to his Kingdom. We have cookies.
Abba, Father, thank you for Redemption. Thank you that Jesus, your Son, did the complicated part, the hardest part. I know that Redemption cost you a great deal, and, while it is offered to me free of charge, it really still challenges me to hold nothing back—especially my right to myself. Help me not to dwell over-much on that, but to just stay little, dependent. With all of the little faith you have nurtured in me, I ask Jesus to shepherd me on this difficult street called “Straight.” Amen.
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