1 Kings 19:1-13
To My Precious Grandchildren (Gracyn, Hallie, Sullivan and Hudson)
One day you will be old enough to read what Crank Pop (see yesterday’s MwM post) wrote to you on February 27, 2014. In the event that you ever wonder what made my grandpa (or great grandpa) tick, I will give you a hint by explaining why I write.
When I am writing I am learning. Forcing myself to grasp something well enough to express it in words takes me through a process of thought and consideration that helps me take some ownership of the concepts (which is essential if I am to live them out). I think of writing as meditation with a crutch. It may even be more appropriate to just call my ramblings rumination in print. I would encourage you to experiment with writing to see what it might yield, I will share how I typically go about it most mornings.
As I think about this process, I realize that I am always reading scripture on two levels and that the activity on those levels is underway concurrently. I will start by describing what I percieve to be going on at the level of my mind. I will typically read a passage through several times often in different translations. At the outset I am just trying to get the story straight. Years of doing inductive bible study engrained the habit of asking lots of questions such as; Who’s is speaking? Who are they speaking to? What are these people’s circumstances? What is the relationship of the speaker to his audience? What has prompted this communication? These questions always produce more questions – new trails to follow. Because there are typically so many, the trick becomes choosing the right ones.
Even though the process feels a bit mechanical at first, it quickly changes as things, at a deeper level, kick in. At this level, which I will call my spirit, things are more personal than academic. In this space, between the Lord and myself there is an understanding (more keenly on his side than mine no doubt) that my heart belongs to him and because of this he has permission in advance to question, reprove, teach, encourage and train me with his Truth.
When I think about scripture, I don’t think of it as just being truthful. I think that narrow way of thinking about it allows it to be co-opted by the-powers-that-be (the world, the flesh & the devil) to use in their classic right-versus-wrong ploy. They probably don’t sleep but if they did the demons probably wake up and plan their first meal. Perhaps Wormwood asks the team, “Among our assignments today, how can we best divide men from God and from each other?” With a proud smirk, some hungry specter weighs in, “I make a proposal we use Our Father Below’s proven right versus wrong ploy.” The demons all bow in mock reverence and say, “Amen brother”. They know exactly where they will be dining for lunch – the local church – a place that has provided (in their defense of doctrinal purity) a steady diet of proud and wounded rigid wineskins for centuries.
Later that day around the table, dining contentedly on the decaying remnants of religious flesh, Slimejob comments, “You know, I don’t know that I have tasted anything quite so exquisite since Caiaphas. I just love the almost-crunchy texture.”
Dear Grandkiddos, this why your Crank Pop has called his blog In The Middle With Mystery. Having formerly lived as one in-the-middle (the bullseye in fact)-with-certainty, I became more comfortable of thinking of myself as being in the middle with Christ – the Mystery of the Ages from whom I have traced my linage, have found my identity and am pursuing my destiny, which is very simply union with Him.
While it sounds profoundly noble, Mystery , the Person – the first born of a new race of men, puts doctrinal purity in an entirely different light. It is not that I have completely devalued the defense of doctrinal purity as a valid undertaking, it is just that in itself “doctrinal purity” has never changed a single life. It has only set the table for a demonic-religious feeding frenzy where we (the doctrinally pure) are the main course. No, the idea of Truth as a mere systematic theology, a collection of principles by which we must live is a sad parody of Life in Christ. An organized collection of beliefs is a way-to-rigid and static understanding of Truth. When we awake in the morning we must instead think of the Truth as both present and alive, a Person to whom we are now related.
So, the scriptures for me are inspired by way of their nature (their DNA) which is Truth. However, since I am a descendent of Adam and have lived in a world hostile to God, my thinking is not completely accurate or true. Where I am still believing half-truths (and even blatant lies) I am not yet free. At this personal level, between my spirit and God’s, there is a process of liberation underway. He came to set captives (like you and I) free, and it is Jesus, the Truth who is our Way and my Life (our core DNA). All this to say, the mechanical first steps I take are just an introduction into the spirit-to spirit communion with God we were created for. With these thoughts serving as the backdrop, even the academic part takes on more meaning because I know from experience how frequently this digging process uncovers Life, the priceless treasure which we already possess.
This will help put the kibosh (a term I like for destroying a lie) on the idea of a quiet time with God as some quid pro quo arrangement where we are obligated to ingest massive dosages of little “t” BIble truth in order to produce a meaningful relationship with God. While this idea, on the surface, initially looks and smells right, and is broadly marketed in many a religious franchises as the way to God, it is in fact a toxic half -truth which when divorced from the greater and more mysterious realities we are caught up in, will not lead you to Jesus, Our Way, Our Truth, our Life.
As those who, even now, are living and moving and having our being in God, operating with the assumption that God knows where we are, that He is good and that He is intentional, I just assume He is speaking to me always through His (in-print and in-sprit) Word. Somehow I discover as I read (with my heart and my head), that word of scripture relates to me because it and I (with my new heart) share the same DNA. So, as things are whirring on two levels, I am also asking, “What do I have in common with the people in the narrative I am interacting with?”
There may be a great fork in the road for some at this point. The pure academic might shun that question, thus choosing the path where revelation hinges upon refined understanding of the original languages. They may require much deeper understanding of the historical context before they dare think that the scriptures might personally yield them any holy treasure. This is typically not the path I take because…
Christ’s disciples were not scholars. In fact, if you look for scholars and trained seminarians in the early church, you will hurt your eyes. Jesus himself was a common man. He spoke a common man’s dialect. It feels quite awkward to say this, but Jesus was not an educated man (in the formal sense). Yet, even from his honest and boyish heart came questions and insights that held even the scholarly priests spellbound. All this to say, I operate with the assumption that Truth has not been reserved for academics. It was always intended to be accessible to common men who were inclined to obey it, to discover its Author, not just committed to study it to death. It was always about the spirit, not the letter.
When I think about the inspiration of scripture, a historically accurate book filled with truthful moral principles is not what first comes to my mind. While these things are certainly true, I think of scripture being inspired in the dynamic sense of a catalyst – something that sets my spirit in motion and propels it along a pathway of discovery. It is not just information to log away in my data storage which I may accesses on an as-needed-basis in order to live a moral, profitable or functional life. No, by virtue of its spirit-nature it awakens and stirs the spirit Life (and nature) that is already in us.
Within the well-settled Christian camps there seems to be a great divide. One camp leans hard on formal academics. The thought for these folks having anything other than a seminary grad feeding the flock their weekly or bi-weekly ration would be practically unthinkable. Other camps, often filled with travelers less inclined to read, think or study, will read the bible but would not feel they have in any way been locked out of the inner sanctuary of Truth for want of academics. These believers may be inclined to trust the inner promptings of the Spirit without much attention to the bible. Their are errors-a-plenty in this direction as well. Been there done that kiddos.
I have wondered if when Jesus said that he was seeking those who would worship him in spirit and in truth if he did not mean that he was looking for those who recognize how God had made them with both a soul and a spirit, beings designed to listen to God’s voice with these two vital dimensions within them working in concert, where both the cognitive and intuitive are in play, where the objective and subjective are in balance. I have wondered if this idea was ever realized on a broader scale if it would not bring much healing in the Body of Christ where rigid, religious black and white thinking has wounded and isolated so many.
If our circumstances find us, like Elijah, collapsed beneath the broom brush, intimidated and without motivation to proceed, perhaps God would say to us, “Get up and eat.” and then even, “Get up and eat some more.” Perhaps we have expected to hear God in some dramatic way. He certainly has been known to speak in that tone! That being true, let’s not rule out the possibility, that, in his faithfulness, he has been speaking to us all along from his place of residence within. I am encouraging my community of spiritual friends to experiment with reading and writing as one means (a means) of hearing God’s voice. Perhaps we will hear it in the same tone Elijah finally heard it – in a subtle whisper. Maybe the answer to us when we are in the doldrums (aka; depression) is simply, “Rise and feed yourself.” I am proposing for some, perhaps even you, that your pen (as it has with me) will become your fork.
Love,
Crank Pop
Father, May we learn to feed ourselves and live by all the words that have proceeded and shall proceed from your mouth. Help us to personally make your words our words, your thought our thoughts. May the living word of God pierce our hearts. May it subdue and conquer the traditions of men that we have exalted in our hearts above your words. Amen.