Advent Prayer

Purify our conscience, Almighty God, by your daily visitation, that your Son Jesus Christ, at his coming, may find in us a mansion prepared for himself; who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

-from The Book of Common Prayer

Confessions #13: Sand and Love

"If physical objects give you pleasure, praise God for them and return love to their Maker lest, in the things that please you, you displease him. If souls please you, they are being loved in God; for they also are mutable and acquire stability by being established in him...so seize what souls you can to take with you to him, and say to them: 'Him we love; he made these things and is not far distant.' For he did not create and then depart; the things derived from him have their being in him."

- St. Augustine

We are worshipers. That is our business. We see, we find, we gather, we declare. We are on the hunt, metal detectors and butterfly nets in hand, gathering up bits of hidden treasure and created glory, to put them together, labeled, organized, on display for the world to see, and to marvel.

Once you sign up for one credit card, it seems like you get offers from every other credit card. It's like the girl in college that not many guys are interested in until she gets a boyfriend. And all those offers come with a mock credit card as if to say, "Look! Here's what our credit card looks like! Put it in your wallet; carry it around with you. You'd rather have our credit card in your wallet, right?" Just for convenience sake, they put in those reply envelopes with the big black letters "BUSINESS REPLY MAIL" boxed in with thick black lines. It's all very official.

I wonder, what if instead of a fake credit card they sent me a caterpillar? One of those caterpillars that is just ready to cocoon; all it needs is a nearby overhanging twig, or lampshade. I have a lamp beside my bed; it's connected to my bedside table, a package deal. The caterpillar could hang out, make laps around the lampshade while I read my book before going to sleep. I'd bring in some leaves for him to munch on as a bedtime snack, before he and I cover up for the night. Of course, his night is a bit longer and more...effective, I would say. If only our nights were so effective...

So after the given amount of time for all the transforming and wiggling that goes on for the caterpillar to become a butterfly, I suppose I'd play around with him a bit, show him to my friends, and take some pictures, us and the butterfly. Then I'd take those pictures and stuff them back in the envelope marked BUSINESS REPLY MAIL, return to sender. Why? 'Cause that's the business I suppose. Maybe he puts the pictures up in his office somewhere, next to the ones of budding trees, advancing glaciers, new families, restored relationships. He keeps sending out more letters with more reply envelopes, every day, every minute...every second?

This whole business of being human worshipers is like one big expedition of "found" art. We see, we find, we gather, we declare. We take from the "raw material" of the created order, as Pastor Keller would say, and put it together for beauty, advancement, and human flourishing. We are mothers shopping for the family dinner; we are archaeologists digging for lost cities; we are businessmen building networks of relational pragmatism; we are children with cups in hand building empires out of sand.

In Him all things were made, and without Him nothing was made that has been made. He gave life to everything that has been made, and his life brought light to everyone. For in Him all things were created: things in heaven and things on earth, visible and invisible, whether the sand that makes a castle or the love that makes a marriage; all things have been created through Him and for Him. He is before all things, and in Him all things hold together, whether it is sand, or love. And He is the head of the body, the church; he is the beginning and the firstborn from among the dead, so that in everything he might have supremacy...glory.

Confessions #12: Magneto

One of Augustine's stumbling blocks to Christianity and the Bible in particular initially was his aversion to the stories of the Old Testament where he often found those reputed to be "righteous" to do some seemingly very "unrighteous" things. He, like the Manichees with whom he spent many years in fellowship, was disgusted by the polygamy of the patriarchs, the character of those like Moses and David who committed murder, and the Old Testament sacrifices.

But along the way of his education, Augustine came upon Cicero's Hortensius, in which he was drawn irresistibly to the search for wisdom and truth in the study of philosophy. Augustine comments, "The book changed my feelings. It altered my prayers, Lord, to be towards you yourself. It gave me different values and priorities. Suddenly every vain hope became empty to me, and I longed for the immortality of wisdom with an incredible ardor in my heart. I began to rise up and return to you."

Augustine also recalled about Hortensius that he was "impressed not by the book's refining effect on my style and literary expression but by the content." In the footnote, Chadwick remarks that "among Augustine's sharp criticisms of contemporary culture of his time is the proposition that it valued for far higher than content." How true that seems to be today! How many more albums have been sold by the packaged pop bands than by those that sing about meaningful issues? Or how many times has the latest blockbuster been more of a glorified fireworks show with some witty lines and a vague moral platitude than a film of substance and reflective analysis of life and culture? It is not much different in the Church where if the music doesn't sound a certain way or the design isn't quite cool enough, we pass it by regardless of the content of the message. We live in a very similar age.

So it was Augustine's reading of philosophy, particularly Hortensius, that lead him back to the Scriptures. Cicero had exhorted him "not to study one particular sect but to love and seek and pursue and hold fast and strongly embrace wisdom itself, wherever found." One thing that held Augustine back in his enthusiasm for Cicero's call to philosophy was this--"that the name of Christ was not contained in the book." Because of his mother's influence, the memory of Christ was implanted in him deeply, and "any book which lacked this name, however well written or polished or true, could not entirely grip [him]."

In Augustine's return the the Scriptures he found "something neither open to the proud nor laid bare to mere children; a text lowly to the beginner but, on further reading, of mountainous difficulty and enveloped in mysteries." He was not ready at that time to begin the ascent into the mysteries of the Scriptures. Augustine was still thought too highly of his own taste and preferred the large tomes of philosophy current at that time. He was not yet able to start from the beginning, as it were, as a child. But the seed had been planted in him; the seed of hunger for wisdom, for truth, over against the love of vanity and physical pleasures. Not only did Augustine direct his search upward through the thoughts and words of the philosophers, but also through his reflection on the created order. Still, in all these things, Augustine still was hungry, hungry for truth, for nourishment. As he said, "I derived no nourishment from them, but was left more exhausted than before." So it was this memory of Christ and the hunger that his absence affected that would eventually lead Augustine back to the Scriptures and to the God whom Scriptures reveal.

The last line of one of John Donne's holy sonnets (which are holy not because they're sonnets, though many a high school teacher might disagree, but because their content is about that which is holy) goes like this: "And thou like Adamant draw mine iron heart." Adamant is a magnetic loadstone, so you can imagine what would the nature of its relationship with iron be like. So it is with our hearts, hard and heavy as iron before the Lord. We do not, indeed we cannot, rise to meet him in the air, as the rapture imagery so goes. His Word hangs in the air like a thick cloud, unreachable, but even if we did reach it, we have not the capability of capturing it's shape or form. So we need him, to come on those clouds, like Magneto, to draw us up into is his atmosphere, His Word, His life. Come Lord Jesus, come quickly.

Communities of the Kingdom

N. T. Wright on the Gospel and Empire (read: "the man") in today's world:

Somehow, the gospel of Jesus has to be announced as the good news over against all the self-serving power-broking of our day. This won’t be easy. But the start for us, as it was for Paul, is without a doubt the creation of communities, cells of people under Caesar’s nose but loyal to Jesus as Lord and committed to living by faith, hope and love. The call to worship and prayer, to invoking the powerful name of Jesus and to applying his victory to the sometimes dehumanizing structures and power games of our day, remains at the top of the list of Christian priorities, of gospel priorities.

Irish Theological Quarterly
72 (2007) 131–146
Paul as Preacher: The Gospel Then and Now, p.145
N. T. Wright
© 2007 Irish Theological Quarterly

It's a strong vision for the creation of and building up of close-knit, deeply-impacting, far-reaching Christian communities, churches.

Faith Bubbles Up

N. T. Wright on Paul's preaching:

God’s word, that is, the message about Jesus as the climax of God’s saving plan, the unfolding of God’s future putting-to-rights of all things, is announced. Foolish and scandalous though it is, when you tell this story, the story of the great eschatological apocalypse that has taken place in Jesus, God’s spirit goes to work in a new apocalyptic event, itself part of the inaugurated eschatology. Human hearts and minds, to their own great surprise, are opened, warmed, challenged, broken and healed and remade, all through the word and the Spirit. And the immediate result, as any reader of Paul will know, is faith: discovering that the creator of the world is our very own Abba, father; believing, against all other evidence and wisdom, that Jesus really was raised from the dead, and that his death was therefore not a nonsensical disaster but really did deal with sin; hailing him gladly as lord.

‘If you confess with your lips that Jesus is Lord,’ says Paul in Romans 10, ‘and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved.’ Granted, each time he defines Christian faith it comes out slightly differently, but that passage sums it up pretty well. The preaching says, Jesus is Lord and God raised him from the dead; the Spirit works through that preaching, so that (although it’s scandalous nonsense) faith bubbles up, the faith which is thus the sure sign that the word has done its work and which is for that reason the single badge, the only badge, by which Christians are to be identified.

Irish Theological Quarterly
72 (2007) 131–146
Paul as Preacher: The Gospel Then and Now, p.138
N. T. Wright
© 2007 Irish Theological Quarterly

Confessions #11: The Real World

As a young guy in Carthage, Augustine was "captivated by theatrical shows". He loved them because he identified with them; their performances moved him; he craved to feel response to suffering on stage without having to suffer it himself. Looking back, it seemed strange to Augustine, foolish and grotesque even, that he and others would find pleasure in the pain induced by the sufferings on stage which they would never wish upon themselves or their friends and family.

"What is this but amazing folly?" Augustine remarked in his Confessions. What use is it to excite grief without the opportunity to show mercy because the object of that grief is fictitious? Is it not sadistic that for the spectator "the greater his pain, the greater his approval of the actor in these representations"?

"Tears and agonies," Augustine says, "are objects of love. Certainly everyone wishes to enjoy himself."

But Augustine does see some light to this experience of feeling grief and compassion if it then in turn moves one to mercy so that there would be no cause for sorrow. But this is not possible for the actor, because it is all an act. Right...?

So then, Augustine recounts his miserable state,

"But at that time, poor thing that I was, I loved to suffer and sought out occasions for such suffering. So when an actor on stage gave a fictional imitation of someone else's misfortunes, I was the more pleased; and the more vehement the attraction for me, the more the actor compelled my tears to flow. There can be no surprise that an unhappy sheep wandering from your flock and impatient of your protection was infected by a disgusting sore. Hence came my love for sufferings, but not a kind that pierced me very deeply; for my longing was not to experience myself miseries such as I saw on stage. I wanted only to hear stories and imaginary legends of sufferings which, as it were, scratched me on the surface. Yet like the scratches of fingernails, they produced inflamed spots, pus, and repulsive sores. That was my kind of life. Surely, my God, it was no real life at all?"

It was no real life because there was no real grief, no real mercy, no real objects of compassion but only "representations of [his] own miseries", and no real effect, but instead they only "fueled [his] fire" to continue in his pernicious lifestyle.

The Real World, circa 4th century A.D. "Surely, ... it was [not] real life at all."