IVP - Strangely Dim - Stuff About the Kingdom of God Archives

The Church's One Foundation

This year--appropriately on Pentecost--marks the seventy-fifth anniversary of the Barmen Declaration, a document drafted by theologian Karl Barth and adopted by the Confessing Churches of Germany in 1934 as a confrontation of accommodationist religion and totalitarian government in fledgling Nazi Germany. The document is short and inextricably linked to the details of the day, but it's nonetheless been embraced worldwide as a historic confessional statement, rightly establishing where the church's source of strength solely lies and the boundaries that God has ordained for human government. Here's an excerpt of this brief statement:

The Church of pardoned sinners . . . has to testify in the midst of a sinful world, with its faith as with its obedience, with its message as with its order, that it is solely his property, and that it lives and wants to live solely from his comfort and from his direction in the expectation of his appearance.

To a government and cultural movement that desired to be as totalizing in its worldview as it was in its claims to power, the confessing churches of Germany appropriately shouted "Nein!" We are not the property of governments even of our own making; we are children of the God who made us, and we're to live and move and have our being as such. It begs the question, Who needs to hear this from me today? Where do I need to testify this today?

Keeping in Touch

When some of you saw the title "Keeping in Touch," I imagine your sweet hearts leapt with hope that this post is my firm, telling-the-world, turning-over-a-new-leaf resolution to finally be better about staying in contact with all of you. Unfortunately, I've tried the firm resolution route before and failed every time. Which is why you still don't hear from me.

But. You do, after all, have Strangely Dim to let you know I'm still alive and to give you a peek at what I'm thinking about. And here's the latest thing I'm ruminating on: keeping in touch with the world. I know--that sounds a little ambitious for someone who couldn't even keep a penpal growing up because I didn't write back often enough. But a number of events recently--both personal and global--have impressed on me anew the importance of learning about other people's reality. I'm scared by how easy it is--particularly, it seems to me, in the suburbs where I live--for me to go through a day thinking largely about myself--my own needs, my own schedule, the details of my day. Some of this, of course, is necessary; I need to pay my bills and do my job and show up for my commitments. As a follower of Christ, though, I'm seeing more and more how essential it is to be connected in some way to the reality of others--whether it's praying for people and situations all over the world through International Justice Mission's prayer-request lists, or reading a book like Greg Mortenson's Three Cups of Tea that gives me a picture of the hardships and hope of people in Pakistan or Afghanistan, or attending a benefit for an organization like World Relief that helps resettle refugees who've experienced deep trauma in their home countries, or keeping up with the news out of China and Myanmar.

These are small attempts, granted. Even with them I still get quickly and easily consumed by my own worries and concerns. Some days I wonder (like you might be wondering now), what's the point? How does a thought for others--my own little glimpse into their reality--help them out?

Well, maybe it doesn't. Maybe I am fighting a pointless battle or even just playing a game to make myself feel more spiritual. When I hear of the suffering of others, I do often feel the uselessness of my far-away compassion and thoughts. But what's the alternative? To turn a deaf ear? To be "ever hearing but never understanding; . . . ever seeing but never perceiving," as Jesus described the crowds to the disciples in Matthew 13? Jesus could never be accused of that--and as his follower, called to be like him, I don't want it to be true of me either.

The fact is, self-absorption is too natural for my sinful self that, if I'm not intentionally looking for ways to learn about or be reminded of someone else's reality, I'll start to believe (with help from our culture and advertising) that my life and reality are what matters most, and what most people experience--when really nothing could be further from the truth. Ironically, one reason I need to remember others is for me--to keep me from the self-centeredness that is tantalizingly easy to slip into. My small attempts are, in part, my way of keeping perspective on the world--both God's view of it and my place and role in it.

Furthermore, caring about--even when I can't actually care for--others is teaching me more and more about the heart of God that beats so compassionately and lovingly for the refugees, the children forced into slavery and prostitution, the homeless in Myanmar and Chicago. My glimpses of these people's realities give me a deeper glimpse into the heart of God.

Once we start looking, there are hundreds of ways and places to learn about the reality of others who live an extraordinarily different life than we do. It's something we can help each other do as followers of Christ, called to be like him. Post your comments about who you're mindful of and trying to learn more about. Are there books, movies, websites, organizations that help you get outside of yourself and learn about another person's life? Share them with us. (Then we'll feel like we're in touch again!!)

Let me add a caveat: It's certainly not only the thought that counts. Taking action in the ways we can in the places we're called to is essential. But for all the places we can't, thoughts and prayers really do matter in keeping us in touch with who God is, what his kingdom is like and who we're called to be as his people.

See the Beauty

It's finally warming up here (for those of you south of, say, Virginia, "warming up" means "moving out of the forties," "warm enough to take a walk without snow boots on," "smoothie-worthy weather," etc.). Spring is not my favorite season, but it does inspire me. I think it's a powerful time of year. Green grass that's very ordinary in summer and fall is beautiful and vibrant and bright to me in spring. Pink and yellow and purple flowers seem especially pink and yellow and purple. Having the car windows down makes driving feel less like a headache-inducing, anger-filled chore and more like a treat. In this change from winter to spring I find myself noticing things--the newness and novelty and beauty of them.

I've been particularly moved by a plant (which, sadly, has not been named yet; feel free to post suggestions) my sister and I have in our apartment. Small pink flowers have bloomed on it, and each time I water it I'm struck by their brightness and beauty (which, granted, are not fully captured in the picture):

Maybe I get so excited about these small flowers because they give me a sense of pride and accomplishment: this plant is still alive and apparently thriving six months after we bought it. But I don't think that's the only reason. The simple bright beauty of the flowers stirs something in me: wonder, joy, gratitude.

So I'm wondering what stirs you, friends. And wondering if you know how important it is. I'm coming to see more and more how essential it is for me and, I'm convinced, for all of us. In a broken world where evil shows up all over, noticing the beauty around you, paying attention to what moves you, to the things that stir wonder in your soul, is crucial. Whatever it is--whether nature, art, poetry, music, kindness, a three-year-old boy with Down syndrome signing "love" to his mom for the first time--notice it. Celebrate it. Thank God. Thank him that he has created us to be moved by true beauty (as opposed to empty, false "beauty" that's been culturally crafted and defined), and that we can still see it and be moved by it, even after the Fall. These stirrings remind us and call us back to what is truly good and beautiful. And they give us a glimpse of God himself--his creativity, goodness and love of beauty--and his kingdom that is here on earth in part and will be revealed in its fullness when Christ returns.

Sara Groves's song "Why It Matters" says,

Sit with me and tell me once again . . .

Of the beauty, of the beauty

Why it matters . . .

Like the statue in the park

Of this war torn town

And it's protest of the darkness

And the chaos all around

With its beauty, how it matters

How it matters

Noticing the beauty in this Strangely Dim world does matter. It matters so much. So on this spring day, wherever you are, notice what causes your breath to catch, causes something deep inside you to come alive. Notice that beauty. Thank God. And add to it.