In Our Midst (Christmas Homily)

"...eyes to see..."

"O taste and see that the Lord is good." Ps. 34:8

The goodness of God is not an abstraction, not a mere dog- matic assertion requiring no more than intellectual assent. Rather, the goodness of God is to be a sensory experience (and not the only one). It is meant to be tactile and fragrant, audible and visible and flavorful. This does not mean that you will suddenly receive complete comprehension of the incom- prehensible God. What it does mean is that His goodness is meant to be experienced in the actual moments of your life. It is to be a point of contact between you and the Divine, a moment of Incarnation, a moment where God leaves the ivory tower of your mind and becomes real in the midst of your experience.

As close as the house you're standing in.

If our God is hidden, it is because He is too immense and not because He is too obscure, like the house you're living in, which is the only one you don't see when you look out your window. It is too close for perception, and so is God. The incomprehensibly im- mense God is in your midst always, and though the limits of our mind cannot grasp Him fully, He is meant to be experienced. He is meant to be met in the moment. In ancient days, though veils and walls kept Him separate from His people, He still had a place amongst them, an actual dwelling in the Holiest of Holies. Today, though time and space and perception seem to separate us, He is not far from any one of us (Acts 17:26-28). Furthermore, He has made His people His dwelling place (John 14:23; II Cor. 6:16), a body fitly joined together (Eph. 4:15-16), so that He may be experienced by us as well as through us to the world (Matt. 5:14-16).

Our God believes in making Himself known, believes in revelation and incarnation, believes in proving Himself to be real. If he had not spoken through His word, if He had not come in the likeness of men, then we would have cause to call Him an obscurantist. But He did, so we do not. He has proven His presence (Is. 45:18-19; Heb. 1:1-2), he has proven His love (Rom. 5:8; I John 4:9-10), and He continually proves His goodness. Therefore, ask for eyes to see Him, to see His goodness, and to let that goodness build a monument to His presence in your life.

"I have not spoken in secret...."

-Jon Vowell (c) 2013

The Courage of Gandalf (is the courage to wait)

Wait for it....

"I would have fainted if I had not believed that I would see the goodness of the Lord in my life. Wait on the Lord. Be of good courage, and He shall strengthen your heart. Wait, I say, on the Lord." Ps. 27:13-14

We often equate courage with bravery and get nowhere because the two are synonyms. It is another dead-end tautology. The older (and truer) meaning of courage had to do with endurance. "Guts," as C.S. Lewis called it. Guts to endure, to hang on through the assault, through the storm, through the siege and the struggle. It has nothing to do with winning; the brave do not always win. Rather, it has to do with not giving in, to reach your breaking point and not break.

This is the meaning behind that strange aside Paul makes in Ephesians. After taking over five chapters to assert the romantically heroic image of our oneness in Christ, how God sees us in Him, how He has blessed us in Christ with every spiritual blessing so that we may edify the Church and do battle along side Him against the forces of spiritual darkness---after this vigorous onslaught, there comes an odd punctuation: "and having done all, to stand" (Eph. 6:13). It is as if victory is not the point. It is already won in Christ (I Cor. 15:57), but it is not the point. Endurance is the point. Holding on. Standing strong. Not moving forward but neither moving backward. Like Gandalf on the bridge of Khazad Dum, we stand as "a wizened tree before the onset of a storm." We cannot move, but they shall not pass.

This is why Psalm 27 equates courage with waiting on God. Waiting is the frustrating thing, the annoying thing, the gnawing, agonizing thing, but it is the courageous thing because it is the epitome of endurance, of hope, of faith. We wait and do not faint because we believe, not only that God is good, but that we will see His goodness with our own eyes, that we will taste it with our own lips. We believe in this hope, the hope of His goodness, of His promise to work all things out to our good. So we have courage: we wait. We endure, and in the midst of it all we find that God strengthens our heart for the endurance, because His goodness comes to those who wait.

-Jon Vowell (c) 2013

On Goodness (Homily 58)

"...men of the world who have their portion in this life, and whose belly You fill with Your hidden treasure. They are full of children and leave their substance to them. As for me, I will behold Your face in righteousness. I will be satisfied, when I awake, with Your likeness." Ps. 17:14-15

Scandalous!

Every good thing come from God (James 1:17), and He gives good things even to those who do not love Him (Matt. 5:44-45). He gives them passions to pursue and talents to realize those passions. He gives them minds to think and reason to arrive (in part) at the truth. He gives them hearts to love and the ability to find love, to see and appreciate beauty and desire its presence, to long for and attempt to deliver goodness to others. He gives them strength to accomplish things as well as various comforts to succor their weaknesses. He gives rain for their harvests and opportunities for their enterprises. He delivers their enemies into their hands and delivers them from their enemies. He gives them peaceful sleep and happy days, and all this without asking. It is and has been scandalous how good God is to those who do not love Him (Job 21:7-13; Ps. 73:2-5; Jer. 12:1-2). But there is one good thing He does not give them, for they do not, will not ask for it: Himself.

"I am restless for You."

God gives all good things because He is all good things. They find their source and being in Him and are meant to draw us to Him (Rom. 2:4) like rivers flowing to the ocean. The goodness of God belongs to all (Acts 14:17), but God Himself belongs only to His people, His children, His beloved and bride, to those who are satisfied with Him alone. One can never be satisfied with the goodness of God alone. You will always want more, reducing God to a blessing machine for your own avarice. But to have God Himself, to seek God and be found by God, is to find the Good behind the goodness and the goodness thrown in. Then His goodness is no longer a blessing but a bonus, for God is the blessing, the satisfaction of our souls (Ps. 42:1-2) when we taste and see that He is good (Ps. 34:8). Amen.

-Jon Vowell (c) 2013

Deliberate (Isaiah's Doxology, Part III)

"He has clothed me...He has covered me...as a bridegroom decks himself with ornaments and as a bride adorns herself with her jewels." Is. 61:10-11

The source of Isaiah's joy is not just that God's deliverance is absolute and total but also that it is neither arbitrary nor random. This is the meaning behind the next set of metaphors. Isaiah says that God has completely covered His people in deliverance and justification just like "a bridegroom decks himself with ornaments" and "a bride adorns herself with her jewels." The Hebrew words here are very interesting. "Decks" does mean "to dress," but it has specific religious connotations. The word literally means "to meditate," and thus is often used to mean "to dress as a priest for a religious service." The image is of purpose and function: you do not dress this way for just any reason or any day. There is a specific reason: it's your wedding day, or it's your turn to fulfill the priestly office. This is why the word means "to meditate": you do not meditate on the air or nothingness or anything that you want. Rather, you become focused, amassing all of your concentration on one thing. There is a purpose and function to what you're doing. Likewise, there is a purpose and function to God's deliverance and justification.

It's a Jared.

A bride adorns herself with "jewels," which in Hebrew means "something prepared or prearranged." The idea is not just of jewels but jewelry, i.e., not separate gemstones placed anywhere in any which way, but rather arranged in a pattern that matches and sequences color and size and shape into a single item whose parts enhance the whole. It is rich with purpose. Finding a lone jewel on the ground somewhere suggest no purpose, but finding them prearranged into jewelry does. There is a purpose and function; the thing is meant for a specific reason. In fact, the Hebrew word for "jewels" literally means any prepared or prearranged thing---the armor and weapons of a soldier or the luggage and bags of a traveler. The idea is the same: the prearrangement is all part of a larger plan and purpose (whether to make the bride more beautiful, the soldier more dangerous, or the traveler more prepared). So too is the deliverance and justification of God's people.

"That was deliberate!"

God does not cloth His people in salvation and righteousness, does not envelope them and hide them in deliverance and justification, just because. Redemption is not random. The Messiah did not set captives free on a whim, abandoning them right after the rescue. It is all deliberate, with a two-fold reason given at the beginning of the chapter: (1) "that they might be called trees of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, that He might be glorified," and (2) "they shall build the wastes of old, they shall raise up the former desolations, and they shall repair the waste cities" (vs. 3-4). Herein is the double-barreled purpose for those who belong to God: that God would be glorified in their redemption and that they would continue the work started by the Messiah. The first speaks to their identity and ultimate purpose. The second speaks to their activity and immediate purpose. Both are interconnected, one leading to the other.

The identity of one who belongs to God is one who has been swallowed up in deliverance and justification. Where once they were captives to sin, they now belong to God, and the transaction itself is glorious to God who wrought it. Now, our identity is the foundation of our activity. Who we are determines what we do. This is why identity is so vital to people (especially today when identity is a nebulous beast at best). Until we know who we are, our meaning is lost to us: we don't know why we're here or what we're meant to do. For most people, the best they can do is make a half-educated, half-guessed approximation and hope for the best. The identity of God's people, however, is not a guess on their part but a calling on His (Rom. 8:28-30). They are "called" the "trees" and "planting" of God, called to be absolutely God's---planted, watered, tended.

This identity is not something we make for ourselves. It is something we are made by God, and there is the ground for glorifying God: we are the work of His hands, not our own. Any strength we have, any good we do, any purpose we find all comes from the life we've been given by Him. That is our ultimate purpose, viz., to let all that we do be an act if worship to the one who made us His own. Worship is to be our life, because we are God's and God is ours.

What that life of worship looks like leads us to the activity of those who belong to God: praise is to be the permanent pulse of their existence. But there is more to praise than singing and music. It is not less than that, but it is more. The way they worship is to continue on the work of the Messiah, the work of redemption, the "ministry of reconciliation" begun by Him (II Cor. 5:18-19). It is what Jesus meant when He called His own "salt" and "light" (Matt. 5:13-16): they savor and preserve all things with goodness and beauty and truth, and bear bright witness to God's goodness and beauty and truth. Men will see their works and glorify their Father who is in heaven.

"It's simple, really."

This is the place of "good works" in the Christian Faith, and it is the solution to James' paradox (James 2:14-26). To say that "faith without works is dead" is to assume that activity springs from identity, and if your identity is one who belongs to God then your activity will necessarily be good works that glorify Him before men. If there is no activity, then there is no identity. If there are no works in any shape or form, then your faith is not real, i.e., it is "dead". Paul is saying the exact same thing when talks of the "fruits if the Spirit" (Gal. 5:16-25): if we belong to God, if we are now the people of the living God (II Cor. 6:16) wherein His Spirit dwells (I Cor. 6:19-20), then there will necessarily be certain results, certain quantifiable ways of worship. If there are none, then you do not belong to God. It is that simple, that practical.

Only star-gazers change the world.

Everybody seems to miss the practical side of our doctrines, which is not how it should be. Christianity is practical mysticism, i.e., its divine realities are meant to be practical realities. Its word is to be made flesh. To belong to God, to be wrapped up safe and snug inside of His deliverance and justification, is not to become some airy abstraction. On the contrary, it has purpose and function, identity and activity, just as a bride and groom prepare for their wedding day, or as a priest prepares for his duties. You would not see a groom in his glory, dressed in his finest and surrounded by his "best men," and accuse him of impractical abstractionism. You would not look upon the bride in her beauty, in shining white and sparkling jewels arranged in perfect accentuation, and dismiss her as a hopeless day-dreamer whose actions have no function. You would not (though some might dare) consider a priest, dressed in his robes and rushing towards the church with bible and books in hand and glasses tilted down his nose, and say that his garb and gestures served no purpose. There is a purpose, whether you like it or not.

It is the same with those who belong to God, who have been buried deep into salvation and righteousness. They have been bought with a price and decked out for a purpose so that they might glorify God in their body and in their spirit, which our God's.

-Jon Vowell (c) 2013

"It is not the one thing...." (The Perilous Balance)

Christianity is not love. It is not peace, nor justice, nor joy, nor goodness, nor beauty, nor moderation, nor wisdom. It is not about compassion to the oppressed or violence to the oppressor, neither the defense of the weak nor the defiance of the strong. It is not about truth. It is not about experience. It is not any one of these things. Rather, it is every one of these things all working in tandem to create a whole that is not reducible to its parts. To reduce it is to lose it; it is a perilous balance.

Orthodoxy is not any one thing. It is all ideals and virtues and good things working together in a tight, unbreakable, irreducible oneness, for it is the very truth of God, who is the summation of all ideals and virtues and good things in a tight, unbreakable, irreducible oneness. As our God is all good things working together in one person, and as the fruits of His Spirit are all good things working in our person, and as the Body of His Christ are many members with many gifts spread out across nations, tribes, and tongues all working together whether they realize it or not, so too Orthodoxy is an ingenious collaboration of all truth working together into a singular creed.

In our Father's house are many rooms, rooms for many and all shades of His glory, all facets of His beauty. The pacifists are there as well as the militant, the Franciscans as well as the Dominicans. The apologist and the artist and the social worker are there. The high church and the low are there, the traditional and the contemporary. All good things, all things true and honorable and just and pure and lovely and commendable and excellent and praiseworthy, all these things are ours for the taking, the thinking, the doing. All are acceptable to God. Let no mouth open to gainsay any of them. Let no brother gainsay his sister, and let no sister gainsay her brother. Let no pacifist gainsay the militant, and let no militant gainsay the pacifist. All belong in the balance; the absurdity called pacifism will balance the insanity called militancy.

Let all things be done in the image of our God, who is peaceful and wrathful, true and beautiful, compassionate and holy, human and divine. Let no heresy rise to reduce Him; let no ignorance rise to diminish Him. Not because He can be reduced or diminished, but because the reduction and the diminishment does damage to the heretic and ignorant (those terrible simplifiers), causing them to lose the whole that is God, for God is a whole. A single, simple whole who is irreducible and indiminishable. He is an infinitely faceted jewel, a stained-glass window whose design and beauty knows no end or paraphrasing, and is large enough to hold all good and true and beautiful things in His hands.

-Jon Vowell (c) 2013

Spider-Man and the Moral Force of Beauty

"Let the beauty of the Lord our God be upon us and establish the work of our hands...." Ps. 90:17 (KJV)

Our God is beautiful. In an abstract sense, He is Beauty: the source, summation, and perfection of all that is beautiful. In a practical sense, however, He is beautiful to us: our senses, our hearts, and our sentiments. The Hebrew word used for "beauty" in this verse is "no'am," which means (amongst other things) someone or something that creates delight to the beholder. It is not beauty in the void but rather beauty beheld, gazed upon, contemplated, and desired (Ps. 27:4). It is not a static thing but a dynamic thing, because it drives us to do something. Something to please it. Something to make it proud. Thus, our delight in God's "delightfulness" is what establishes the work of our hands.

The parallels to romantic love are impossible to ignore. Naturally, I'm not referring to mere lust or affectionate infatuation (i.e., a "crush"), but a true and deep soul-stirring and -shattering reaction caused by one who can only be described as "beloved," the one who is loved. For the beauty of the beloved, the young man will make a fool of himself with sappy poems or silly treats or stupid feats; he will exhaust himself in charming idiocy. For the beauty of the beloved, the older man will not leave her for any other; who she is makes him whole. It's like that great American philosopher and film icon Peter Parker said in Spider-man about Mary Jane: "You know what kind of man you wanna be." Of course, I can only speak for men, since I am one by the accident of birth. However, I am sure that women can think of their own parallels to the theme: the beauty of the beloved establishes the work of your hands.

Remember, this is not about outward appearance; this is about delightfulness, which is something more all-encompassing. God is a Spirit and has no outer form, and yet He creates beauty in those who behold Him. The mystery of that paradox is deep, but the point here is that beauty is far greater than outward show; it is about finding deep, abiding joy in someone because of who they are. Everyone who's ever been and is still in love knows what I'm talking about: it's as if the other person fills up the whole room. Not necessarily because of their personality or their physical shape, but because it's them.  They are beautiful; you cannot reduce it to one thing, for to reduce it is to lose it and make an idol out of one of their many facets.

This is what makes beauty, true delightfulness, so important. Beauty has moral force, for good or ill. In the best case, it will create true love, which will drive you towards acts of true goodness. So in Paradise Lost, Satan himself is struck "stupidly good" when he sees the unfallen beauty of Eve (IX.455-66). In the worst case, false beauty (evil and error disguised as beauty) will create perverted love, which will drive you towards destructive ends. So in "Book I" of The Faerie Queene, Redcross is turned from the journey of holiness by the false beauty of Duessa. In either case, beauty has great moral power: it shapes our sentiments, which in turn shapes our actions, which in turn shapes our culture (esp. our arts and entertainment), which in turn shapes us further. It is an inevitable and valuable as well as perilous cycle, especially if it falls into the wrong hands: moral milksops with shallow views of everything, or moral perverts who have exchanged beauty for ugliness.

For the Christian, the beauty of God is our moral force. The beauty of who He is and what He has done creates delight and desire and love, which in turn constrains us to do (II Cor. 5:14-15; John 14:15). We do not "do" out of duty or fear but love, love for our beloved, the Beloved, who has called us His children and brothers and sisters and friends and lovers and every affectionate and intimate name and category that we have. In the name and for the love of our Beloved, let us go and do. Let the beauty of the Lord our God be upon us, and let it establish the work of our hands. Let our works be acts of goodness and compassion to the outcast and suffering. Let our works be acts of truth and reason against the skeptic and the madman. And (perhaps above all) let our works be acts of beauty and wonder and glory in our culture, filling it with songs and books and works of light. Let it season like salt our goodness and truth. They too must be acts of beauty, for the way to a man or woman's mind, soul, and body is through their heart.

-Jon Vowell (c) 2013

The Sacrament of Waiting (Homily 49)

"...they shall not be ashamed that wait for Me." Is. 49:23b

Trust is a matter of waiting. Waiting to see what happens. Waiting to see what unfolds. Waiting to see how it all turns out. Waiting to know whether or not the endeavor was successful, or the enterprise was worth it, or the action had its consequences, or the person kept their word. Trust is all a waiting game, a frustrating yet common game, feeling more like a necessary evil than a necessity.

Waiting is not about sitting still or inactivity. On the contrary, waiting is often when we are at our busiest. We fill out applications. We make calls, make connections. Go to this place and that. Get involved in this thing or that. We make assessments, weigh options, keep our eyes open and ears to the ground, and do our research, all while continually puttering about in our daily work and hobbies and habits. Truly, waiting is more than a static thing. You could almost call it an ecstatic thing: we feel ready to explode at any moment.

Reality is always a paradox on some level, and intimately woven into our bustle is waiting. No calls have been returned. No letters (for good or ill) have been received. No significant or special someone has presented themselves. No one rewards or even seems to acknowledge any of your contributions. Therein is the paradox. In the very midst or all our doings, we can only sit, sit, sit, sit, sit. And we do not like it, not one little bit.

Waiting is a frustration for anyone, but for the child of God it need not be a source of despair, for as said earlier waiting is where trust begins. Even after our best efforts to make something happen, there is always the period of silence and uncertainty. Into that void come doubts and fears and the diabolic death spiral that pulls us into ourselves: "What else could I have done? I should have done more! It's all on me!" It is not all on you, and that is what the silence teaches us.

The book of Isaiah is saturated with the promises of God, complete with fantastic proclamations and wild resolutions so unexpected and counter-intuitive that you would think God is mad. But He is not mad. He is the only sanity left, and He is teaching us how to think straight. The times of waiting are for our sanity, viz., they are meant to turn us to God. "This thing is not in my hands. It is too big for me." That is the beginning of sanity and peace.

When the waiting does finally end (as all waiting does), it will be so much sweeter than any instant gratification, for "thou shalt know that I am the Lord" (vs. 23). If things were easy, then God would be as unreal as vapor. It is in the trying that He is made real. In the birth pangs, He is enfleshed. If we would have a real God in our lives, then we must let the waiting play itself out. We must go about our business in hopeful expectation of God's goodness. That is how we live. That is how we trust. That is how we taste and see that the Lord is good. Amen.

-Jon Vowell (c) 2013

The Eucatastrophic God (as explained by an orthodox rebel)

"The wilderness and the solitary places shall be glad for them; and the desert shall rejoice and blossom as the rose. It shall blossom abundantly, and rejoice with joy and singing...." Is. 35:1-2

Our God is a loving God. He is love (I John 4:8), a fighting love; not shallow and inconsequential toleration, but a love that kills and is killed for the Beloved. A love that cannot be boxed in or limited, because it is the love of God, and God will not be boxed in or limited except by Himself in covenant (Heb. 6:13-14) and Incarnation (Phil. 2:5-8), in short, in love. It is the paradoxes of God's love that make Him frustrating to a pure rationalist. God is rational, in that all that He does is consistent with Himself; but He is also more than merely rational, and often His consistencies are hidden from our eyes. They are too big for us to see.

This is not simply a matter of accepting God's "bigness," but rather realizing (wondrously, gladly) that He is a "big" person, and as a person He is not reducible to some analytical system of propositions. Of course, such systems are useful as tools, especially certain systems of philosophy or theology. Nevertheless, we must remember (as often as we forget) that our faith, hope, and love is neither in nor directed towards systems that make sense. Rather, they are in and directed towards a Person who loves and thus is full of surprises, for love is full of surprises. To desire and demand (as we often do) an answer for everything, an answer that is neat and tidy and merely rational, is to love some system more than a person, to worship philosophy and theology rather than God.

Many of the hardest "problems" leveled against the Christian Faith could be handle much more magnificently if we would just remember this one fundamental Christian assertion: God is great (i.e., is bigger and thus more inscrutable and unfathomable than we can imagine), God is good (i.e., He loves, and thus is a person who loves, and thus is full of unguessable surprises of goodness and love). Just look at the mind-boggling character and quality of His grace (viz., in redemption). It is logical, in that it flows logically from who God is; and yet logic could never have discovered it on its own, for it is a product of divine revelation rather than logical deduction. It is a surprise that makes sense; glorious, wonderful sense.

Look at Isaiah. In chapter 34, God left utterly desolate the city that injured His beloved. Now, in chapter 35, a new chord is struck: "The wilderness and the solitary place shall be glad for them." The "them" in this verse (KJV) is referring back to the animals and wild beasts that have taken up residence in the desolate city and thus confirming its desolation (Is. 34:11-15). Why be glad at such a sad picture? Because it signaled the beginning of glory, the "glory" and "excellency" of the Lord (Is. 35:2b), full of happy turns and sudden surprises: the desert will blossom into a garden (vs. 1-2), weak hands and knees will be strengthened (vs. 3-4), and the blind will see and deaf hear and lame walk and dumb speak (vs. 5-6) as the wilderness and parched, thirsty grounds become filled with water and grass lands (vs. 6-7). At every point, God is turning the world upside-down, turning the vain, prideful beauties of the world into ash and the poor, desolate places of the world into things of beauty and paths of holiness (vs. 8-9).

This is an absolute turn around. This is redemption. This is resurrection. This is the awesome and inscrutable activity of a God who loves and thus is full of surprises, and there is no greater surprises than this: God has chosen the foolish things to confound the wise, and the weak things to confound the mighty. He has chosen base and despised things and things that are not to bring to naught things that are, for the foolishness of God is wiser than man, and the weakness of God is stronger than man, so that all flesh may glory in nothing but Him (I Cor. 1:25-29), the Great-Good God whose unpredictable grace cuts deeper than we know and does exceedingly, abundantly more than we can ever imagine. That is who we worship: not principles, not propositions, not deductions, but the personal-infinite God of love whose grace is greater than all our systems as well as our sin.

-Jon Vowell (c) 2013

Homily Magnus: Ends and Means (as preached by an orthodox rebel)

"O Lord, Thou art my God. I will exalt Thee, I will praise Thy name, for Thou hast done wonderful things.... For Thou hast made a heap of the city, a ruin of the fortified city...." Is. 25:1-2

In the previous chapter, Isaiah had been going on and on about the desolations of God. Then, without missing a beat, he praises God for the "wonderful things" that He has done, and those "wonderful things" are those desolations. This reasoning would seem mad at best and masochistic at worst if not for the fact that the desolations of God are never about themselves. They are not the temper tantrums of the divine, but rather the purging out of imperfection in His people (Is. 1:25). In short, God's desolations are always leading towards glory; specifically in Isaiah's case, the glory of God's coming kingdom (Is. 24:23), the deliverance of the weak (Is. 25:4), and the death of death (Is. 25:8). These glories are ours as well, for the desolations of the Lord are always working towards greater and greater glory (Rom. 11:25-36).

In light of this, it would seem that the ends do in fact justify the means, but only if those ends so greatly outweigh and outshine those means that the latter fade into insignificance. Such thinking is radical (and surely offensive), but it is also apparent within the New Testament: "For I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory that shall be revealed in us" (Rom. 8:18). In view of the "exceeding and eternal weight of glory" that is waiting for us, all of our afflictions are deemed "light" by comparison (II Cor. 4:17). This is shocking language, but it is the language of the Bible. We, whose lives are consistently shaped by tragedy, are told that those tragedies are moving us towards something so magnificent, so unspeakable wonderful, that before it all our tragedies will shrink and shrivel away into the smallness beyond thought. To some, this understandably may seem to be an insensitivity to our condition as humans; for me, I see it as a beautiful hope for our condition.

Yet that hope is even greater than I have stated, and that in two ways. The first is in the nature of that glory, viz., it is "Christ in us, the hope of glory" (Col. 1:27). This glory is not some vague mystical abstraction but a concrete identity. We are to be "conformed into the image" of Christ (Rom. 8:29), who is "the image of the invisible God" (Col. 1:15), and in whom "the fullness of the Godhead" dwell (Col. 2:9). The glory that we are moving towards is the very glory of God Himself. We are moving closer and closer, and deeper and deeper, into a oneness with Him (John 14:20; 17:3, 23), so that "when He shall appear, we shall be like Him, for we shall see Him as He is" (I John 3:2). Thus will begin the "manifestation" and "glorious liberty" of the children of God, where God's glory will rain through His children to the redemption of all things (Rom. 8:19-21). And we and all creation will dance in that glory as lover with lover, for it is Love that bade us come and Love that brought us in and Love that keeps us in (Rom. 8:31-39).

The second way that our hope is even greater than I have said is in this: I actually misspoke earlier when I said that our tragedies and pains will fade to insignificance in the light of our coming glory. It is not quite right to say that, for "all things work together for good" for those who are called to God's purpose of glory (Rom. 8:28-30), and "all things" includes our tragedies as well. It is still true to say that the ends justify the means, but it is because the means will be gloriously justified before our eyes. They will find their significance. They will not fade, for they too will find their place in the infinite goodness of God. When the grey rain curtain of this world rolls away, and our eyes see the good country all hearts long to have, we will see that our pain and sorrow has infused every blade of grass and ray of sunshine, making them even more glorious. When the tapestry of God turns to us at last, so that we move from its back to its front and what was once a gibberish of stitches reveals itself to be a glorious pattern of color and beauty, we will also see our pains, our broken hearts and broken bodies, woven into the whole, adding to the pattern, accentuating the colors, and bringing more beauty than it had before. When we see Him, and are like Him, and watch His glory unfold and unfurl like a banner of victory across the stars, then we will find the words of Job on our lips: "Oh! Now I see."

We shall see. We shall see the significance, the consummation, the great and glorious meaning behind it all. We shall behold the King in His Beauty, and all action and activity will converge in Him and through us like a myriad of mirrors all reflecting back the light of the Sun. And in the light of that glory and grace, every part will find its place, even the ones that hurt the most. That is hope. Live in that hope. Amen.

-Jon Vowell (c) 2012

Homily 39: On Charity and Giving (as preached by an orthodox rebel)

"As every man purposes in his heart, so let him give; not grudgingly or out of compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver." II Cor. 9:7

Paul has just finished complimenting the Corinthians on their naturally charitable spirit, and he instructs them to be prepared to demonstrate their charity to some visiting Christians so that his "boasting" will not be "in vain" (vs. 1-5). Then he lays down some precedents about giving, two negative and one positive. The first negative is "λυπης", which is translated "grudgingly". The word means to do an action that causes grief or pain and thus results in annoyance or sour reluctance to do said action. Paul discourages giving based on such gloomy foundations. The second negative is "αναγκη", which is translated "compulsion". The word means to do an action out of constraint or imposition, whether by the law, duty, threat, or mere circumstance. Paul also discourages this giving out of dutiful necessity. The lone positive is "ίλαρος", which is translated "cheerful". The word means to do an action solely on the basis of joy and good cheer. It is this basis for giving that Paul encourages, and it suggests a very astounding thought: if we are to have true charity, then we must have true joy first.

It is a shame that "ίλαρος" gets translated as "cheerful," because the word today has more bad than good connotations. The exact image we generate in our heads is not completely certain, but I image that we picture some goofy-grinned imbecile who is too stupid to realize how horrible the world really is. "Cheer up" is often considered a cheap sentiment to hurting hearts, and to be known as "cheery" can be considered a backhanded compliment. Likewise, a "cheerful giver" seems highly unattractive, sounding like code for doing your duty while faking enjoyment. It is unfortunate, however, that it is unattractive, because it ought to be the most attractive thing. God is not looking for smarmy smiles  and syrupy souls (whether they be sincere or not). What He is looking for, what He asks for and loves, and He alone can give, is joy: abiding, unshakeable joy in God and His goodness and great love that he has demonstrated for us in Christ (Ps. 43:3-5; Ps. 100:1-5; Rom. 5:6-8).

God is not looking for "cheery" givers but joyous givers, givers saturated in the joy of the Lord, joy in His unbreakable promises and his unstoppable power to keep them in Christ (II Cor. 1:19-21; II Pet. 1:2-4). Thus comes the astounding part (and how we miss it today!): If you want to be more giving, more charitable to others (in whatever way), then do not ask God for money or means or a stronger sense of duty. Rather, ask Him for joy, joy unspeakable in your great God. Ask Him to fill your cup to the brim with joy, to fill your whole soul with its enduring substance. Ask Him for joy, and charity cannot help but follow, for joy is the only foundation for charity, even the very charity of God (Rom. 5:8; Heb. 12:2).

-Jon Vowell (c) 2012

The Goodness of God (The Ministers of God, Part 3)

"...in all things we commend ourselves as the ministers of God...by pureness, by knowledge, by long-suffering, by kindness, by the Holy Spirit, by love unfeigned, by the word of truth, by the power of God, by the weapons of righteousness on the right hand and the left...." II Cor. 6: 4a, 6-7

Paul established that we, as new creations, are now the ministers of God, i.e., those who proclaim the gospel of reconciliation with God. Next, he established the hard truth that we are to be such ministers in the midst of every situation, especially times of personal, social, or ministerial distress. Such a truth can seem highly depressing in its negativity, but Paul immediately follows it up with another truth, a great and comforting truth: we are to prove ourselves to be the ministers of God in every situation by the might of good things, of which he lists three kinds: the good for ourselves, the good for others, and the good for battle.

"...by pureness, by knowledge, by long-suffering...." This is what is good for us: neither naivete nor mere factualness and fortitude, but rather an innocence that is both wise and patient. Evil, in all its horrible depths, is understood fully, but as a concept and not a practice. Its presence has no place in us, but its presence also does not surprise us. We know that it exists, and we are not ignorant of its devices. Such a state of innocent, enduring wisdom is not in our power to create; it is all the gift of God who alone purifies (Titus 2:11-14) and gives both wisdom and patience (James 1:5, 17). And it is in such a state that we prove ourselves to be the ministers of God: by His goodness we have been freed from evil's snares, and yet He teaches us its ways so that we may walk carefully and effectively and wisely without weariness or fear amidst a perverse and crooked generation. In short, we prove ourselves to be ministers of the gospel by living out its direct effects: innocence, wisdom, and patience.

"...by kindness, by the Holy Spirit, by love unfeigned...." This is what is good for others: a genuine affection that is produced by God and produces acts of genuine goodwill. This world is full of lost and broken people, and they need neither our moralism nor our activism. What they need is a sincere love that finds its source in the God who is love (I John 4:7-8) and leads to acts of love (Matt. 22:37-40; I John 5:3). In short, we prove ourselves to be ministers of the gospel when the indwelt Holy Spirit of God lives and acts out through us the very heartbeat of the gospel: love (Rom. 5:5-8; I John 4:7-10). He who does not love does not know God and can never be a minister of His gospel.

"...by the word of truth, by the power of God, by the weapons of righteousness on the right hand and the left...." This Christian life is a battle. Walking in a dark world amongst fallen people who cannot see their true affliction (II Cor. 4:3-4) and thus do not desire their true salvation (Rom. 3:10-11) is perilous, for we are surrounded by and continually engaged with great spiritual evil (Eph. 6:12). We are "in the thick," and this is what is good for it: God's truth, God's power, and God's righteousness. These things are all at our disposal, for God has given us His truth (John 16:13) and His power (II Tim. 1:7) and His righteousness (I Cor. 1:30; II Cor. 5:21; Phil. 3:8-9), and it is by the might of these things that we fight the good fight. We battle against ugly lies and the blinding dark, not by our wits and cleverness, but by the all-piercing truth of the Lord of Light (Heb. 4:12-13). We battle against all the guile and malice of Hell's temptations, not by our own strengths and talents, but by the all-consuming power of the God who loves us (Rom. 8:31-39). We battle against all the vain and wicked ways of the world, not by our own pious moralizing, but by the working out of the inward righteousness of God, which is Christ in us and we in Christ (Rom. 13:12-14; Col. 3:3; John 14:20, 17:23).

In sum, we prove ourselves to be the ministers of God's gospel because we are living proof that that gospel is true. It has made us innocent of evil and yet wise to its ways and patient in its presence. It has indwelt us with the Spirit of love who works in us a genuine affection producing genuine kindness to all. And it has given us all that God is, so that we may fight the damned dark, not as mere men and women, but as new creations, born of God by faith in Christ through the hearing of the gospel of reconciliation (Rom. 10:17). By the might of God's goodness, we are saved; and by the might of that same goodness, we prove ourselves to be the ministers of so great a salvation. We best show our allegiance when we live like the gospel is real.

-Jon Vowell (c) 2012