Getting Ready for Rough

It’s time for some New Year’s Resolutions. But first a contemplation of the Lilliputians. Remember how small they were? Remember how Gulliver really didn’t have to worry about them, so he lay down for a nap, and when he awoke he was tied down by hundreds of small threads that would have been inconsequential one by one. However, with thousands of threads holding down every part of his body the restraining force was more than he could resist.

Often our resolutions fail, not for lack of desire on our part, but for the unexpected resistance from so many angles! Jesus said that before we decide to follow Him, we should count the cost. Maybe that is still true after we have been following Him for many years. Maybe we have to count the cost every time His Spirit prompts us to change a behavior.

Are we ready for the friends who will sigh and ask us to change back? Or for those who will angrily demand that we change back? Or for our own feelings of withdrawal? Or for the hollowness we feel after we have said goodbye to whatever attachment had become so dear to us?

Every new behavior requires some time to establish. The same is true of uprooting a behavior. In fact, uprooting may be harder than planting. Here’s just one “for instance”: There are foods I am dismissing from my diet, but Lilliputian resistance fights against it: social settings where those foods are present, my own appetite, old habits, restaurant menus, how I like to fill small chunks of time, how I like to fill small corners of my belly, my old negative images of “vegans”, and much more.

Can I foresee all the pressure I may receive—pressure to change back? Probably not. But the more I identify, the better prepared I will be to say, “Ah! Another Lilliputian, I see. I was expecting this one.” Then I can break that one little thread before I get held down by the overwhelming many.

How many Lilliputian threads can you identify that are currently holding you to the habit you are trying to change? Can you get ready for the rough times of snapping each thread? It does get easier as you go.

Merry Christmas (War Is Over)

As an adolescent one of my favorite songs was John Lennon’s “Happy Xmas (War Is Over)” I liked the tune, but even more I loved the idea of no more war. We were still at war in Vietnam and on our college campuses. I knew that in a few years I would be drafted to fight in a war that seemed senseless. Lennon’s children sang “War is over. If you want it, war is over now.” A sweet sentiment. Of course, many people wanted it, but the war dragged on. So much for sentiment.

Wouldn’t it be nice if we could end any war that we decided to quit fighting? The good news is that because of Christmas we hold the power to do just that. Here’s the rationale: It takes two “yeses” to make a marriage, but only one “no” to cause divorce. Similarly, it takes only one “no” to create war. Peace comes by “yesses” from both sides. In war there is usually a hostile invasion and a resistance, but not always. My father-in-law aided the Dutch resistance during World War II by forging documents. In Amsterdam there is a Museum keeping alive the memory of the resistance. Holland was small and weak. Resistance was wiser than an open fight. But resistance can go too far as we will see in a bit.

As a child I read the Revised Standard Version of the Bible. Genesis 9:13 says, “I set my bow in the cloud, and it shall be a sign of the covenant between me and the earth.” I grew up thinking that “bow” was a pretty, poetic term for “rainbow”; somewhat like tying up a bow on a package. Lois Tverberg disagrees. She says the Hebrew word, keshet, which many today translate as “rainbow” really means “bow” in the military sense. Everywhere else in the Bible it is used that way.

So, God, after trying to solve the sin problem by declaring war on human life, decided to quit fighting. He set down His bow in the clouds “even though every inclination of [man’s] heart is [still] evil from childhood” (Gen 8:21, NIV). He knew the war was not over, but He quit fighting. The flood proves that we live only because of the self-restraint of God. If He were still at war with us, no power on earth could resist Him. We cannot resist His aggression, but we can resist His coaching.

At Christmas Immanuel ushered in the age of being coached. He taught, then He sent us the Counselor. We are so petty that we interpret the invitation to change as an act of war. And that is why the war continues today. God is done fighting, but we are not. Our little fists are clenched. Our little feet stomp the dust. When will we wear ourselves out and simply lay down our bows? When will we accept His coaching and allow our lives to be turned around? When will we will the war to cease? Maybe at Christmas? “If you want it, war is over now.”

Lost in Translation

I finished an excellent book today: Listening to the Language of the Bible: Hearing It Through Jesus’ Ears. Authors Lois Tverberg and Bruce Okkema explain idioms and assumptions that were current in Jesus’ time in order for us to catch the richness of Jesus’ expressions. The book ends by looking at a phrase that has always mystified me. In fact the widely differing translations of this statement of Jesus show that the translators were struggling to capture the most likely meaning of a rich phrase. Hebrew has a relatively small vocabulary, so many words do double and triple duty.

Jesus is telling people what is happening due to John the Baptist’s preaching. He says, “From the days of John the Baptist until now the kingdom of heaven suffers violence, and violent men take it by force” (Matthew 11:12, RSV). I wondered how heaven could suffer, and why violent men could take it. But the NIV reads, “…the kingdom of heaven has been forcefully advancing, and forceful men lay hold of it.” This makes the kingdom sound more secure, but it is still at the mercy of forceful men. I knew I was missing something.

If one were to scrutinize this text, the choice of translation would make a huge difference to his or her conclusion and application. Tverberg suggests a much better way to read it. She explains that “poretz” means “to break forth” and Jesus seems to be alluding to Micah 2:12-13 which says that “One who opens the way (haporetz) will go up before them; they will break through (poretz) the gate and go out. The king will pass before them, the Lord at their head.” The people knew that the “one who breaks open the way” was the messenger who would cause people to repent and be ready. Then the sheep would explode out to follow the Shepherd King; a messianic allusion.

This made sense to the people who knew how shepherds would gather their sheep into a cave and build a small stone wall to keep them in. In the morning when the sheep were hungry, a man would roll away some of the stones (forcefully break the wall) and the sheep would stampede out (forcefully exit) to start grazing. What a joyous picture of the breaking forth of the gospel and of the people’s eager pursuit of it!

If this much can be lost in translating from Hebrew to English, how much more might be lost in translating God’s sentiments into an earthly language. The prophets received impressions and convictions and had to stuff them down into our language whose vocabulary must appear infinitesimal compared to the language of heaven. How much gets lost even in that first translation.

I say all this to make a case for letting some troubling passages stand. In time we may find better ways to understand them. How many times do we run down dark paths by over-analyzing a partially-understood expression? 

Waiting for Willing

“Hallelujah! … Hallelujah! …” My soul filled and my heart thrilled to the strains of “The Messiah” as I stood in the Loma Linda University Church. Only one week ago we were watching the breaking news of the Sandy Hook massacre, and yesterday some were thinking of winter solstice, the end of the Mayan calendar, and the much-joked-about end of the world. At this moment I marveled at the glory of the good God we worship with the best of our art and at least a piece of our heart.

“Oh, Lord! Can’t you just end this degenerate world and gather us unto Yourself?!” I silently cried.

In my mind’s eye I could see us all caught up together with Him, and in a flash I got an answer as to why that doesn’t happen. The filth, darkness, and pain are infused in us. We would take them with us. God can’t scoop up a handful of humanity without having it drip with the sting and the ache that we long to escape. We don’t need to escape the planet; we need to escape us.

When I lived on an island off the Olympic Peninsula, a visiting preacher said, “This is so beautiful; just remove the sin and it would be paradise.” Since then I have lived in many places of which the same statement could be made. But in every place I’ve lived, and as the headlines will confirm, we have our own way of adding injury, insult, and injustice.

Could God be waiting for a people who have attained the perfection needed for entry into the New Earth? I doubt we understand the fullness of “perfection” as it is known to God. And I doubt we have either the strength or the situation to attain it. But I do believe we have to be willing to let Him mess around in our lives. It has to happen sometime. If we can go from pond slime to sublime without any effort on our part—if it all depends on God—then He has “some ‘splainin’ to do” for the 2,000-year delay.

But as I listened to the rapturous music and thought of my kids, my friends, my enemies, and my own sorry carcass, I was grateful that God is today accepting all who say “Take me, break me, remake me.” If He threw us right now into eternity, it would be like “throwing us under the bus.” We are not ready for a perfect world.

Isaiah said that our salvation lies in our ability to repent and rest (30:15). We regret how we are, and we rest in His work to change us. We don’t rest from obedience or cooperation, we rest from our resistance to His meddling. We become willing, and He begins to remake our appetites, our attitudes, and our attachments… just as far as we allow Him to go.

Today we (and those we worry about) still have the opportunity to let Him work heaven into our lives. “Hallelujah!” 

Appetite: This is WAR!

A strange thrill welled up in me as Ginger shared facts she’d read in The China Study. She wanted to make dietary changes. I had an involuntary response of excitement even though I knew her intentions would spell doom for some of my favorite foods. Still, like light spilling through a cracked doorway, her resolve planted hope in my heart for increased and improved years together.

In the following days a darker thrill tickled my brain. I now had a mandate to consume all the junk food in the house “just to tidy things up a bit.” I, of course, started with the chocolates.

Things were going along swimmingly until my sleepless night (not yet ended) brought me back to my senses. Whether my aching head, nauseous stomach, and chilled, tingly hands were a migraine, a bug picked up from a niece, or direct divine retribution for my dietary sins, I care not a whit! The great gift given me by all the pain was a reborn resolve to return to the first thrill: maximizing my health as a loving response to the One who gave me this physical machine I have so often abused.

I lay awake with head throbbing, repeating memory verses… not as penance, but as claims upon the grace of a God Whom I desire more than life. They seemed to shine in the inky air around me revealing Him as the Coach He has always wanted to be. Here are three of them.

“Good and upright is the LORD; therefore He instructs sinners in His ways. He guides the humble in what is right … Who, then, is the man that fears the LORD? He will instruct him in the way chosen for him. … The LORD confides in those who fear Him…” (Psalm 25:8-14). God is good and therefore always eager to be my Teacher. All I have to do is be willing to learn and then practice. He will even confide in me. What a thrilling thought!

However, I know how strong my appetites are. I know how many ways I find to justify doing exactly as I want. Once the appetite comes up—whether it is for food or a new surround sound speaker system—I can find ways to justify gratifying it. I have a thousand ways to wander onto a side trail just long enough for my desire to attain an innocent glow. So here’s what the Word says: “…each one is tempted when, by his own evil desire, he is dragged away and enticed. Then, after desire has conceived, it gives birth to sin; and sin, when it is full-grown, gives birth to death” (James 1:14-15). In the middle of the night with a splitting head, a sloshing stomach, and shaky, clammy hands; it was easy for me to imagine a doctor bending close so his words would penetrate my fog, “I’m sorry. There’s nothing modern medicine can do for your sorry carcass at this point in your deterioration.”

I knew that in the morning this would make an amusing story, but I am aware that that kind of amusement is just one more way I avoid making good on promises, or avoid making promises in the first place. I also knew, even there in the middle of a painful night, that I would survive and that no One was asking me for promises. In the midst of the pain I was actually joyful for the reminder of that earlier thrill—the thrill of better choices and improved futures. In truth a few more chocolates wouldn’t destroy me, but the continued suppression of a more godly will could.

After three hours the symptoms slowly began to abate, and I lay there happily talking with the One who loves me and puts up with so much of my garbage and duplicity. I promised Him (and me!) that in the light of day, when this night seemed light-years away and somewhat laughable I’d laugh if I wanted, but I would also make an immediate start to eliminate the enemy… and not “eliminate” in the digestive way I’d been planning!

Oh that hurt! Even in my bed the unfinished See’s chocolates called to me from the pantry downstairs. Their siren song was sweet and pleading. It begged me to be reasonable, not rash! I mourned for the untasted. I was angry that I’d not wolfed them down prior to this night of conviction. But when I finally realized the horror that my 56-year-wise brain was a slave to the worm of desire, then the whole scene changed.

The chocolaty, nutty morsels in my pantry were only the foot soldiers of the slaver I have sworn to resist. There are a billion more of his pawns out there on shelves in shops all over the U.S. If I give in to these invaders in my own home… no, “finishing them off” as militaristic as it sounded, would only be one more step in “finishing me off.”

I won the battle on my mattress and immediately felt liberated from the food and the sound system. I can be a son of the Most High, not amused with these trivial appetites. Unfortunately, I’ve been a pretty poor soldier. Many of the mental fortresses I have constructed have actually sheltered me from His gentle pleadings. Perhaps He did use the night of pain to weaken my defenses just enough for me to claw my way out into daylight.

“The weapons we fight with are not the weapons of the world. On the contrary, they have divine power to demolish strongholds. We demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ” (2 Corinthians 10:4-5). It’s not about food, it’s about allegiance.

Thoughts on the Sandy Hook Massacre

Ginger and I were visiting her brother in Arroyo Grande last Friday when the horrendous slaying of the innocents occurred in Connecticut. We went to bed early that night and spent two tearful hours watching news reports. It is nearly impossible to imagine the grief that must grip that idyllic town. So many times—and even in my dreams that night—I made comparisons to Rogers Adventist School and the dedicated staff and close-knit families that live there. I couldn’t help but worry for their safety, as well. We spent years on our safety plan, but I doubt any school is prepared to do any more effective job of stopping a shooter than Sandy Hook was. While the loss of life would have been higher without the heroics of the teachers, it was still way too high.

I know many have posted thoughts of sadness or encouragement on Facebook and other media. But I want to record one strong impression this tragedy has left indelibly, I hope, on my mind and heart.

People wiser or closer to God than I will have to answer “Where is God at a time like that?” Sometimes His ways, at least to me, are inscrutable. Perhaps they actually always are. Maybe when we think we have things figured out, it’s just a lucky guess. Or perhaps when it seems like God is in His heaven and all is good in our corner of the earth, we are simply blissfully ignorant of the cries of pain, loneliness, and despair that He hears constantly ascending. I don’t know.

But what stays with me is the thought that maybe today God can only be present on earth through His incarnation in His children… of which I am one. Satan, too, is present in the twisted wrecks he has made of the souls of the ones he has tormented.

The Babe of Bethlehem did not say He would send us a Holy Security Guard, but a Counselor. And maybe as we become therapeutic for those around us, we are incarnating the very Being who longs to calm our beating hearts and to bind our bleeding wounds.

What if the apocalypse is really about a time when the image of God has disappeared from His creation? A time when hope and holiness have been traded for cheap thrills, uncontrolled appetites, and desperate, selfish pursuits? What if God’s Spirit stays in this world only through the responsiveness of each of His attentive children?

If God can glimmer into this life only through the reflection borne on our faces, then I want my life to be fully turned towards Him. I want my face to be unveiled and as clear and bright as possible. “Lord, as evil comes from the hands of tormented humanity, so let holiness and hope find a field command post in my life.”

Going Blind - My Shortest Post

I have noticed that the pictures I post are attracting "image harvesters" from Canada, UK, Russia.. even foreign and exotic places like Alaska! Oh no! I'm hereby getting out of the "image" business. They might say they subscribed for the articles, but I wonder...

I know the loss of images will make this blog text-heavy; blind. But those who want to see, can still see.

The Psychology of Salvation, Part 9: Who Needs the Sanctuary?

Retrieved 11/28/12 from: http://graphicnovel.zachwhalen.net/sites/graphicnovel.zachwhalen.net/files/monalisa.jpg  

“Who needs the sanctuary? Don’t you believe in the New Covenant?” It was my new evangelical friend Clyde talking. “None of that stuff is binding on us today.” I had to agree, but I reasoned that God didn’t make a mistake when He designed a graphic guide to the process of salvation. If God designed it, what was He trying to teach us by its symbols? The fact that we are under the New Covenant doesn’t make me quit contemplating the story of Adam and Eve, or the travails of Job, or the decisions of the Judges, or the warnings of the prophets, or the poetry of David.

“Who needs the sanctuary?” It is a question that some Adventists also ask. Others don’t ask the question, they just don’t think about it at all. It seems dry and outdated. Some, wrestle with the sanctuary for theological reasons. Some try to find in it the answers to eschatological questions. As I child I was used to people referring to the sanctuary as a way to defend our belief in the investigative judgment, or to create a picture of Christ’s high priestly ministrations on our behalf. I always had the feeling of half cringing under the sheer weight of conviction among the speakers who could be quite argumentative. Studying or discussing the sanctuary did indeed seem like a dry, obscure pursuit; right up there with the precise meaning of the seven seals of Revelation or the exact order and proximity of end-time events.

So I have been one of those who wandered off when a sanctuary debate started to heat up, but those debates are very rare today. I would not speak against trying to understand the sanctuary, nor would I see the grappling as a waste of time, but I do think there is another way to appreciate the sanctuary.

I think we can compare our interest in the sanctuary to the Mona Lisa; it’s classical, everyone should be aware that it existed, it’s hung on a wall somewhere safely outside our daily experience, so who cares? People argue about the Mona Lisa, too. Was there some kind of fooling around going on? Was it a portrait of da Vinci’s gay lover? Was it a self-portrait where he styled himself as a woman? Was it his father, one of two men who may have commissioned the painting? Was it, perhaps, even Lisa del Giocondo as it is supposed to be? There are at least 12 plausible theories. But what percent of the world’s population is thinking about the Mona Lisa right now? What small handful are holding any opinion about her?

Let’s say the three people who are arguing for their viewpoints stop to take a breath and I look around their shoulders and spy her. I am not versed in the arguments, but I am taken with the smile people have called enigmatic. I notice that she smiles more when I look at her eyes than when I look at her mouth. I tap one of the aficionados and ask, “Where can I get a copy of that? I have an open space on a wall at home that is the right color and shape. She’d look fabulous there.”

He shrugs and suggests, “Check the gift shop. They can probably even print it on canvas for you.” That’s the end of his patience with my interruption, and he turns back to the debate. But I do buy the canvas print. I pay good money to have it framed, and I carefully place it on my wall. Each day I walk by, and she seems to watch me with mild interest. I study her face. I try to make sense of the background, but mostly I just get happier and happier with my purchase. I know little about da Vinci, but I feel that if he showed up tomorrow, we’d have much to talk about.

It’s that way with the sanctuary. You can objectify it, study its details, argue it, search it for clues as to the future, but if you don’t see the beauty in it, you have missed much. It is one of the clearest presentations of a God Who has done it all for us, Who sets our worldview straight, and Who personally coaches us in our new life. It reveals the great universal engine which turns everything. It’s beautiful and encouraging. You can love the sanctuary in a way that draws you to its Artist.

The Psychology of Salvation, Part 8: Our Hands Are Bigger Now

Found 11/28/12 at: http://fionaevemurray.wordpress.com/projects/project-3/

Woke up at 2:30 this morning to break a 29-year, no-vomiting record. (I’m assuming that I vomited when Sherry and I were so wretchedly sick in Nordland in the early '80s.. Not sure of the year, and I might not have even vomited then. I have a way of sitting in misery for the duration.)

Throughout the night I drifted back into consciousness three times in very similar ways. I awoke from dreams where only the thin-slice of the dream’s fading end was remembered. In each one I was looking at a model of the Hebrew sanctuary and said something like, “Lord, they seem to be doing all You have asked.”

His reply was along the lines of, “They are missing the heart of it. They could take it to a deeper place in their lives.”

In each of the three dreams I was viewing the tabernacle from a different angle. On my third awakening, I could only remember two of the perspectives. In the first, I was looking at a model similar to the one at the Israel Museum. In fact, I believe that dream featured Herod’s temple. My perspective was oblique and from the altitude of a small private airplane. I was gazing from the southeast, near the south end of the Mount of Olives.

The second perspective was like seeing the desert tabernacle all laid out on a slope with the furniture exposed. The scale and angle were just as if I were playing a pinball machine and all the furniture were the bumpers and flippers. However, I was not playing; I could see priests officiating appropriately at each station.

I couldn’t remember the third perspective. Then when I awoke a fourth time my memory was restored. In it, the temple and its furniture were all laid out in a flat diagram. I seemed to be seeing it on a page in a textbook.

As soon as I remembered the third perspective, they all made sense to me. 1) The museum model of the temple stood for the central place the worship of Shaddai held in the Hebrew culture, beliefs, and economy. It was a proper view of its pivotal position as God ordained it for the nation. 2) The pinball view of the tabernacle and its furniture signified the physical precision with which the tabernacle was built and the close attention to detail during the daily, weekly, monthly, and yearly rounds. 3) The textbook diagram was emblematic of a very rational study of the whole system. All perspectives were fascinating, yet God insisted, “There’s more,” and implied that when the “more” is missed we miss the best part.

I felt impressed that I should get back to devotional writing about God’s love as shown in the sanctuary, and that it contains a psychological model of His work for our salvation. Is that what was happening? I don’t know. It could have been my fascination with this study after having let lie dormant for awhile. After all, I had just talked to Brandy’s prayer group hours before the dreams began. So recounting the trip to Jerusalem may have dislodged some sleeping interests. It could have been stimulated by the fever I was fighting off and on, but I didn’t feel emotional or excited, just calm and convinced.

Either way, in the wee small hours I decided that I would return to sanctuary or other devotional writing in the coming days. Then I drifted back to sleep. I woke up a fifth time and this time the perspective seemed to mix the three models. I definitely saw all the pieces and the priests bustling about their service in the tabernacle; I was aware of the temple’s place in the nation’s daily and international life; and I had full appreciation for the logic and the details.

Again, as the brief image faded, I found myself answering a comment God must have just made. I said, “Lord, they are doing it all right.”

Again, He calmly and clearly disagreed, “When they were children, their hands were too small for the big basins, the plates, the censors, the tongs, and all the rest. They had to focus very carefully not to drop something. Now, even though their hands are bigger, they are stuck performing the same routines they have learned so well. Their hands are big enough now to carry this practice into a new chamber in their lives and to make it work seamlessly there, but they aren’t.”

I found this thought to be quite exciting for three reasons: 1) God was using “hands” to stand for both the physical work (a symbol we traditionally keep) but He was also using it for our mind and soul’s ability to “grasp” what is significant. As humans we have invented many titles for ourselves and one is homo fabere which means we are the only species to fabricate things. I’m sure that title has been challenged now by Darwin’s finches and the primates that create termite-fishing sticks. However, we have long believed that our manual dexterity has enriched our exploration of the world around us, fueling more mental activity and inquisitiveness. Our hand’s ability to create what the mind invents gives wings to the mind. Why wouldn’t the hand’s learning of a routine give the mind further thoughts to explore? Why do we sometimes allow the hands to go through the motions day after day and block our minds from abstracting and internalizing what is going on? 2) This statement about the hands seemed to be a particularly Jewish part of the dream. The Jews believe that the head, hand, and soul must stay connected. That’s why the praying Jew’s body is active pacing or rocking while his or her mind and soul interact with God. 3) And finally, the statement points out that our care and attention to detail as we learn things correctly is only a step towards application. When we get stuck on the correct performance of a routine, we display the behaviors of obsessive compulsion. Statement: “We’ve gotta do this!” Question: “Why? What is it adding to our life or understanding?” Answer: “We’ve gotta keep doing this right.”

What I hear as I write this is the added thought, “The temple was glorious before, but it will shine even more brightly. When it is ingested, it will disappear for a time, but then it will burst forth with the light of a life creatively and faithfully lived.”

I wouldn’t be so bold as to say God has told me to write this, but I do know that one way or the other I feel compelled to write it… bit by bit, piece by piece. I need to write faithfully and devotionally for my own soul’s sake.

All of this comes at a somewhat spiritually dry time for me. It’s wonderful being close to family. My wife is lovely. We aren’t in the poorhouse yet despite the diminished income and the cost of maintaining two homes. I am making progress on my studies. But I also feel that my worship times have become more like study than communion. Fewer things are in my control, so I’m grumpier than Ginger has previously experienced. I am suspicious of the builder, the home owners association, the loan company, and maybe even “the stranger that is within my gates.” I state my opinions more emphatically and am readier to battle with alternate viewpoints, than to listen to them and to think compassionately.

So how does one write from a state of communion rather than combativeness? What does devotional obedience mean? I may produce a string of loosely-jointed, rambling pieces, fit for no one else, but me. Still, I will write when, how, and whatever it seems I should write. I made this promise three weeks ago, then I got lost in Scripture study that left little “juice” for my soul. So my supplementary commitment is to let God meander through my house and point out whatever He may. If He wants me to “sit a spell” I will do that, and I won’t move on until He does.

The Psychology of Salvation, Part 7: Accidental Temptation

Follow this link for a fascinating article on brain communication WITHOUT synapse! http://news.sciencemag.org/sciencenow/2009/10/29-02.html 

So how do we put this psychology of salvation to work for us? Being careful to remember that we can’t save ourselves, the Sanctuary does provide many encouraging images of what happens in our head, heart, and body along this twisted and dusty road we travel. Here’s one such encouragement.

I’ve been asking God to show me His beauty in familiar passages of Scripture which are now seen afresh through the Sanctuary model. During my run yesterday I was praying and working on Scripture memorization, and in less than two strides I found myself in the middle of a lascivious thought. I cried out in agony, “Oh Lord! I am no longer amused nor entertained by such thoughts. Why do they keep coming back? When will You liberate me? I’m more than eager to have them permanently gone.”

What followed was not a great answer to the whole sin problem, but it did provide some insight into these drive-by temptations. First, I remembered what Roland Hegsted said in an Auburn campmeeting address back in the 1980s. It offered some very rational encouragement back then. He said he had been gifted with a creative mind. It is constantly at work, and he can’t predict what it will spin out next. Even in the middle of church or the middle of a prayer, his mind will grab a word or a gesture and run with it, creating all kinds of potential spin-offs. While some of them are helpful, even publishable, some of them are inappropriate — immoral and repugnant.

He used to be horribly discouraged by this, but then learned to chalk it up to his fertile imagination and creative energy. He came to see that he had no control over what would pop to mind in the next instant, but he did have total control over what he would dwell on. This was a comforting thought to me back then since my mind works the same. But yesterday it took on a new depth as I pondered a familiar Bible passage in the light of the Sanctuary.

Remember that the Holy Place, our inner life where the Holy Spirit illuminates and educates us, is internally decorated with beautifully embroidered curtains. It is a safe place conducive to a focus on themes eternal. But we can be enticed to part the curtain and look back at life outside the veil. Despite the beauty of the spiritual life, our former life still beckons us, and we find ourselves responding before we realize it.

So what to do? Can we block the video feed from crazy creative brains? To do that would either be impossible or would require some kind of lobotomy or eye extraction from which we would not recover, and by which even our spiritual life would be crippled. Yes, Jesus said, “If your eye offends you, pluck it out.” But He also said that we were to live in this world (presumably with all our faculties in full health) but not join in the pursuits of the world.

Well, I found this encouraging bridge between Hegsted and the Sanctuary in James 1:12-15. Notice the theme of our active engagement in the process of salvation (a Holy Place effort), but pay special attention to the matter of temptation.

Blessed is the man who perseveres under trial, because when he has stood the test, he will receive the crown of life that God has promised to those who love him. When tempted, no one should say, “God is tempting me.” For God cannot be tempted by evil, nor does he tempt anyone; but each one is tempted when, by his own evil desire, he is dragged away and enticed. Then, after desire has conceived, it gives birth to sin; and sin, when it is full-grown, gives birth to death.

It suddenly clicked for me: our minds are still composed of all the elements and habits of this world. Yes, we are longing to “be transformed by the renewing of [our] mind” (Romans 12:2), but we still have the basic equipment, that “old man” Paul talks about. Our own minds are one more part of the scenery in our lives and there is some pretty deeply etched graffiti in our brains. But more than that, our minds actively invent and create, churning out thoughts constantly. Just like a good brainstorming session, our brains produce copiously and leave it to us to sort the gold from the garbage.

Some of the garbage is not enticing to us, and some is nearly irresistible. Here’s an example. Sometimes I think of song lyrics and this morning I was humming “in celestial like strains it unceasingly falls o’er my soul like an infinite gong.” (I know, the word is “calm.” I just looked it up! But all these years I thought it was “gong!” I used to think, “That’s not too restful-sounding, but a gong does reverberate for a long time. Oh well.”)

Anyway, due to my (until this very moment) misunderstanding, that song often came off as “o’er my soul like an infinite bong.” My brain just kept making the joke all by itself. I would laugh an annoyed little “Harrumph”, and go back to correct the word in my mind. That’s because the drug culture doesn’t live in my bones. For some of my friends, the word “bong” would have sent them into shivers of desire for the chemical they have sworn off. For them, this little wordplay would have been horribly upsetting, because of its visceral enticement. It would have caused them to question their level of commitment, or to pray “Oh Lord! How long till I am free of these old desires?”

See the difference? For me, that little wordplay triggers nothing but annoyance. So it’s not the wordplay that is the problem. The problem arises because of what is lying half-dormant in the soul. 

That old appetite gets aroused from its rest deep in the soul of the former cannabis user. It responds to stimuli no matter where they come from. I have other appetites and memories; they get triggered by other spontaneously generated images. Those images would be a mere annoyance to someone else, but they awaken the beasts I have to subdue. So I cry out, “Oh Lord! How long?”

This is what James is talking about. We are in the Holy Place (our inner life) where the Spirit is ministering to us, and suddenly we are dragged away and enticed! (How rude!) It may have been an irreverent wordplay that distracted our attention, but when it finds an echo of desire welling up from our fallen past then the enticement begins.

Fortunately, at the very point where desire kicks in, so does our awareness of it. So we get to play gatekeeper to our continual thinking. Like a roving dog our creative mind sniffs out anything, but like a landowner with a shred of self-respect, we get to sort out what stays on our property.

In short, our creative mind generates many thoughts without pre-judging their value. When it strikes on an image that arouses an evil desire, then we feel the enticement and have to battle the beast in us. 

There is no harm in the thousands of unusual thoughts, but there is great harm in treating them all with continued interest. Some are to be welcomed, mulled over, maybe even published. Many more are to be recognized for the unhealthy allurement they offer and then kicked off the property.

Ironically, unlike your sneaky roving dog, the best way to keep the beast from frolicking on your lawn is to pay it no mind. “Turn your eyes upon Jesus…”

The Psychology of Salvation, Part 6: The Slightest Impulse

Found at: http://www.mykindastyle.com/blog/?p=145 

“To act on the slightest impulse to do good;” that was a promise I made… wait! I’m not so good at keeping promises. Let’s try this: “That was an intention that came into my heart as I considered the work of the Spirit in my life some months ago.” If we are to “keep in step with the Spirit” (Galatians 5:23), then our walk has to include hurrying up when He does, stopping when He does, turning when He does, and taking whatever fancy steps He seems to want.

No, I don’t think the Holy Spirit is all fickle and fluttery like a moth near a streetlight. I believe He is purposeful and powerful and direct. Yet, I once saw a huge-pawed puppy going through all kinds of gyrations as she tried to stay close to her master. The owner was trying to make his way back to his truck and the pup, unaware of the objective, kept assuming the wrong next move. It was all the master could do to stay on his feet as the gangly puppy crisscrossed this way and that having to correct nearly every step.

I’m like that puppy, yet the promise is that we can become so acquainted with God that to do His will we will only need to act on our impulses. That’s what Samuel told the new king, Saul. He said, “The Spirit of the Lord will come upon you in power and you will prophesy with [the prophets] and you will be changed into a different person. Once these signs are fulfilled, do whatever your hand finds to do for God is with you” (1 Samuel 10:6-7). (Saul’s later life showed that when we are no longer with God, then whatever our hand finds to do will likely be the wrong thing.)

Amazing, though, that God can be with us in a way that makes our hands do right! That’s what I want; not some promise of infallibility, but the assurance that everything I do will benefit God in some way.

But my impulses are not currently trustworthy. I hold them up to His character and they look worse than shabby. I used to think I would grow into His likeness, that somehow I could be educated into a righteous life. Now, I can’t really see that far. What I do believe is that anytime my heart is decidedly with His, immediately better impulses are provided.

Aha! That’s what I’m looking for, not some well-crafted, independent righteousness, but a moment-by-moment guidance that keeps me on the right path. I doubt it would even be good for me to take off my training wheels. They are the voice of God, and I don’t want to ride ahead of that. He promised “Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you saying, ‘This is the way; walk in it” (Isaiah 30:21). And that is already happening.

So here was my thought: I can trust the slightest impulse to do good. Too often I have felt that I should do something I knew to be good (e.g. “let this cookie be my last” or “give that guy a hand” or “go write out that thought”) and have found it too easy to ignore the urge claiming it’s not important or I can do it later. Now is late enough. So when God prompts me to be patient, I try to surrender what I was planning to do. When He tells me to make a better food choice, I try to surrender what I was planning to do. When He tells me to go write it out, I try to surrender what I was planning to do.

Notice a common theme? He may have a hundred things to ask of me, but I have really only one response; surrender what I was planning to do. That’s what John Lennon obliquely addressed when he said, “Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.” I had a moment like that on Sunday, October 14, and it began this change from writing for a weekly human audience (see “An Explanatory Note” below) to writing as I am led. I had a whole day of study planned and I wanted to get an early start. Instead, I surrendered that plan and spent six hours writing things He needed me to get onto paper. I wrote my third of the series on the Sanctuary, and for a full week after that, He brought me affirming excerpts from the devotional writings of Ellen White. I’m reading Harri Kuhalmpi’s dissertation, Holistic Spirituality in the Thinking of Ellen White, and the sections on her view of repentance and sanctification were riddled with thoughts similar to what I had just discovered in the Sanctuary. Later, his writing progressed to other areas of her thinking and the parallels were not so frequent. God had awakened me and focused me through the discipline of my own writing just in time to take advantage of a windfall.

And, of course, there’s always a punch line: after surrendering six hours that day, and multiple hours in following days, I still spent more hours on study than I had in the weeks prior. Perhaps He expects a tithe of our time and talent as well as a tithe of our treasure. Perhaps He only asks us to give what He already knows we can live without, and when we do, heaven provides for our legitimate needs.

An explanatory note: I awoke at 1:00 this Sabbath morning and laid awake for 37 minutes before finally smiling and arising to write. In June I had started this blog to give me a devotional writing outlet. I was used to finding a spiritual thought to share each Monday morning with my teachers and staff. I enjoyed that and regretted having to give it up during this year of sabbatical for study purposes. Hence, I thought that writing devotionally once a week would be a good practice.

I can be very programmatic, so a weekly routine helps. I also find social feedback to be motivating, so I invited a handful of friends to check in and give me feedback once a week. I think I outlasted them. They are busy and smart people and have their own demanding lives, so it’s not a problem for me. In fact, I think God has been opening my eyes to a need to change my modus operandi, somewhat. I tend to live by calendars, but I’m not sure God lives by mine. I tend to perform for a human audience, but He is the audience I most crave. It is time for me to write as the Spirit moves me.

I won’t turn my back on “The Walk” but I want to make it somewhat fancier… I want to dance for Him.

The Psychology of Salvation, Part 5: The Spirit and Me

Found at: http://hischarisisenough.wordpress.com/2012/05/31/does-the-holy-spirit-actually-convict-you-of-sins-4/

Paul wrote several passages that hint at the work of the Holy Place. In Galatians 5:22-25 he lists the fruits of the Spirit “against such there is no law. Anyone who belongs to Christ Jesus has crucified the sinful nature with its passions and desires. Since we live by the Spirit let us keep in step with the Spirit.”

There are two important points here. First, just as Christ’s sacrifice was symbolized in the courtyard at the altar, so we are reminded to sacrifice our sinful nature. We are to walk away from the passions and desires that made so much sense before we were converted. Elsewhere Paul says, “Therefore, I urge you brothers, in view of God’s mercy to offer your bodies as living sacrifices, holy and acceptable to God. Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is, His good, pleasing, and perfect will.” Romans 12:1-2.

In this passage we see the courtyard where we sacrifice the things our unconverted selves crave. Then we enter the Holy Place to have our minds taken apart, cleaned, and carefully reassembled in the light of the Spirit. Then we are able to discern the will of God! What a gift. It’s all about growing along a trellis that He has built.

But the second point is that the fruit of the Spirit is not fruit for just us to bear; it is also a picture of the Spirit Himself. So Paul simply tells us to “keep in step with the Spirit.” One could think that God does His own thing as Master of the Universe, and we do something quite different as tiny creatures in the universe. But Paul hints that displaying “love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control” is what the Spirit already does, and if we are to keep in step with Him, we will too. In the Holy Place we see by the light of the Spirit. We take on His worldview, and we learn to act as He does... which is, of course, the way all of God acts.

In one last precious promise, Paul writes, “For you did not receive a spirit that makes you a slave again to fear, but you received the Spirit of sonship. And by Him we cry, “Abba, Father!” The Spirit Himself testifies with our spirit that we are God’s children.” Romans 8:15-16. The capital “S” in “Spirit of sonship” is no mistake. It is through God’s Spirit that we find intimacy with God. Enough so that we can call out “Daddy!” to Him and He is not offended. But have you ever noticed that the Spirit testifies that we are God’s children? More interestingly, He joins our spirit in making that statement.

I don’t think we need to dissect this too much; it apparently means that what our spirit does in response to God’s Spirit shows that we are on the same team. We’re trying on His letterman’s jacket and dreaming of the day that we will be stronger and bigger and better. Together His Spirit and our spirit make the statement. He illumines and empowers; we observe and respond.

It’s all about the work of the Holy Place. It’s all about living in the glow of God, drawing a curtain against the things that used to distract and delight, and taking the time to grow aright.

PS If you go to the website where today's art was found, you will see that they ask the question, "Does the Holy Spirit convict us of sin?" and they answer with a resounding "No!" based on the passages that talk about the love and comfort of the Holy Spirit. I answer a resounding "Yes!" based on the very same passages. What a wonderful thing to have a trusted Comforter and Counselor opening your eyes to the things that could destroy you. The same God who sustains the Law that orders the universe, who loves us so deeply that He sent His Son to atone for our Lawbreaking, that same God sends His Spirit to open our eyes, to draw our hearts to God, to show us the reality of who we are and where we are, and to companion us as we attempt to "walk the walk." Only agape love can be blindingly frank (as Jesus was to Saul on the road to Damascus) and healingly present in our times of struggle. As Tenth Avenue North sings, "It's not love any other way."

The Psychology of Salvation, Part 4: The Magnificent Little Factory

Found at "The Animation Factory" http://www.brianlemay.com/ 

This blog, “The Walk,” is devoted to the active life of the Christian. Our walk is what makes a difference in the world around us. So why deal with the musty old concept of the Hebrew sanctuary? The answer: Because the sanctuary is a beautiful psychological model of the regenerated life and how we get there! It is a magnificent little factory that remanufactures us, taking the salvageable stuff of who we are and putting it to exciting new uses.

Here’s the logic: 1) Our physical actions (our “walk”) are the only way we make a difference in this world. The most sublime thinking, the most earnest hoping does not make one gnat’s wing of impact in the flesh-and-blood or brick-and-mortar world. 2) Our walk is often a matter of habit, but it can be changed when it is propelled by what we think. 3) Impulse is that thin bridge from thought into action. 4) When we think new thoughts, they begin to color our subconscious and create new impulses. 5) We can trust, and act on, our impulses to the degree that we trust the thinking that created them. 6) In the sanctuary we meet salvation’s Designer and we begin to see that we are inside the model of His plan for winning us back and recreating us. 7) As we spend thoughtful time there, our thinking is realigned according to His healthier psychology, and our behavioral life picks up its color.

In case I lost you, here’s a short recap: When our thoughts are compatible with God’s plan of salvation, He can use them to propel us into the actions that will improve our little corner of the world.

Adventists have studied the sanctuary service to discover clues about the future of the world. But when I explore it to discover clues about the future of me, I get really excited and filled with inexpressible confidence and joy. God showed us the few necessary steps across the huge gulf between us and Him. Though the journey takes a lifetime the basic steps are few: 1) We come. 2) We collapse under the crushing weight of reality: our present condition and the price God paid to save us. 3) We are cleansed and soothed by the assurance of His irrational, unshakable love for us. 4) We enter the Holy Place where the light of His Spirit transforms our minds, 5) informs our behaviors, and 6) conforms our wills to His. 7) We eagerly dwell on the energizing paradox of His holiness vs. His compassion, His law vs. His love, His seemingly unattainable perfection that orders the universe vs. His compassionate assistance while we are still chaotic and riddled with rebellion.

In the glow of His grace which we have not earned, and with faces pointed towards the perfect restoration which He promises, we worship Him. And as we long for His work to be completed in us we willingly lift the situations that surround us. Because of His love and generosity towards us we find the inspiration and the perspiration to do anything and everything that lines up with His beauty and majesty.

When the seven steps of the sanctuary become our reality, then we can commit to following the smallest impulse to do good. We can live by these impulses because we have studied their Source and can trust in their destination. Viola! A healthy human psychology that moves seamlessly from thought to action. Without divine intervention, our study of ourselves only makes us more like we currently are. When we consider who we are within the structure of the sanctuary, we find that divine presence which begins to lift us up to what we were intended to be. The power of the gospel is that Christ’s external self-sacrificing work, strikes a responsive chord in us that the Spirit fans into a living flame. That flame illuminates not only our own life, it also sheds light on the paths of our neighbors.

Viewed in this way, the ancient Hebrew sanctuary appears as a magnificent little factory sitting squarely in the desert of our lives. It welcomes us in, crushes us under the wheels of reality, collects and cleanses the salvageable parts, and in the light of all that is Good it begins to reassemble us into something that conforms to the original design. Our hope is that one day the work will be completed so that we will be the perfection He envisioned. But the miraculous part is this! The instant we enter the factory, we immediately begin to function more like the person He blueprinted.

Hallelujahs to God for that!

The Psychology of Salvation, Part 3: The Seven Steps of Restoration

Found at: http://www.derekleman.com/musings/ 

So finally I get to write about the sanctuary as a model of the psychology of salvation. Last week’s post gave an allegory of the emotional journey towards God. It was long and unfortunately, this one is even longer. I doubt any will have the time or fortitude to read it. So for the impatient, I will quickly offer this “spoiler:” a synopsis of the seven steps progressing from our feeble and empty attempts to live this life of alienation, through the sanctuary to reunion with our Creator and the fullness He intended for us.

The first three steps are taken in the natural light of day. Step One: We simply come into the courtyard with a hope that something can be done about us. Step Two: We are shocked into reality as we stand before the altar of sacrifice realizing our sin has caused the death of Innocence. Step Three: We are cleansed at the laver where the crushing weight of guilt is washed away by love we have found in the sacrifice. Love trumps shame.

The next three steps are taken under the illumination of the Spirit. Step Four: We enter a new dimension of the soul as our whole paradigm shifts in the light of the Spirit’s candlesticks. Step Five: We spend a lifetime deconstructing our old attitudes and actions and reassembling them according to the new logic that follows from this new vision of reality. It is a steady process of digesting truth and sharing in the community of the saints at the table of shewbread. Step Six: We intercede for all people with confidence at the altar of incense. In this Holy Place our eyes have been opened, our minds and hearts enlivened, and our desires pointed towards the One who wants ultimate good for us all.

The final step is yet to be and will be taken in the direct light of God’s presence. Step Seven: We become one with the One who has held our attention and been our inspiration and desire. The ark of His covenant with people contains the engine of salvation, the perfection of His unalterable Law and the paradox of His compassion. On the day of atonement have been restored without compromising the harmony of heaven, nor the safety of the unfallen.

So here’s the longer tour…

In our clean and colorful Sabbath best, we can sing and celebrate the Lord’s great love. We may thrill to the psalm, “Enter his gates with thanksgiving and his courts with praise.” But when we mentally step out of our tidy church for a moment and take another look at Psalm 100:4 it is a bit baffling. How can we enter a place of killing with thanksgiving and praise? The temple courtyard was a butcher yard and the stench of searing flesh must have stung the nostrils, hardly the place for a birthday party or a wedding. Yet there is a way that it could be entered with thanksgiving and even praise. In fact, without the horrid stench and all that follows, our praise of God remains powerless to see us through even one day.

Step One: Coming. Viewed from the lofty goals we sometimes hold, our life is pretty shabby. Viewed from the ideal, it is a wreck. When we realize that God created us for the ideal and that we were formed in beauty and power, then our current condition is miserable. In last week’s allegory, the man enters the E.R. in just such a state, pitiful misery, helplessness, and hopelessness. Once there, he can relax into the care of the physicians, hence he is able to surrender his bravado and weep in unbridled remorse and fear and hope. His pain is real, but his confidence in the doctors and all their equipment allows him to give up his self-care into bigger hands. There is a thrill of hope as one enters an E.R. This is where the action is. It’s where heroic efforts are made. It’s always open; we just have to come. 

So the first step towards wholeness is simply “coming.” We come in sorrow and expectancy. We come daring to believe that there may be a cure for us. We come realizing there is really nothing we can do to help out. It’s up to the Bigger Hands. The thanksgiving for such a place, the praise for such a God is more profound, intense, even desperate than the happy way we often sing it in church. It is the thanksgiving of stinging tears of relief; the praise of an “Oh! I hope so!” heart.

Step Two: Giving up. Immediately in the courtyard of the sanctuary we are confronted by a huge altar. It is horrible. Innocent lives are being taken, because of our failings. It is an intensely rock-bottom experience to understand that our sins, acknowledged or hidden, are continuing to cost the innocent ones. They trip up our own feet, but they also put stumbling stones in the paths of others. Even God’s beautiful intent in creating us is mocked because of our silly and self-promoting self-will and the wreckage it creates. At the altar we see how shallow our pride and defiance are; how counter-productive our resistance to the voice of correction. How tenacious and fear-filled our self-protective strategies are! In the flickering light of searing flesh we see that the only Perfect One laid down His life to cover our huge debt to the society of heaven, and even to the ones who have depended on us here on earth. He willingly gave up all that was good in order to cover the waste we have made of our life. In the magnificence of His perfection, our own efforts to do good look measly and self-centered. The altar is a tipping point. It calls for a sharp decision. We can feel forced by the whole contraption and turn away denying that our “little mistakes” are such a huge a problem for a perfect heaven. We can be repulsed by the whole heavy seriousness of it all and go back to our fractured life for a few more years, or we can be totally broken and begin to heal.

When we accept Christ’s incomprehensible trade of His perfection for our sin, then an entirely new path opens to us. The natural laws of human psychology are cracked. Like a tender plant splitting concrete, God’s love and our hope in it, break our heart. Our pride and defensiveness are shattered. The stony heart that would have kept us locked in self-perpetuating limitations and failures is now broken. It has been blown open and in those painful gaps there is room for the seeds of a limitless life that transcends the natural cycle of life and death on this planet. This most horrible altar, this most wrenching of surrenders are the doorway to profound hope and belonging. This is the second step towards wholeness, giving up on the thought that we can bandage ourself. It is the step of trusting our care to the Doctor despite His incomprehensible ways. Step two is surrendering our little fortress of self-protective sticks and stones and daring to believe that the Universal Superpower has our back. The amazing heart that was laid on that altar is our guarantee that the unsearchable One has an unfathomable desire for us.

The blood of the altar is not left at the altar. Like a key it unlocks each of the next steps; it is just that monumental. Without our running smack into the reality of the hot stones and flaming death of the altar we cannot grasp any of the next steps. Only after the eyes of the Jewish zealot, Saul, were blinded by the divine presence of Christ could he emerge as Paul to see a whole new Christian world. Only in the conscious shadow of the astounding sacrifice do we have the audacity to take any of the next steps. Without it we do not have the clarity to see a road ahead. So, turning from the altar, but always with its memory, we walk to the laver, that bowl of cleansing water.

Step Three: Dropping the doo doo. The mirror-surfaces of the laver show you that we have some “washing off” to do. The altar has removed the stench of death from our future, but the laver provides the laundering of our soul. The grime of guilt and the shabbiness of shame have to be washed away. The Love that drove the burning sacrifice now stoops to gently rinse away the tears of self-pity and self-loathing. Our gratitude and love for Jesus drive home the point that it is us that He loves that deeply. How can we, then, continue to criticize and abuse the object of His love? The altar shone an oppressive spotlight on our failing, self-clutching condition and laid it next to His unfathomable and self-offering love. Now the laver refreshes our soul with a new sense of worth. Our flaws are still there, we’ve created habits and consequences that will continue to vex us, but at the laver our despair, our guilt, and our shame are washed away. These anxieties would keep us from fully engaging in what lies ahead.

But can’t we just come into the courtyard and close our eyes and scurry around the altar to bathe in the refreshing and soothing laver? Some religions and secular psychology try to accomplish this. However, without understanding the burning struggle of self-sacrificial love we cannot stay fully present to all the work needed in our life and simultaneously hold the joyous hope of His support at every step. Some religions tell us to release any sorrow for sin and any longing for a better situation. The power is in the “now.” Just be, and release all regret and all desire. We will reach something better by not desiring what is better.

Secular psychology, on the other hand, examines how we got to this place and what it means to be human without a hope of heaven. We are not responsible for this mess. Our genetics, and the concepts we’ve constructed out of very human, very natural, situations all make sense. We have done the best that anyone in our precise situation would have done. Now, what baby steps would we like to take towards a more desirable place?

So we can pick our poison. We can deny the glories we once hoped were possible, or we can deny the seriousness of our disappointing performance. Both offer some relief, but neither allows for the clarity and honesty of how horrible we can be and how glorious we could be. The laver does both, because of the altar. The laver can’t work without the sacrifice. The altar shows the huge gulf between the condition of our heart and life and those of the Savior. The pain of that gulf can only be handled under the banner of His love. So the laver takes that Savior’s love and wraps us in it.[1] Our guilt and shame pale in the sight of His affection. It’s like we have emerged from the sauna and are now cleansed and moving towel-clad towards the restorative massage.

Before moving to Step Four, let’s take a break to back up and see the sanctuary in a broader scope. When we entered the courtyard we were under the light of the sun. All is natural, even physical and external, there. We came to with a hope we could be fixed. We saw the reality of our situation and of God’s desire for us. And God conquered our voice of self-accusation. Of course, God was always inviting us to come. God made our situation painfully clear and convinced us of His grace towards us through the crucifixion. And God led us through the baptism where we declared our love for Him and accepted His estimate of our worth.

Clutching the twin realities of our continued failure and His continued grace, and being warmed to the covering of His mercy, we are ready to join Him in some honest labor. It is time to enter the inner work that He wants to accomplish in us. It is time to leave the natural light of the sun and move into the candle light of the Spirit. It is time to enter the Holy Place.

Step Four: Seeing through new eyes. When we step into the Holy Place our eyes must adjust to the softer light. The glare of natural world is left outside as we enter the dancing, living light of a whole new worldview. The candlesticks to our left invite us to see differently. We behold the beauty of the embroideries that are hidden to the outside world. This is our soul the way He designed it. We are capable of so much more than we thought, because we were made in His image. Before the humbling work of the altar, we would not have appreciated the delicate beauty of this sacred place. Before the cleansing work of the laver we would not have counted ourself worthy to dream this could be ours. Now in this gentle candlelight the entire world is redecorated. We are beginning to see through His eyes.

Step Five: Digesting the truth. In this new light, we have some rethinking to do. We have accepted that life can contain indescribable beauty, and we believe that He is offering this to us as our birthright. However, we have years of thought habits to undo. There are jokes that are repugnant in this place, but they still amuse us. There are schemes we feel are essential to getting ahead in life, but they are strangely out of place here.

In the terms of neuroscience, we have many neurological pathways to prune and many neuro-networks to establish. That will require “attention density;” repeated focus and practice over time. In the language of religion, we need to commence the Christian walk, keeping the abiding Word of Christ ever in our heart. In the concepts of philosophy, we have adopted a new premise. Now we have to develop the resulting logic.

This all happens at the table of showbread. With new vision illuminating our minds we read the Bible as a new book. Seeing through the eyes of Jesus, we come to understand God differently. We read the same old stories but feel a different Heart in them. Passage after passage tumbles into place as we meditate on them and ask for the Spirit’s illumination. Our rational teeth are breaking the nutrients of each saying and lining them up with the relational Truth we have already experienced. This is the work of a lifetime; dismantling misconceptions, breaking down habits, building new understandings and habits, and deepening the conviction that nothing will separate us from the love of God. It’s wild and wonderful work and as the beauty of a whole new logic arises, the pain of our own shortcomings at times threatens to make us leave the project. But the memory of the sacrifice, the comfort of the cleansing, and illumination of the Spirit all encourage us to continue. What scientist has not felt humbled even intimidated by his or her explorations?

As this work of building a new logic, a new lifestyle, upon His worldview continues, we automatically sense community with other pilgrims who are also converging on this sacred place. The 12 loafs on this table are not just the truth we are learning to intellectually digest, they are the truth we are learning to physically live. Community happens as we share that quest with the people of other personality “tribes” in a spirit of forgiveness and becoming.

Step Six: Intercession. There is no better word for it. We work for the betterment of others, but not in the spirit of strident advocacy. There is a Father in heaven that we trust. We know He wants to bless, so we ask; we don’t need to demand. At the table of bread we come into truth and community. At the altar of incense we ask boldly for the gifts our studies have led us to expect. These are not the gifts of short-term fixes or cheap thrills. We ask for things that will work for the salvation of others and ourselves, even when we don’t understand precisely what is needed. We are finally connecting with God in the way that aligns us with His purposes. It’s the only sustainable way to pray. Essentially we are asking Him to join us at the table He has already prepared for us. And in so doing we stand facing the seventh and final step.

Step Seven: The beauty of holiness, the wonder of atonement. A curtain still separates us from the Most Holy place which is illuminated by the very presence of God. Metaphorically it is the depths of our spirit, a place where God silently companions us in a way that the world cannot touch. It is sacred place unreachable by any other hands. It contains the great engine of salvation. We are nearing “ground zero” in the righteousness of God. Only one piece of furniture occupies this hallowed space. It is the ark of the covenant between God and people. Even here God is not visible except in the light that emanates from the seat of His mercy above the ark. The ark affirms the power of the vision of what should be. In the presence of perfection, roughly written for people as the Ten Commandments, our efforts at righteousness would be totally blown away. But the presence of mercy hovering above the Law reassures us that, yes, even this perfection is our destiny. The power of the gospel story is that we have been saved without cheapening heaven. The ideal remains. We have not reached it, but the journey is glorious and stimulating. We travel safely enshrouded in the folds of His majestic robe of favor. He will continue to show us honestly where we are, and to encourage us with visions of where we are headed. He will show us the next step, and He will continue to accompany us as we near that Day of Atonement where faith will finally be sight.

That’s it. The psychology of salvation: 1) We come from our days of scurrying around outside the courtyard in our own self-protective hedgehog ways into a place of hope. 2) We honestly face our deplorable condition and discover His matchless love. 3) His love frees us from the paralysis of fear and regret. 4) We adopt a whole new set of eyes, His way of seeing life. 5) We careful digest truth and develop a sense of solidarity with His other children. 6) We begin to pray in the mind of Christ. 7) We steadily progress towards the time of atonement. We grow in the beauty of holiness as we ponder the creative tension between the perfection of His Law and the ascendancy of His love.

“Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.” (1 Corinthians 13:12)

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[1] Remember the hymn “There Is a Fountain.”  “And sinners plunged beneath that flood lose all their guilty stain.” This was bewildering and repulsive to me as a child. Now at the laver it is glorious.

The Psychology of Salvation, Part 2: The Strangest Hospital

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Last week I promised to show why I believe that the ancient Hebrew sanctuary presents a healthy psychology of personal growth and salvation. Last week I wrote that Jesus’ religion is different from all the others because He allows us to feel the bitter gap between what we could have been and what we have instead become. The pain and hopelessness of that gap would be overwhelming, but He Himself spans it with His own perfect life and His willingness to cover our ragged souls with His spotless one. But the sanctuary goes on to show that we are not left dazzling on the outside and dismal on the inside. I have had a visceral reaction to the splendid and bizarre details of the sanctuary. I can share it best through a story. So let’s pretend…

It was a glorious Autumn day as I climbed the sheer rock wall. I had been told not to try this route because the rock was “rotten,” but I had tested the rock and found it to be good, so I moved ahead driving in one piton after another as I scaled the 200-foot cliff.

I was only about 75 feet up when I reached for a marginal handhold. My toes were gripping the scant irregularities they had found, and I really needed something better than the finger-hold that was available. Still, I was self-belayed, and I calculated that a fall, though unnerving, would be survivable. I was wrong.

As I lost my grip, I braced myself for the jerk of hitting the end of the rope. Instead, there was a terrifyingly impotent tug followed by continued free fall. This happened several more times as piton after piton exploded out of the aging rock. I landed hard and heard a snap. “I hope I didn’t break my arm… or leg!” It was more of an impulse than a thought.

The pain was so complete that I couldn’t tell where it was centered. I couldn’t begin to guess the location of the injuries. It felt like my heart and guts, even my jaw and throat had turned to sharp dry rock. And the pain!

My mind raced to understand what had happened. Through a veil of red, blinding pain I tried to make sense of “now.” I have never known such depths of remorse and the bitter wish to roll the clock back just 30 minutes. I wanted to be comfortable again, among friends, laughing as though this sort of thing never happens.

I don’t know how long I lay there. I do remember fazing in and out and finally some people talking and the sensation of being lifted, yet not sitting up or moving in anyway. I heard a siren and felt soul-shattering jolts until the ambulance arrived at the hospital.

As they wheeled me into the E. R. the dam broke. The tears I had not thought to cry splashed down my cheeks into my ears. The sense of hope and relief that we were at the hospital, that I was now in better hands than my own, that I could trust them to do whatever was needed; it all left me with the freedom to dissolve into a private jelly of remorse, terror, and hope.

A team of attendants carefully, inch by inch, transferred me from the gurney to a table. My eyes roved the faces for the clue I hoped not to see. The room swam, and then it was quiet. I was waiting. The pain was easing a bit due to drugs and I began a methodical inventory. There was no pain in my arms or legs and I desperately hoped that the numbness was due to the drugs. But when I tried to move them, there was nothing.

A kindly older doctor came and looked into my eyes. “You are seriously injured. Sadly, you will lose more than your arms and legs.” He saw the terrified question in my eyes and continued. “The human body cannot survive that kind of a fall. Your internal organs are shutting down.”

I couldn’t speak. Silent, too, was the wail that arose in my soul. Every horrible emotion swirled in my being. Mostly I hated myself for doing this to me. I cannot begin to describe the hell of self-loathing that suffocated me.

“Would you like to get better?” I couldn’t believe I had heard that. Was he nuts? He had just said I was going to die, hadn’t he? “Of course, I want to get better!” I wanted to scream.

I don’t know what happened, maybe I managed a slight nod, or perhaps he again correctly read my eyes. I remember one last gaze from that intensely interested face. I searched it to see if there was some evil humor or sadistic tic. No, he was focused on me, and with a new look of resolute purpose he strained as he pressed on my sides.

I heard it again, that horrible snap! His eyes rolled back and he drew in a sharp breath. Two attendants rushed to his side as he crumpled onto the gurney. “What on earth!” I cried, “Is he going to be alright? Is he having a heart attack?”

“No,” said another attendant as the two wheeled the doctor out of the room. “No, he’s taking your injury away.”

It was then that I realized I was sitting bolt upright on the edge of the examining table. The pain was gone, the drugged feeling was gone. I felt better than when I was packing for the climb. “This is weird,” I said. “I’d like to leave now, but… did he take my entire injury? I mean, is what was going to happen to me, happening to him?”

The attendant nodded “yes” and I saw tears running silently down his cheeks. The others in the room stood transfixed with their eyes on the door through which he had exited.

I sat letting it all soak in. No, it just couldn’t soak in. It was something I simply couldn't fathom. How could an injury… Why would a doctor…Who do I owe, and how much?

Suddenly my mind was overwhelmed by thoughts about the doctor and his unfinished life. What other patients relied on him? I thought of his intelligence, his years of training, all the good he could have still done. My life was a pretty poor trade for his. It hadn’t been fair. Why had he done it? The world had lost the better man.

I cried uncontrollably. I couldn’t help it. Miserable thoughts swirled in my mind, yet my heart was coming alive with a desire to have known this sudden hero. I sobbed for a long time, and when I finally quieted, the room was heavy with silence.

“Can I go now?” is all I could whisper. How could I face this medical staff after killing their doctor. Well, I hadn’t really killed him; he’s the one that chose… but if I hadn’t been so reckless, he wouldn’t have had to choose. It was confusing, but I didn’t want to face his gifted friends.

At this the others in the room turned to look at me. “What can I do?” I asked. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. Is there any way I can help?”

“No,” said the one who had been speaking to me. “No, let us clean you up. Your mortal wounds are gone, but there is much blood to clean up, and you need some new clothing.”

They walked me to a basin where they washed away all the blood, the lacerated flesh, the tattered clothing. It all washed off, and I stood there in new skin and new clothes. My heart was becoming lighter, and life looked better than it ever had.

“So is this where I go see the accountant?” I asked with a wry smile.

“No, there’s still more to do,” my attendant answered, and I was led out of the room into a hall. After a few turns I stood in front of a door. The attendant hesitated and looked at me. “Are you ready for this?”

“What’s going to happen?” I wondered aloud.

“You’re going to get a new set of eyes, but it won’t be easy on your heart.”

“I… well…” a tingle of anticipation and dread came bubbling to the surface as a searched for an answer. “Am I ready for this?” I thought. “Ready for what? They haven’t told me anything. New eyes?... Hard on my heart?… What’s going to happen?”

“Well,” I said cautiously, “You people seem to know what you are doing, and…” Suddenly a new thought hit me: “Hey! Wait a minute. Is this part of the treatment? Standard procedure? Is this what he would have wanted?” 

The attendant nodded. 

At my reference to the doctor, my tears welled up again. The attendant looked at me sharply and said, “You’re ready.”

As the door swung open, I saw into what looked like the doctor’s office. There was a desk with papers and charts and I wondered about his interrupted work. My throat choked at the thought of this intelligent, well-trained professional trading his life for mine. But then I saw a photograph by his computer screen, and my heart stood still.

It was a picture of me when I was only eight. I was holding a rope looking at a big boulder in the campground where we had spent a week that summer. “How on earth!?” I looked quizzically at the attendant who smiled and gestured to a bulletin board behind me. Tacked on at crazy angles were pictures of me as a baby, on my first day of school, when I bought my first car… And there were other pictures I don’t even want to remember. What kind of person would keep pictures of my horrible times, the shameful things I had done?

“He didn’t like them either,” said the attendant reading my thoughts, “but they were a part of the whole picture. He always was one for honesty. He loved you, not just the senior-portrait you.”

“If he knew me all this time, why did I never hear of him? And who was sending him all these pictures, anyway?”

“There are three reasons we came to this room,” said the attendant, “and answering those questions isn’t one of them.”

I saw a large photo album and began to look at pages of unfamiliar faces.

“He loved them all,” said the attendant. “If you look closely you’ll see that his family photos are all mixed in there with the others.”

“That’s fascinating,” I murmured, “Who was this guy?” And my heart ached with curiosity to see the world the way he did. What kind of person could love so many people and still give it all up for just one? It was beginning to make me question my own definition of love.

“Well,” said the attendant, “I see one purpose is being met. Here’s something to help with the next.” And with that he placed a very large three-ring binder in my hand. “This is what he wanted you to have.”

“He talked to you about me? About leaving stuff to me?” I asked in amazement. I thrilled at the thought of what might be between the covers of that great binder.

“Yes, he talked of you quite often, and I think he knew that today was the day. Just this morning he said, ‘Be sure he gets this. I want him to have it.’”

“Wow,” I said, running my hands reverently over the surface of the book. “Should I read it right now?”

“No. Don’t read it; digest it. Study it. Go over it again and again. Think about it. Talk about it. Keep coming back to it, because in it he’s giving you a piece of his mind.”

I smiled. That phrase had always sounded like a threat, and yet now there was nothing I wanted more than a piece of his mind… a great big piece of his fascinating, wonderful mind.

So I took the binder home with me. I have read it and reread it many times.

What’s in it? Nothing much, just a collection of stories and articles, poems and cartoons, a few recipes and a puzzle or two. But it is so him! The more I read and ponder, the more I think I am getting to know the real him. I can hear his voice. It comes back with increasing clarity as though I’m hearing him over and over, “You are seriously injured. Would you like to get better?” And my heart thrills with an exuberant “Yes!”

Have I been back to the hospital? I did go back once. Some of the faces in his photo album had begun to haunt me. I wanted to look into those faces again to see if I could see something that he had seen. I felt they might be a further clue as to his magnificence. Maybe if I could see them the way he saw them, then maybe I could see me the way he did. And maybe then I’d have acquired a bigger piece of his mind.

They gave me a few pages to study, and said something about the “third purpose.”

I’ve actually met some of the people in the photographs. It’s always a big thrill when I do, but all-in-all their just ordinary folks. The strange thing is that my heart goes out to them; like I’d known them long ago. I try to find ways to treat them well in his absence. I wonder what he would have done for them. After all, he collected their pictures, too. I wish I could give them the same gift he gave me. I even tell them about him, but that is usually met with blank stares. Few of them have any idea of who I’m talking about. Still, I know that they mattered to him, so they matter to me.

I went back to the hospital a second time, but the whole place was gone. It was eerie. There was a big empty lot surrounded by barbed wire and a couple security guards. It was a scary section of town. A few old timers thought they remembered a hospital “a-way back,” but it just wasn’t that long ago. I know it wasn’t. I feel like I’m in some kind of Twilight Zone. How could something so real, so personal, and so beneficial be so obscure? And what’s with them guarding an empty lot?

How do I feel about the doctor now? Well, I feel pretty guilty some times. When I think of my stupidity in climbing where I shouldn’t have, I know that my carelessness cost this world a great man. But then, honestly, I don’t know if this world would notice if he were still here. It’s all so… What? “How do I feel about him?” Ha! I love him! Pure and simple. And I think I know him better now than I know my own family.

Okay, you’ve stuck with me this far so let me tell you the craziest part of it all… and I know it’s a crazy story. It messes with my own mind. Sometimes even I doubt the whole thing. But I still have the binder and the photos. And pretty often I am washed with that same sense of horrible failing and that wonderful sense of his magnificent life being traded for mine. And I’m certain he wants me to celebrate what he did and not sit around grieving about how I have messed up. It's unfair, I know. I don't deserve that kind of joy, but there it is. He was so intensely for me, that the story ceases to be about me. It’s about his intensity. It's about him. He just never gives up.

The craziest part? Yes, I’m getting there. It’s this: I’m sure I’ll see him again. No, seriously. Sprinkled throughout that binder are little notes and poems and songs that hint of it. They're connecting more as I reread. A few say it outright. It may be hard to believe, but the more I come to feel his heart in that binder, the more I catch his quirky, playful side. Somehow, I think his death just can’t be the end of the story. I know he’s got something up his sleeve. Really. He’s even been showing up in my dreams, and I’m positive. Can’t wait!

Okay, now that your bones have grasped the sanctuary model, I’ll introduce it to your brains… next week.