Dueling Billboards

As Julie and I travel around the country, we see many billboards and church marquis. Most of these say in one way or another that God loves us. But along with these glad tidings of a loving God stand others, which tell a very different story. One of these, for example, has a picture of glowing clouds on the left and wicked flames on the right. It read, 

Where will go when you die? Heaven or Hell?

An 800 number was given to find out. Another warned in giant, capital letters, 

“REMEMBER HELL”

(Matthew 25:41)

Matthew 25:41 says this.

Then He will also say to those on His left, ‘Depart from Me, accursed ones, into the eternal fire which has been prepared for the devil and his angels. (Matthew 25:41)

Does God love me? It depends on which billboard you read. This confusion is not just on billboards. The Bible seems to contain a conflicting messages as well. We delight in John 3:16-17. 

For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish, but have eternal life. For God did not send the Son into the world to judge the world, but that the world might be saved through Him. (John 3:16-17)

No judgment? Eternal life? That sounds like a God I can come to! But a few verses later we read,

He who does not obey the Son will not see life, but the wrath of God abides on him.” (John 3:36)

What happened to the God who loved the world and wouldn’t condemn? Could I be one of the disobedient ones? I certainly can’t claim to always obey Jesus. Will God’s wrath abide on me? 

Evidently, God has a good side and a bad side. He is a loving father, ready to throw his arms around me but also an angry judge, ready to throw the book at me.

The standard way to resolve this is to say that God’s love is conditional, just like mine. I can be loving and I can be mean. It all depends on how you approach me. Push the right buttons and you’ll walk away saying, “What a nice man!” Poke the wrong buttons and you’ll walk away saying, “What a jerk!” This is how God is. The trick is to get on his good side. 

How, then, is it claimed that God loves everyone? By emphasizing that God is willing to love everyone who approaches him in the right way. All are invited to the party. Not all get in. Some are loved. Others are shut out forever. Who gets shut out? That’s the big question. 

The Calvinists say God decides who is in and who is out. There is nothing we can do about it. The Arminians say it’s up to us. Either way, we’re left with the same result. Some are in and some are out.

When churches preach the “good news,” they are generally not proclaiming that God loves everyone. The good news is that they have discovered the formula for getting on God’s good side. There is a list of beliefs, or religious rites, or set of behaviors that guarantee God’s love. They have the formula. Of course, other churches have formulas too. Watch out. Likely as not, they’ll land you in hell. 

Here’s the problem: If God has a good side and a bad side it’s hard to be certain about how God feels about me. I may think I have the formula but how do I know for sure? A lot of smart people disagree on this. What are the odds that my group has it right? It’s hard not to keep glancing nervously over my shoulder. Millions of Christians live this way. They hope God loves them. They think so. But they can't really be sure.

But what if you don’t have to worry about getting on God’s good side since God doesn’t have a bad side? What if God isn’t divided? What if God loves everyone? What if the warnings about fire and judgment are not contradictions of God’s love but expressions of it, meant to cleanse and purify, not destroy. 

The Consuming Fire

Dueling Billboards

As Julie and I travel around the country, we see many billboards and church marquis. Most of these say in one way or another that God loves us. But along with these glad tidings of a loving God stand others, which tell a very different story. One of these, for example, has a picture of glowing clouds on the left and wicked flames on the right. It read, 

Where will go when you die? Heaven or Hell?

An 800 number was given to find out. Another warned in giant, capital letters, 

“REMEMBER HELL”

(Matthew 25:41)

Matthew 25:41 says this.

Then He will also say to those on His left, ‘Depart from Me, accursed ones, into the eternal fire which has been prepared for the devil and his angels. (Matthew 25:41)

Does God love me? It depends on which billboard you read. This confusion is not just on billboards. The Bible seems to contain a conflicting messages as well. We delight in John 3:16-17. 

For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish, but have eternal life. For God did not send the Son into the world to judge the world, but that the world might be saved through Him. (John 3:16-17)

No judgment? Eternal life? That sounds like a God I can come to! But a few verses later we read,

He who does not obey the Son will not see life, but the wrath of God abides on him.” (John 3:36)

What happened to the God who loved the world and wouldn’t condemn? Could I be one of the disobedient ones? I certainly can’t claim to always obey Jesus. Will God’s wrath abide on me? 

Evidently, God has a good side and a bad side. He is a loving father, ready to throw his arms around me but also an angry judge, ready to throw the book at me.

The standard way to resolve this is to say that God’s love is conditional, just like mine. I can be loving and I can be mean. It all depends on how you approach me. Push the right buttons and you’ll walk away saying, “What a nice man!” Poke the wrong buttons and you’ll walk away saying, “What a jerk!” This is how God is. The trick is to get on his good side. 

How, then, is it claimed that God loves everyone? By emphasizing that God is willing to love everyone who approaches him in the right way. All are invited to the party. Not all get in. Some are loved. Others are shut out forever. Who gets shut out? That’s the big question. 

The Calvinists say God decides who is in and who is out. There is nothing we can do about it. The Arminians say it’s up to us. Either way, we’re left with the same result. Some are in and some are out.

When churches preach the “good news,” they are generally not proclaiming that God loves everyone. The good news is that they have discovered the formula for getting on God’s good side. There is a list of beliefs, or religious rites, or set of behaviors that guarantee God’s love. They have the formula. Of course, other churches have formulas too. Watch out. Likely as not, they’ll land you in hell. 

Here’s the problem: If God has a good side and a bad side it’s hard to be certain about how God feels about me. I may think I have the formula but how do I know for sure? A lot of smart people disagree on this. What are the odds that my group has it right? It’s hard not to keep glancing nervously over my shoulder. Millions of Christians live this way. They hope God loves them. They think so. But they can't really be sure.

But what if you don’t have to worry about getting on God’s good side since God doesn’t have a bad side? What if God isn’t divided? What if God loves everyone? What if the warnings about fire and judgment are not contradictions of God’s love but expressions of it, meant to cleanse and purify, not destroy. 

The Consuming Fire

We Owe the IRS. What’s Your Story?

Julie and I just got our tax information. We were hoping to get money back this year but due to some stupidity on our part and bad advice we owe $5136. The real challenge is not coming up with $5136. The real challenge is not letting the bad news sink us in a pit of despair. What did we do wrong to bring all this on ourselves? Why can’t we live on easy street like other people? Is God punishing us? 

These are foolish questions. The truth is that no one lives on easy street. Everyone, without exception, struggles. Many deal with problems far worse than ours: cancer, divorce, car accidents, addictions, loneliness, abusive parents, depression… Pick any person. Dig deep enough and you’ll find pain. From a distance, others may appear to live a charmed life but up close, the illusion vanishes. In fact, I don’t feel like I really know a person until I know their pain. 

If you’re reading this and think you have been left out, just hang on. Life may be rocking along pleasantly at the moment but you’ll get your turn to suffer soon enough. We all do.

The Cold Hard Facts

We are born with an expiration date. We might make a big splash or a little in this world one but either way the ripples of your life quickly disappear. We do our best to hide our eyes and plug our ears to this but there is no escaping it. Life is a limited time offer.  

Inexplicable Hope

The strange thing is that in the face of overwhelming evidence that our lives are meaningless, nearly everyone lives as if there is hope. In the grand scheme of the universe we are specks too small to measure. The fleeting years of our lives are a flash too small to see. Still, we go around as if it is all matters. Why? 

When people face tragedy we hold them in our arms and say “It’s gonna be alright.” This makes no sense. The one think we can say with certainty is that it will not be alright. Maybe things will get better for a little while, then they will die. How is that “alright?” And then, when they die we say, “They are in a better place” even as we throw dirt on their dead, rotting corpses. What is wrong with us?

Maybe nothing. We say and do these things because of something we do not see but definitely feel: hope. Along with the depressing facts that lead to the conclusion that our lives don’t matter, there is something inside of us that says they do. Intuitively, we feel that our struggle is important, that there is a point to our lives.

Jesus gave a name to hope. He called it the Kingdom of God and claimed it was more real, more solid, more permanent than anything. What we see is not all there is, not by a long shot, and the end of our lives is not the final chapter in our story. Our dying world opens up on a brighter and better one in which God is making all things new. 

The Theme of the Story: Redeeming Love

Jesus was a teacher who filled people’s hearts with hope. This was not the usual religious mumbo-jumbo. When Jesus described the Kingdom of God, the heavens were parted and people experienced the unseen. The crowds’ reaction at the end of the Sermon on the Mount is typical.

When Jesus had finished saying these things, the crowds were amazed at his teaching, for he taught with real authority—quite unlike their teachers of religious law. (Matthew 7:28-29)

The word “amazed” means “overwhelmed,” or “astounded.” Jesus wasn’t just a good teacher. When he spoke of the age to come, people were undone. They believed saw it. They believed him. He spoke with certainty, like a person with firsthand experience. 

But Jesus did more than teach about the Kingdom of God. He lived it. He loved everyone. He was as welcoming to a prostitute as a Pharisee. Those who encountered him were forced to face the truth about themselves. We got a sneak peak at the end of the human story in the way J...

We Owe the IRS. What’s Your Story?

Julie and I just got our tax information. We were hoping to get money back this year but due to some stupidity on our part and bad advice we owe $5136. The real challenge is not coming up with $5136. The real challenge is not letting the bad news sink us in a pit of despair. What did we do wrong to bring all this on ourselves? Why can’t we live on easy street like other people? Is God punishing us? 

These are foolish questions. The truth is that no one lives on easy street. Everyone, without exception, struggles. Many deal with problems far worse than ours: cancer, divorce, car accidents, addictions, loneliness, abusive parents, depression… Pick any person. Dig deep enough and you’ll find pain. From a distance, others may appear to live a charmed life but up close, the illusion vanishes. In fact, I don’t feel like I really know a person until I know their pain. 

If you’re reading this and think you have been left out, just hang on. Life may be rocking along pleasantly at the moment but you’ll get your turn to suffer soon enough. We all do.

The Cold Hard Facts

We are born with an expiration date. We might make a big splash or a little in this world one but either way the ripples of your life quickly disappear. We do our best to hide our eyes and plug our ears to this but there is no escaping it. Life is a limited time offer.  

Inexplicable Hope

The strange thing is that in the face of overwhelming evidence that our lives are meaningless, nearly everyone lives as if there is hope. In the grand scheme of the universe we are specks too small to measure. The fleeting years of our lives are a flash too small to see. Still, we go around as if it is all matters. Why? 

When people face tragedy we hold them in our arms and say “It’s gonna be alright.” This makes no sense. The one think we can say with certainty is that it will not be alright. Maybe things will get better for a little while, then they will die. How is that “alright?” And then, when they die we say, “They are in a better place” even as we throw dirt on their dead, rotting corpses. What is wrong with us?

Maybe nothing. We say and do these things because of something we do not see but definitely feel: hope. Along with the depressing facts that lead to the conclusion that our lives don’t matter, there is something inside of us that says they do. Intuitively, we feel that our struggle is important, that there is a point to our lives.

Jesus gave a name to hope. He called it the Kingdom of God and claimed it was more real, more solid, more permanent than anything. What we see is not all there is, not by a long shot, and the end of our lives is not the final chapter in our story. Our dying world opens up on a brighter and better one in which God is making all things new. 

The Theme of the Story: Redeeming Love

Jesus was a teacher who filled people’s hearts with hope. This was not the usual religious mumbo-jumbo. When Jesus described the Kingdom of God, the heavens were parted and people experienced the unseen. The crowds’ reaction at the end of the Sermon on the Mount is typical.

When Jesus had finished saying these things, the crowds were amazed at his teaching, for he taught with real authority—quite unlike their teachers of religious law. (Matthew 7:28-29)

The word “amazed” means “overwhelmed,” or “astounded.” Jesus wasn’t just a good teacher. When he spoke of the age to come, people were undone. They believed saw it. They believed him. He spoke with certainty, like a person with firsthand experience. 

But Jesus did more than teach about the Kingdom of God. He lived it. He loved everyone. He was as welcoming to a prostitute as a Pharisee. Those who encountered him were forced to face the truth about themselves. We got a sneak peak at the end of the human story in the way J...

Shooting Star

The summers of my college years were spent working with youth at a big church in Richland Washington. I loved all of the kids but there was a special connection with a few. Jeff was one of those. He showed up early to help me set things up and was one of the last to leave. Some mornings we met to go jogging together.

That’s why, one evening, when we couldn’t find Jeff, I was worried. We had been waterskiing on the Snake River. The boat would take five or six kids out at a time, leaving the       to play in a roped off area by the shore. It was time to go home and we had rounded everyone up. Everyone, that is, except Jeff.

After an hour of searching, we were alarmed. After two hours, we called 911. A team of divers came out and began to search the murky waters along the shore. One of them found Jeff’s lifeless body on the bottom. The image of his hand going up to indicate that the search was over is forever seared in my mind.

The next eight weeks were surreal, a blur of investigations, the funeral, and ongoing youth activities. I moved into the basement of Jeff’s home during this time and witnessed firsthand grief that I only comprehend now that I am a parent.

One evening during that time, I went outside to fire questions for which there is no answer at the night sky. As I fired accusations at God, a shooting star shot across the sky in the exact place where I was looking. Shooting stars on a summers evening are not unheard of, but somehow I felt the presence of God in this one. It didn't take away the pain but it offered comfort.

When the summer ended, I made the drive back to Pullman, through the badlands of Eastern Washington. It was that indescribable time when the day is over but it is not yet night. The sky was an iridescent, slate blue. Angry tears poured from my eyes. I pounded on the steering wheel. What possible explanation could God give for this summer? I believed that God was both loving and powerful but there was no way to square this with the death of my friend or the grief of his family.

At that moment, an immense flaming star appeared in the eastern sky and arced to the west for ten full seconds.  This was not the normal flash of white against a black backdrop. It was a flaming orange ball with a long glowing tail. I pulled to the side of the road and bowed my head, feeling my angry tears dissolved into tears of a joy. It was not an answer, but somehow, everything was okay.

From a scientific point of view, shooting stars are not miracles. Space debris hits our atmosphere constantly. The appearance of that shooting star can easily be explained as a coincidence which an emotionally vulnerable young man chose to interpret as that presence of God. I understand this perspective; I just don’t believe it.

Jesus of Nazareth was a shooting star whose life left a mark on our world. That much is beyond dispute. But what does that life mean? Was his life like a piece of piece of space dust hitting the atmosphere or was it the star of Bethlehem, a visitation of God? What does it mean to trust Jesus? Is this superstition for weak-minded fools who can't face the truth or is it the secret of eternal life?

In this chapter, I will examine the life of Jesus, starting with what everyone saw, then exploring various ideas about the significance.

What Everyone Saw

People may not agree on the significance of Jesus but we should at least be able to agree on the data: A man named Jesus of Nazareth appeared on the scene in the early first century. He went from village to village, proclaiming and explaining the Kingdom of God. Some believed him to have miraculous powers. He spent most of his time with the poor and disenfranchised and offended the political-religious establishment of his day.

Although he never called for armed revolution, the religious leaders told the Romans that he was a threat. Rome dealt with Jesus as it did with all who made...

How I Lost It

Like most young people, I started life optimistically. I married a beautiful girl, started a church, built a house and raised three kids. Everything went according to the script, except that somewhere along the way I developed a slow leak.

Julie and I went from a tiny apartment, to a condo, to a small house, to our dream house on an acre. It was an exciting trip that took over 20 years, but suddenly, it was over. All that was left was maintenance and repairs. My youthful excitement over starting a church morphed into a daily grind of refereeing human conflict. The kids left the nest.

I felt like Charlie Brown trying to kick the football. I approached each new chapter of my life thinking, “This is is!” But every time, Lucy yanked the football away before I could kick it. After a while, I realized that the end of the rainbow is an optical illusion.

I first experienced this early in life. I was 11 years old, standing on the concrete slab in front of our garage, thrilled that I was going to a party with my friends that night. Out of nowhere, a thought whacked me on the head: Tomorrow, after the party, I would be be bored again. I would need another party, and another, and another. Could life be that meaningless? 

My teenage years deepened my suspicion. One moment I was flying high: I made the basketball team. The girl I was trying to impress smiled. I aced the test. The next moment I was moping around: The coach put me on the bench. The girl smiled at someone else. I got a D.

It would be hard to script a better life than I have had: Loving parents, a devoted wife, a rewarding job, great kids, and a nice home in the country. But having lived the American dream, I can say that, for me at least, it is just that—a dream. The pursuit of happiness is exhilarating but you never catch it. Lucy always pulls the football away and you wind up on your back, starting at the sky, wondering what’s next. Good grief!

Your life may have been much more difficult life than mine. I am truly sorry. But I’m here to tell you that even if your life had unfolded perfectly you would still feel a hunger that nothing can satisfy. It’s not an anomaly. It doesn’t happen just to a cursed few. It happens to everyone. It is the human condition.

The Wound That Can’t Be Healed

In the fairy tales, Cinderella and the Handsome Prince ride over the hill to live happily ever after. Tellingly, we never go with them to see. If we did, we would discover that, like the bear who went over the mountain, all they saw was the other side of the mountain; more of the same, world without end, amen. 

Ecclesiastes is said to contain the wisdom of Solomon, the wisest man who ever lived. Solomon set out on an all-out search for meaning. He approached it it with the zeal of an explorer and the precision of a scientist. One by one, he tried each option: wine, women, song,  hard work, hard liquor, leisure, wealth, education… He tried everything. After tracing every path to its bitter end, he offered up his conclusion: 

“Vanity of vanities! All is vanity.” (Ecclesiastes 1:2)

Modern seekers have tried and repeated Solomon’s experiment with similar results: 

Jagger can’t get no satisfaction.

Bono still hasn’t found what he’s looking for.

Peggy Lee can’t believe that this is all there is. 

Dylan saw that everything is broken.

Emily Dickinson searched in vain for morning.

In The Greatest Showman, Jenny Lind complains that it’s never enough.

Everyone winds up in the wasteland with T.S. Eliot. 

A heap of broken images, where the sun beats,

And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief,

And the dry stone no sound of water. 

If you suspect that life is pointless and think you’re alone,

How I Lost It

Like most young people, I started life optimistically. I married a beautiful girl, started a church, built a house and raised three kids. Everything went according to the script, except that somewhere along the way I developed a slow leak.

Julie and I went from a tiny apartment, to a condo, to a small house, to our dream house on an acre. It was an exciting trip that took over 20 years, but suddenly, it was over. All that was left was maintenance and repairs. My youthful excitement over starting a church morphed into a daily grind of refereeing human conflict. The kids left the nest.

I felt like Charlie Brown trying to kick the football. I approached each new chapter of my life thinking, “This is is!” But every time, Lucy yanked the football away before I could kick it. After a while, I realized that the end of the rainbow is an optical illusion.

I first experienced this early in life. I was 11 years old, standing on the concrete slab in front of our garage, thrilled that I was going to a party with my friends that night. Out of nowhere, a thought whacked me on the head: Tomorrow, after the party, I would be be bored again. I would need another party, and another, and another. Could life be that meaningless? 

My teenage years deepened my suspicion. One moment I was flying high: I made the basketball team. The girl I was trying to impress smiled. I aced the test. The next moment I was moping around: The coach put me on the bench. The girl smiled at someone else. I got a D.

It would be hard to script a better life than I have had: Loving parents, a devoted wife, a rewarding job, great kids, and a nice home in the country. But having lived the American dream, I can say that, for me at least, it is just that—a dream. The pursuit of happiness is exhilarating but you never catch it. Lucy always pulls the football away and you wind up on your back, starting at the sky, wondering what’s next. Good grief!

Your life may have been much more difficult life than mine. I am truly sorry. But I’m here to tell you that even if your life had unfolded perfectly you would still feel a hunger that nothing can satisfy. It’s not an anomaly. It doesn’t happen just to a cursed few. It happens to everyone. It is the human condition.

The Wound That Can’t Be Healed

In the fairy tales, Cinderella and the Handsome Prince ride over the hill to live happily ever after. Tellingly, we never go with them to see. If we did, we would discover that, like the bear who went over the mountain, all they saw was the other side of the mountain; more of the same, world without end, amen. 

Ecclesiastes is said to contain the wisdom of Solomon, the wisest man who ever lived. Solomon set out on an all-out search for meaning. He approached it it with the zeal of an explorer and the precision of a scientist. One by one, he tried each option: wine, women, song,  hard work, hard liquor, leisure, wealth, education… He tried everything. After tracing every path to its bitter end, he offered up his conclusion: 

“Vanity of vanities! All is vanity.” (Ecclesiastes 1:2)

Modern seekers have tried and repeated Solomon’s experiment with similar results: 

Jagger can’t get no satisfaction.

Bono still hasn’t found what he’s looking for.

Peggy Lee can’t believe that this is all there is. 

Dylan saw that everything is broken.

Emily Dickinson searched in vain for morning.

In The Greatest Showman, Jenny Lind complains that it’s never enough.

Everyone winds up in the wasteland with T.S. Eliot. 

A heap of broken images, where the sun beats,

And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief,

And the dry stone no sound of water. 

If you suspect that life is pointless and think you’re alone,

The Night I Met God

This is one of my first childhood memories. 

My mom had tucked me in and I was staring at the ceiling when, suddenly, I was in the presence of God. I felt loved. I felt safe. I felt happy. I felt things too wonderful to describe. I wasn’t lying in bed. I was lying at the end of the rainbow.

The sensation was so intense that I had to tell someone. I got up and shuffled across the hall to my parents’ room. They looked at me bleary-eyed, probably wondering why I wouldn’t go to sleep. I spurted out the first words that popped into my head: 

“I feel like nothing bad could ever happen to me!”

They had no idea what was talking about, of course. 

“That's nice,” they said. “Go back to bed.”

I did. I lay there, letting God wash over me like star shine, slowly fading to black. 

It has been over fifty years but I still remember that night. Why? Of all the hundreds of nights, why does that one stick with me? 

Because it was my first encounter with God, my first taste of wholeness. Like all human wholeness, it came as a gift. I had not been praying or reading the Bible or thinking about God at all. The arms of love appeared from the sky, wrapped themselves around me, and made everything unshakably okay. 

I’ll bet that you have experienced wholeness too.  It may have come when you were out in nature. You may have experienced it in a relationship. Maybe it surprised you in the midst of a crisis. The love of God wrapped itself around you and made everything okay. There was a glorious moment when deep peace that filled you entire being. You felt like nothing bad could ever happen to you.

Wholeness Is Fleeting

Unfortunately, these experiences are the exception, not the rule. Most of the time, everything is not okay—not by a long shot. Your relationships are strained. You are overweight. Cancer threatens. Politics make you crazy. You’re in a car crash. You owe money on your income taxes. The kids are in trouble. Your life seems like a story without a plot. 

You’re the opposite of the boy who burst into his parent’s room exclaiming, “It feels like nothing bad could ever happen to me!” The one thing you feel sure about is that bad things will happen to you.

Failure!

Everyone feels this. The normal way to deal with all this is to bury your head in the sand. This can take many forms. Throw yourself into your work. Start a hobby. Become a Netflix addict. Dissolve yourself into your Facebook feed. Sneak off to look at porn. Eat ice cream. Drink too much. 

You can even use religion to avoid facing this troubled world and your broken life. As a fan of the Simpsons, I call this the Ned Flanders syndrome. The more religious you become, the more you turn into a cartoon character.

There are billion dollar industries that reap their profits from problems caused by these futile attempts to manufacture wholeness. Some bring temporary relief but none provide a solution. Why? Because they treat symptoms, not the disease. It’s impossible to stop the haunting question: “Is this all there is?”

So is it hopeless? Are you condemned to a lifetime of gray despair punctuated by a few exhilarating flashes of full color wholeness? Is the best you can do to stay distracted and try to ignore the gray? Or could there be a way to make wholeness a way of life, to make every moment full color and three dimensional? 

Jesus taught a way of life that makes wholeness the norm. He showed how we can live in God’s presence today, tomorrow, and forever. He called it “the Kingdom of God,” “eternal life,” “salvation.” 

You’re skeptical. If Jesus offers this, why are most people who follow him just as goofed up as everyone else? There is actually a simple reason for this. Somewhere along the way,

The Night I Met God

This is one of my first childhood memories. 

My mom had tucked me in and I was staring at the ceiling when, suddenly, I was in the presence of God. I felt loved. I felt safe. I felt happy. I felt things too wonderful to describe. I wasn’t lying in bed. I was lying at the end of the rainbow.

The sensation was so intense that I had to tell someone. I got up and shuffled across the hall to my parents’ room. They looked at me bleary-eyed, probably wondering why I wouldn’t go to sleep. I spurted out the first words that popped into my head: 

“I feel like nothing bad could ever happen to me!”

They had no idea what was talking about, of course. 

“That's nice,” they said. “Go back to bed.”

I did. I lay there, letting God wash over me like star shine, slowly fading to black. 

It has been over fifty years but I still remember that night. Why? Of all the hundreds of nights, why does that one stick with me? 

Because it was my first encounter with God, my first taste of wholeness. Like all human wholeness, it came as a gift. I had not been praying or reading the Bible or thinking about God at all. The arms of love appeared from the sky, wrapped themselves around me, and made everything unshakably okay. 

I’ll bet that you have experienced wholeness too.  It may have come when you were out in nature. You may have experienced it in a relationship. Maybe it surprised you in the midst of a crisis. The love of God wrapped itself around you and made everything okay. There was a glorious moment when deep peace that filled you entire being. You felt like nothing bad could ever happen to you.

Wholeness Is Fleeting

Unfortunately, these experiences are the exception, not the rule. Most of the time, everything is not okay—not by a long shot. Your relationships are strained. You are overweight. Cancer threatens. Politics make you crazy. You’re in a car crash. You owe money on your income taxes. The kids are in trouble. Your life seems like a story without a plot. 

You’re the opposite of the boy who burst into his parent’s room exclaiming, “It feels like nothing bad could ever happen to me!” The one thing you feel sure about is that bad things will happen to you.

Failure!

Everyone feels this. The normal way to deal with all this is to bury your head in the sand. This can take many forms. Throw yourself into your work. Start a hobby. Become a Netflix addict. Dissolve yourself into your Facebook feed. Sneak off to look at porn. Eat ice cream. Drink too much. 

You can even use religion to avoid facing this troubled world and your broken life. As a fan of the Simpsons, I call this the Ned Flanders syndrome. The more religious you become, the more you turn into a cartoon character.

There are billion dollar industries that reap their profits from problems caused by these futile attempts to manufacture wholeness. Some bring temporary relief but none provide a solution. Why? Because they treat symptoms, not the disease. It’s impossible to stop the haunting question: “Is this all there is?”

So is it hopeless? Are you condemned to a lifetime of gray despair punctuated by a few exhilarating flashes of full color wholeness? Is the best you can do to stay distracted and try to ignore the gray? Or could there be a way to make wholeness a way of life, to make every moment full color and three dimensional? 

Jesus taught a way of life that makes wholeness the norm. He showed how we can live in God’s presence today, tomorrow, and forever. He called it “the Kingdom of God,” “eternal life,” “salvation.” 

You’re skeptical. If Jesus offers this, why are most people who follow him just as goofed up as everyone else? There is actually a simple reason for this. Somewhere along the way,