Tomorrow morning, my wife and I depart for a childless week-long vacation. “Big deal,” you say?
Yes indeed!
To mark our 15th anniversary, we are headed to northern California. Shannon has always wanted to behold the Redwood forests. Throw in San Francisco, and there will have no problem filling a very different week than those to which we’ve become accustomed.
For years, I’ve stumbled across quotes and concepts attributed to “the mystics”. Much of the time, these findings have come like flecks of gold brightening and en-valuing the stream in which they sit.
I confess that this discovery has evolved into a minor obsession with mysticism. In a recent post, I acknowledged that blogging was being bumped backward in my priority list to free up time and energy for larger writing projects. One of those revolves around mysticism.
At one point, I had started a second blog aimed with the intent of focusing all of its content on mysticism. Would you believe maintaining two blogs was more work than maintaining one? So I will now proceed to move those posts over to this site one at a time. Here is the first post, originally written on May 30, 2011, as introduction to soon-to-be-extinct site: Meandering Mystic.
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A meandering mystic.
That might describe me. At the least, it speaks of someone I hope to be.
The word “mysticism” planted itself in my mind years ago. Each day, I see a few more sprigs of what has been growing ever since.
The term itself can cause confusion; the mere sound of the word sets off connections with “mystery”, translated internally as “weird” or “nutty” or “cuckoo”.
However, at its heart, mysticism speaks of experience with God, of tasting of His presence in a tangible way. Pressed further, it can even allude to a sensed union of human with Divine.
Perhaps the phrasing of that last sentence does border on “out there”, but my soul feels a real need for more of God. And if it isn’t real on an experiential level, then it feels like little more than intellectual consideration of concepts such as God.
And that type of spiritual life has nothing to offer this fellow, who has lived on that level for too many days already.
So I meander, with the word “mystic” to guide me. Perhaps I’ll arrive there yet.
Both of these men were featured on TV last night.
One is trying to be funny; I’m not so sure about the other.
Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Jerry Seinfeld and Gregg Popovich.
The topic of hell has received an unusual amount of attention in Western theological discussion over the past decade. Of course, the most popular strand of this discussion centered around Rob Bell’s book “Love Wins”, with denser strands weaving through the academic realms of publication and discussion.
Much of the conversation is built around distaste for the concept of never-ending punishment, particularly as it is wrapped in imagery of fire and burning. This leads to several valid questions:
These are just a sampling of the sub-topics that factor into the larger discussion of “What do you make of the concept of hell?” Certainly, this discussion matters; to some, it appears to matter immensely.
I am not among that number.
Part of that is due to the following quote from Timothy Keller:
“To say that Scripture’s image of hellfire isn’t wholly literal is no comfort whatsoever—the reality will be far worse than the image.”
We can hardly be blamed for our flesh-fettered views. Nerves and neurons, skin and sensation, these are the means by which we experience our world. And in that light, it is easy to see why heaven’s depiction is golden and lavish, while hell’s is dark and despairing.
What if the imagery–as vivid as imagery and language can formulate–fails to capture the intensity?
What if the most intense scenes of suffering that a human imagination can generate are pitifully poor metaphors for communicating the reality of a creature cut off from its Creator?
It seems easy to convince people that heaven will actually surpass an experience revolving around golden streets and massive mansions. We recognize that the extravagant physical depictions fail to express even a sliver of the spiritual reality. We acknowledge that the core of that experience will center upon the overwhelming and unmissable presence of God and upon the river of life-to-the-full that will flood-flow from Him to His companions.
Yet seldom is an equivalent argument applied to hell. And if the case is made, then it’s made only halfway. It is one step to recognize the limitations of imagery and vocabulary. One can say that without saying much.
But it is a big-as-a-beast statement to suggest that the imagery of hell, the metaphors that make us squirm, even buck against the entire concept, are actually too weak to communicate the magnitude of the reality.
If heaven is actually better than jewel-encrusted architecture, then the counter-statement stands too.
C.S. Lewis used to speak of “the unsmiling concentration upon Self, which is the mark of hell.” Unchecked and freely reigning within a life, self-centeredness consumes in ways sparks never will. It scars the soul and warps one’s world. And it appears that anyone who desires this path can have it. So powerfully are we created that our choices in the present life ripple through eternity.
But we’d be wise to make our choices, aware that the imagery is not nearly so fierce as the reality.
Hell is worse than burning.
YOUR TURN: How do you handle the Bible’s imagery of the afterlife, in light of the thought that the imagery is actually light-weight when compared to the reality?
Become part of the conversation. Your voice makes this post better.
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I do not own a horse, never mind one that writes.
However, developing a steady writing rhythm has seemed nearly as impossible as discovering a pen-wielding pony! Over my blogging journey, I have been bucked off more times than I can count. But this latest two-month silence has been the hardest.
I WANT to write. Less than four months ago, I even took a dare to assert this identity with four blunt words: I am a writer.
Did I jinx myself? Scare myself? Did the birth of our third child, all of whom are currently four and younger, have something to do with it?
I don’t believe the first, I might buy the second, and I definitely embrace the third, though I refuse to use it as a full-blown excuse. There is never a perfect time to take a step forward; resistance and upward slope are always present. I do not deny the uniqueness to our little-kids season of life, but I also recognize the foolishness of awaiting ideal conditions before moving one’s feet.
Perhaps this post can be one such step, the throwing of a leg back over a saddle that I insist on filling.
Let’s ride, my friends.