Earth and Heaven

Continuing to read Amy Carmichael, and am struggling through a few thoughts this evening. In one of the meditations, she speaks of "trivial" things in our lives that we sometimes let sidetrack us from the real purpose of our lives, serving God. Essentially she is saying that there's nothing wrong with "recreation" or various pastimes in our lives, as long as they will not cause a leakage of spiritual power. She also adds that certain things that might be fine for one person (would not cause them to be distracted, or led astray, or lead to addiction...these are my words here, not her's, but I think they capture the gist of what she means) might not be fine for another person in a different situation or with a different temperament. Again, I'm paraphrasing and extrapolating, but I think this is what she's getting at.

And I appreciate that insight. In fact, I think it's a good one to ponder, to use for reflection when we're involving ourselves in a lot of time and effort in any kind of activity -- does this help or hinder my spiritual growth? My relationship with God? My "gladness and singleness of heart" to quote the Book of Common Prayer?

At the same time, I wrestled a bit with her continued reflections on keeping ourselves separate from the world. She writes "Those of us who are God's emissaries are to treat the world (not just its corruptions, but its legitimate joys, its priveleges and blessings also), as a thing to be touched at a distance...It is not that He forbids us this or that indulgence or comfort; not that He is stern, calling us to a life of harsh asceticism, as if that would make Him more pleased with us. No, it is that we who love our Lord, and we whose affections are set on the things that are heaven for us today -- we voluntarily and gladly lay aside things that charm the world, so that we may be charmed and ravished with the things of heaven."

What she is saying, I think, is that our allegiance is to a "higher Kingdom" (as she calls it later on) and my heart resonates so deeply with that. My heart also resonates with the reality that as the people of God, made for eternity, we will always in some sense be wanderers and exiles on earth, with no permanent home. On the other hand, and this is where my more sacramental understanding of life comes into play, I am a created creature living in a good (though fallen) creation, and I am an encultured being. All that I know and understand and can meditate on concerning heaven and ultimate things and the Kingdom (and what all that is like) is mediated to me through the "stuff" of this world -- creation, yes, but also words and pictures (especially the inspired words and pictures of the Scriptures). Earth and heaven are deeply connected, made by the same good God, and though "sundered" now deeply connected again by the incarnation, death and resurrection of Jesus. I keep thinking of Jesus telling Nathanael how he would see heaven open, and angels ascending and descending on the Son of Man (a passage I heard a sermon on last week). Jesus came to earth to open heaven, and to himself be that "ladder," that "bridge" between the two. And because He came, we know that there will be times and places in our lives, even here in exile on earth, where we will know, like Jacob who had that first vision of the ladder of angels in Genesis, that "surely God was here in this place and I did not know it."

Not that I think Amy Carmichael would have any problem with what I'm saying. And I've wandered far afield. I think her general point is very sound; she's clearly not advocating a full retreat from the world, nor an ascetic kind of withdrawal from the world, simply a cautious and careful drawing back from the "vain things that charm (us) most" and threaten to pull our attention from the ultimate realities that really do matter most. It's probably a word I need to hear more than I realize, living in such a deeply materialistic culture, a culture that spends all its time and energy worrying about and worshipping the things we can see, and either ignoring, debasing, or deciding that the things which we can't see are simply "not there."

In the world, but not of it. Just passing through, and yet called to passionately love. Walking carefully, and yet trusting lavishly. Loving the gifts, but never satisfied fully with anything less than the Giver. That seems to be our call.