Pastor John Van Sloten

I’ve never really understood the first few verses of the Bible’s Psalm 2 -  

“Why do the nations conspire
   and the peoples plot in vain?
² The kings of the earth rise up
   and the rulers band together
   against the LORD and against his anointed, saying,
³ “Let us break their chains
   and throw off their shackles.”

How is breaking someone’s chains and throwing off their shackles a condemnable thing (which the the psalm goes on to infer)?   How is bringing freedom an act of rebellion “against the Lord…”?   This morning I clued into a possible “answer”.  It lies in the words, “Let us…”  Perhaps the problem lies not in the bestowing of freedom, but instead in the claim to be the one who brings it.   Echoes of the story of the Tower of  Babel come to mind, “Let us build ourselves a city, with a tower that reaches to the heavens…” Genesis 11:4

To wrest control from God – the only real freedom bringer and city builder – is to sin against Him.  To claim to be the one who gets anything done in your life, is to forget that all that you are and accomplish are His, and subject to his holy and divine will.  “For in him we live and move and have our being.”  (the apostle Paul in Acts 17:28, quoting the Greek Philosopher Epimenides) 

Its a good reminder as I start this year.  I can’t make any of this happen.

We are most deceived when we abandon God for not doing things our way.

I just realized that this is what happened with Jesus’ disciples when they all deserted him as he was being arrested in the Garden of Gethsemane.  First Jesus prophesies that they’re all going to take off, leaving him in the lurch.  Then, to a follower, they said, “Even if all fall away on account of you, I never will.”  Then Jesus responds by telling them they will.  We will.  What I realized this morning, in reading the Gospel of Matthew, is that the abandoning happened immediately after the disillusionment.  They ran after Jesus chastised one of them for attempting to defend him (cutting off the High Priest’s servant – Malchus’ – ear).  Here his disciples were willing to fight for him and Jesus basically gives up without a fight.  It’s been noted before that the disciples had the wrong idea re: the kind of revolt Jesus was leading; they thought political reform (overturning the Roman occupation), while Jesus had other plans.  I knew this truth, but had never quite seen the sharp edge of that sword as it played out in this scene.  The disciples must have been hugely disillusioned when Jesus did what he did  – at the point where a true revolt should have taken off, Jesus showed his cards; enough so for them all to bail on him.

I think we followers do this all the time, whenever we don’t get what we want.  Whenever he’s not the God we expect him to be.

A friend sent me a great quote from Colum McCann’s book, “Let the Great World Spin“.  She thought it resonated deeply with what we were doing in our church.

“Corrigan told me once that Christ was quite easy to understand.  He went where He was supposed to go.  He stayed where He was needed.  He took little or nothing along, a pair of sandals, a bit of a shirt, a few odds and ends to stave off the loneliness.  He never rejected the world.  If He had rejected it, He would have been rejecting mystery.  And if He rejected mystery, He would have been rejecting faith.

What Corrigan wanted was a fully believable God, one you could find in the grime of the everyday.  The comfort he got from the hard, cold truth – the filth, the war, the poverty – was that life could be capable of small beauties.  He wasn’t interested in the glorious tales of the afterlife or the notions of a honey-soaked heaven.  To him that was a dressing room for hell.  Rather he consoled himself with the fact that, in the real world, when he looked closely into the darkness he might find the presence of a light, damaged and bruised, but a little light all the same.  He wanted, quite simply, for the world to be a better place, and he was in the habit of hoping for it.  Out of that came some sort of triumph that went beyond theological proof, a cause for optimism against all the evidence. “Someday the meek might actually want it.”  he said.”

One of the things I’ve come to realize through this ’seeking God in creational revelation’ journey is that often our idolatrous pursuits are aimed in the same direction as a genuine pursuit of God.  The problem with idolatry is that it falls short, or misses the mark (sometimes via a near miss), sort of like how arrows fail to hit the bullseye on an archery target.  Even though the idolatrous pursuit misses, it is still, often, aimed in the right direction.  To me there is a grace in this understanding.  I’ve always thought that idolatrous pursuits were always aimed in directions that were diametrically opposed to God – 180 degrees in the other direction.  But my experience  in discerning true, Godly yearnings in people’s love of art, sport, science, etc…  have led me realize that the problem doesn’t lie in the artful, sporting or scientific direction, it’s that the person pursuing them didn’t take their seeking far enough (pull back the bow far enough), or rightly set their launch angle – leaving them just a degree or two off course (which is still a miss, of course).  All this to say that I think that this more gracious view of idolatry leaves me in a better place in terms of helping others shoot further, or aim more accurately.  A bullseye is a lot closer than many in our near-missing world know.

At times I feel as though my thinking has come full circle.  For decades I’ve believed in a God who is present to all of life.  Via the Holy Spirit God whispers, guides, and holds me.  There’s nothing new in that way of thinking.  Many believers would accede to (and trust) this truth.  So how is what I’ve been living recently different from this perspective?  How is ‘knowing God’s presence all the time’ different from ‘knowing God’s presence in all things”?  

I think it has to do with my understanding of where the Spirit is speaking from.   In an ‘all the time’ worldview God  intimately speaks via my conscience, a mental image, or a gut feel sense of things.   Somehow the Spirit moves my senses to know something about God.  This was always a personal, very close, kind of thing, and often had something to do with me – a question I was asking, a need I needed met, whatever.   An ‘in all things’ experience is different.  While it’s impact is still subjective and personal (how can it not be?) God’s voice seems as though it’s a bit further away, coming from over there.  And often what’s being communicated has nothing to do with me – at least not immediately.  God is simply revealing something about himself, for his sake first, and then – in my apprehension and response – for my sake.

I like the subtlety of this difference.  In the latter case it’s more about God than it is about me.  Hearing God in everything forces revelation to not to be about me!

Too often in recent months I’ve experienced stress over the pace of change in our church. It comes and goes, and often revolves around a question like this, “Why is it taking so long for this idea of God-revealing-Himself-everywhere to catch on?” I read something tonight that helped me understand…

In His book, Culture Making, Andy Crouch writes this (quoting another author; Stewart Brand) about cultural change,

“Brand’s most important insight is that there is an inverse relationship between a cultural layer’s speed of change and its longevity of impact. The faster a given layer of culture changes, the less long-term effect it has on the horizons of possibility and impossibility. My life as an American citizen is profoundly shaped by centuries of development in our political system, especially the ideals of governance ratified by the Constitutional Convention in 1787 and shaped by countless legislative and judicial decisions since. But my life is not at all affected by the fashions for men’s wigs in 1787. By the same token, any change that will profoundly move the horizons of possibility and impossibility will almost always, by definition, take lots of time. The bigger the change we hope for, the longer we must be willing to invest, work and wait for it.”

This is a huge change that we’ve embarked on as a church. So big that its easy to miss, misunderstand, or ignore. Patience and hard work are in order.

This Sunday I’ll be preaching on Regina Spektor’s hit song, “Laughing with…” It’s a poignant commentary on God and faith. Here’s the link – http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rov3pV9PsRI What do you think God is saying through this artist’s musings?

The following comments are owned by whomever posted them. This site is not responsible for what they say.
laughing at God

Authored by: Anonymous on Thursday, November 12 2009 @ 12:03 AM PST
Wow, I was hoping if I left this a few days someone might comment…
I guess not!
The main thing I get out of her song (which is probably the most obvious
thing) is the idea that when life is peachy keen we don’t need God, and so
the idea of a creator and saviour is laughable. I mean, who needs God when
you’ve got more money than you need, a perfect house, delicious food, and
all the fun you can handle? It’s like the man who stored up all the food in
his barns and thought “I’ve got it made.” In our affluence it is easy to feel
like we’re in control and that we can handle anything.
Of course when things go wrong it’s like the floor falls out and people
wonder what they’ve done to deserve it. All of a sudden they HOPE they’re
not in control, because they have no idea how to fix it. That’s when the idea
of God maybe isn’t so laughable or unneeded. All of a sudden it’s like
“Somebody save me!” Of course when things go well again it’s just as easy
to forget the one that helped you out. You can convince yourself it was
really you.
But back to the guy that built up his barn… we can’t forget that God said,
“You FOOL! Tonight you die, and then what will become of your wealth?”
That line makes me think of “we’re laughing with God.” Maybe we think
we’re laughing at him, but ultimately he is in control and maybe he is
laughing with us because of our ignorance. Not that I think he would take
pleasure in our suffering or ignorance, it’s more the meaning behind the
words than the literal interpretation.
It’s easy to believe there is no God when you walk through life meeting all of
your own needs and feeling like you’re the center of the universe. Maybe
another Galileo needs to come along and say, “Um, actually, you’re not in
the centre. You’re just a part of a huge galaxy.”
Again, this seems to be the very base, surface meaning of the song, but that
is what hit me about it first, so I thought I’d share since no one else did. I
know there are probably a lot deeper interpretations out there and I hope
someone posts one or two!

laughing at God
Authored by: Anonymous on Sunday, November 22 2009 @ 06:00 PM PST
This song tells us to always have fellowhip with God–not just when we need Him.

Cool Site
Authored by: Anonymous on Saturday, November 28 2009 @ 03:51 PM PST
I have always enjoyed your site and this article is no exception. I have never commented here before but thought this was a good time to give you some props. Keep up the good work.

Reading the obituary page of the Globe and Mail today I was struck by the similarity of the gazes of two men…

Athlete Sam Etcheverry had outstanding hand/eye coordination and was one of the best CFL quarterbacks. Art critic James Lord had superb mind/eye coordination and was a famously astute observer of the Parisian art scene. Both men possessed a keen sense of observation; Etcheverry for the moving target of his reciever and Lord, for the deep truths in both art and artist. Studying their eyes I couldn’t help but see how both possessed a unique ability to see far afield. Lord connected what he saw to his critical mind, and Etcheverry transferred his observations to his right arm. Lord saw deeply, Etcheverry saw long.

God’s gift of sight rightly used.

“What do you think God is saying through the parable of Susan Boyle?” This was the question I asked a group of pastor-wannabes at a preaching workshop on Saturday morning. I’d just finished laying out the theological argument for a God who speaks through the events of history, and now figured we could apply the idea to a modern day circumstance…

Why is this 47 year old, more than average, Scottish singer’s story resonating so deeply within so many souls? (64 million downloads according to CBC radio this morning!) Obviously the little guy in all of us is vicariously thrilled when an ordinary person is recognized as extraordinary. It’s the typical underdog myth retold; Cinderella in a Scottish… village frock, a butterfly breaking out of her chrysalis.

And that song, I Dreamed a Dream from Les Miserables; surely it is the perfect soundtrack for this contemporary fairy tale. Originally it was sung by the despairing character Fantine as she realized that her life had fallen sadly short; and that her dreams would not be coming true. To a great extent, this is the lamenting lyric of all of our lives. Things are not the way they fully could or should be.

When I asked those pastors in training the question, one responded, “This is about God using the weak to shame the strong.” (referencing St. Paul in 1 Corinthians 1:27 – “But God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong.”) We were all so wise as we pre-judged Susan Boyle, as we pre-judge all those other losers and outsiders that surround our lives, as we – ironically and insecurely – even pre-judge our very selves. Come on, we all felt it; first the judging, then the shame.

But then we felt something more. I hate to admit it, but I’ve watched this thing six times now, and each time I find myself brought to tears. I full-on wept the first time I experienced the video! Why?

Over the past week I’ve been catching bits of Susan Boyle’s back story. Single, never been kissed, bullied as a child, for many years she cared for her recently deceased mother, and really not much of a life story (from a worldly point of view) beyond that. It was the bullying comment that got me thinking though; thinking about the idea of belonging.

I think the Parable of Susan Boyle is a parable of belonging. Here we have the consummate outsider suddenly becoming the biggest insider imaginable, all in one miraculous fell-swoop. The grace of this transformation is astonishing. One of the most ‘insignificant’ people on the planet now one of the most significant! Susan Boyle is arguably the most popular person on earth today. The girl who was relationally locked into the grade school closet is now the home coming queen. The person who belonged least now belonging the most.

So what is God saying though this global home coming phenomenon. I think he’s saying, “You are meant to belong. Only in a much greater way than this little parable communicates. You are meant to belong to me… and the sense of belonging that Susan Boyle now feels is nothing in comparison to that!”

Perhaps, through this parable, God is reminding us of who we are; as both shameful judges and future recipients of glory.

The barrenness of the frozen reservoir captured my imagination today. There was just something about its emptiness; its stark and expansive loneliness. The thought hit me that only vast and vacant spaces can hold and reflect great and immense things.

There’s something about how emptiness yearns to be filled. The mystery of its nothingness calls out in a way, it asks; beckons. And it seems to have room for something significant. It has space.

I’ve always thought that it would take the enormity of a universe to begin to adequately hold and reflect the nature and being of God. Anything smaller just couldn’t come close. And universes are filled with emptiness, anti-matter and blackness aren’t they? Perhaps only something this empty could begin to be filled with the presence of God. Omnipotence and omnipresence couldn’t fit anywhere else.

It just made me smile, taking in all that empty space.