Pastor John Van Sloten

I went for a hot walk in the Weaselhead Conservation area this afternoon. It was a purplearama, reminding me of Alice Walker’s words, “I think it pisses God off if you walk by the color purple in a field somewhere and don’t notice…”

It felt good to take a break, let the brain go into alpha mode for a while, and not piss God off. Lately every bit of free time that I’ve had has gone into the book…

amazing how much time and energy it takes. Last Tuesday I was writing for the day, and by 2:00 pm realized that I’ve pretty much got a first draft done – what Ann Lamott calls a ‘shitty first draft,’ but a draft none the less. It sort of caught me off guard. Fran read it and thought is was pretty good. She said that its a lot heavier than a Rob Bell or Brian McLaren book, which surprised me a bit. She said that at points she thought, “Who thinks this way?” (I’m sure she meant that positively!) Lots of editing to now do, plus there’s one chapter that she says is way too long and complicated (the chapter on discernment). I may have to cut it back significantly and save it for book #2. Another publisher also got back to me today as well, she wants to see the proposal. I’m talking with a recommended agent on Thursday for the first time. We’ll see how that goes.

Walking in the sun in the mid-afternoon heat brough back all kinds of feelings and memories. At several moments – once while being escorted down the path by two butterflies, and then later when the wind was blowing the grass in just the right way – I found myself transported back to a time when I was a young boy, aimlessly walking through summer fields. Ever had that happen? It’s like timelessness takes over for just a second, and its quite heavenly.

A restful, centering gift.

“The trees are coming into leaf. Like something almost being said.”

Philip Larkin, “The Trees”

When I first read these words my heart leapt. I’d just finished reading a chapter in Denis Donoghue’s ‘On Eloquence’ – an incredibly dense book that I can barely understand – and then this coming-alive quote presents itself. And I’m moved because I’m applying the words in a different context than the author is intending. Donoghue is presenting them as another instance of eloquence in writing, in language, in words. This is an example of a way of writing that gives expression beyond formulation and meaning of mere words. In fact, the words don’t really even matter in comparison to what they evoke – in this particular case the almost-being-said-ness of certain circumstances…

Already, in an earlier chapter, Donoghue had opened my perceptions to the idea of words in certain eloquent books – in poems – that are put together in such a way that they actually say more than simple words or phrases can. There’s a bigger thing being said; bigger than language can convey. The concept is a bit too much to get into here, but the idea of a greater meaning, mystically available in behind, before, above the text is holy illumining to me.

I know he’s speaking about eloquence in writing, but I keep applying these ideas to the Writer’s Words. The way eloquent literature can do what it does is illustrative of the way God speaks what he says – through things like language, art, current events, whatever. The language and art and current events and whatever do matter, but the larger matter is what’s communicated in behind, before and above the text.

And all I keep thinking is that God has to be the most eloquent speaker and writer. Therefore all of his words must have these kinds of eloquent effects… like a something-almost-being-said-ness.

The infant Jesus must have carried this something-almost-being-said-ness. Even before coming into bloom – literally and otherwise – Christ was filled with all kinds of parabolic potential, with all kinds of green hope, even with an unimaginable future fall into death. Jesus’ parables carry a similar type of tangential greatness; he said real words put together in real stories, but a bigger, more eloquent, message came through as well. They had a here-and-now meaning to them, and that was profound, but the there-seems-to-be-something-more-there-ness of his parables must have been palpable; is palpable! It’s like they open a door to something even greater, a kingdom not of this world, a future reality that we sense is there, and is just about to break through.

God built this potentiality into Jesus’ parable stories, and into each and every springing bud, in each and every tree, on each and every street and in each an every forest on this planet. “The trees are coming into leaf. Like something almost being said… The Kingdom of God is near…”

I was reading the Hebrew prophet Isaiah this morning and saw something new; more biblical affirmation that we’re on the right track with the creational revelation vision of our church. What caught my eye was the way prophecy works/worked in the scriptures; it always had both a ‘there and then’ application as well as a future application. The words of the seer were both “forthtelling and foretelling,” as Dr. Leggatt said back in seminary. In Isaiah 7, the following familiar words…

“Therefore the Lord himself will give you a sign: The virgin will be with child and will give birth to a son, and will call him Immanuel. He will eat curds and honey when he knows enough to reject the wrong and choose the right. But before the boy knows enough to reject the wrong and choose the right, the land of the two kings you dread will be laid waste.” Isaiah 7:14-17, NIV

Most Christians understand the future oriented meaning of Isaiah’s words… a sign…virgin birth… it’s hard to miss. But few may fully understand that these words were first spoken to a ‘then and there’ king who was surrounded by his enemies and looking for some kind of hope. Read the passage; before the boy is 12 years old, the enemy kings will be laid waste.

Anyway, this is the application I’m seeing for us. When God speaks, his word has a timeless, eternal weight and significance. Its truth may have one application for one time, and another for another. A hopeful virgin birth sign might mean one thing to a Hebrew king in 800 AD, and another thing to a billion Christians in 2008. Both are significant, although it would be hard to argue that the one application did get a bit more historical traction.

So then, there’s precedent for God speaking truth into real life, everyday circumstances – truth that looks like ordinary, then and there truth – that may have far greater significance than what first appears (and may in fact have application way beyond the apparent and visible context).

Hmmmm….