Here is the New There

I love tuning forks.

I seriously do.

During my brief time at Radford University, I belonged to A Cappella groups that would perform in public places, most of which didn't warrant the use of a full size pianos to get our starting notes. So we brought tuning forks. If you don't know what they are, google it. Go ahead ... I'll wait.

In the movie Tin Cup, Kevin Costner's character says that a well-hit golf shot is like a tuning fork going off in your loins. And it's a funny way to think of golfing, but I know what he means. I've only had 1 or 2 golf shots where I felt the "That's what it's supposed to feel like" after the swing. I've felt it more playing disc golf, where when the driver releases out of your grip off the tee, holds that tight line down the fairway and makes the turn at the perfect moment. It's not a technical moment. It's something you just feel.

You know that feeling?

Reading Chapter 2 of "Love Wins" by Rob Bell, I had one of those moments, but it was the first time I can remember that was a spiritual tuning fork moment. To summarize, if you haven't read the book yet, Chapter 1 deals with the not-so-simple nature of salvation/faith. By the way, this was what I read last time that wouldn't allow me to continue reading. Chapter 1 asks a lot of questions. Chapter 2, on the other hand, begins answering them , starting with the nature of Heaven and how we relate to it.

Rather than paraphrasing, here is a trail of quotations that led to my moment...

"How we think about heaven, then, directly affects how we understand what we do with our days and energies now, in this age." ~p44

"Taking heaven seriously, then, means taking suffering seriously, now. Not because we've bought into the myth that we can create a utopia given enough time, technology, and good voting choices, but because we have great confidence that God has not abandoned human history and is actively at work within it, taking it somewhere." ~p45

"Jesus teaches us to pursue the life of heaven now and also then, anticipating the day when earth and heaven are one.

Honest business,
redemptive art,
honorable law,
sustainable living,
medicine,
education,
making a home,
tending a garden --
they're all sacred tasks to be done in partnership with God now, because they will all go on in the age to come. In heaven, on earth. Our eschatology shapes our ethics. Eschatology is about last things, ethics are about how you live." ~p46

"A proper view of heaven leads not to escape from the world, but to full engagement with it, all with the anticipation of a coming day when things are on earth as they currently are in heaven." ~p47

When I got to the words "They're all sacred tasks", I had to stop reading, because I started sobbing uncontrollably. It wasn't crying. It was deeper than that. It was like a tuning fork being struck in the deepest part of my spirit and resonating "I knew it. Thank God someone said it."

Rachel loves photography, not because of the prestige, but because of the deep belief that she is helping to shape this age (aion) and will change the world using that medium. For her, it is a sacred work with sacred purpose. Because of her perspective, she probably will change the world...

I love tending to people and anything that is alive. When I care for my wife, our dogs, the rose bushes and the lawn, there is a part of me that knows that I'm "about my Father's business." They're each a sacred work; which I sense that I'm partnering with Him every time I do them.

There is something intensely freeing about seeing seemingly secular, mundane, ordinary tasks as sacred tasks. It's a feeling and a heart understanding that I hope I never lose.

For those that can remember the movie Chariots of Fire, it's saying the same thing as what the character Eric Liddell is known for saying: "I believe God made me for a purpose, but He also made me fast. And when I run, I feel His pleasure..."

For all the skeptics, Rob Bell is not saying that Heaven doesn't exist. What he is saying is that Heaven is much more expansive than the current popular tradition of it, which is simply a place away from here that we'll eventually go if we're good enough.