The Kingdom of Heaven doesn't always seem that great.
If Jesus ushered it in, drew it near to us with his very life, sometimes it is difficult to grasp why it is so unspectacular.
I account for this in a lot of ways:
a) God is humble. It is this very unseemly part of his character that rubs me the wrong way. I like blasting my way through, showing off my superior marksmanship and dazzling feats of cultural bravado. His humility makes me look downright stupid. His kingdom is humble, too. Apparently, keeping me entertained isn't one of its house rules.
b) Kingdoms are expansive, not personal. The Kingdom of Heaven demands more in contribution than it pays out in benefit. Thats what a Kingdom does: stretching out authority over a large community of people. The bad news is that there are no idols to the individual in a Kingdom. The good news is that spreading the authority over everyone means that every one matters.
c) I am the Kink.* Because the Kingdom is contributive as well as experiential, present as well as future, I matter to it, at least as far as I view it. There is a part of me that I try to withhold from God. There is treasure I won't store here, words I won't put here, hope I won't place here.** If it could be done, I rob heaven of its potential.
*And not in the rockin' good Davies brothers kind of Kink.
**Please note that I write "here" and not "there" because that is what we mean when we talk about the Kingdom of God. It isn't some cloud fairyland on a far distant shore in outer space. It is, at least in portion, here. Now. Look it up.
Monday, April 28, 2008
The Kinks in Christ's Kingdom
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1 comment:
Awesome. I always knew that if I set my mind to it, I would attract the world's finest spam.
I had no idea it would involve Sylvia Plath. Although I do have to mention that this poem is fully protected by copyright and may not be reproduced in any form without permission of the Plath estate. So, uh, not exactly unpublished, not exactly legal for you to reproduce on my site.
So, alas and alack! I must delete your stunning achievement in spam. [For those remaining spammers wanting to read the spam poetry, look up Ennui, by Sylvia Plath]
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