Rocks II

I’ve been picking up rocks of God recently. Turning them over in my mind, cracking them open to see the colors inside, examining them and setting them back down. I keep walking and picking up rocks, rough, cold, smooth, soft to my fingers. And then I set them back down and continue along. And after I set one down, I know there will always be another one to pick up. I will always have something to listen to, to learn from, to ponder, to toss back and forth between my hands, to fill my pockets. I will never be able to pick up all the rocks of God.

The Second Rock:

“Are you a missionary, or are you just studying?”

I am often asked this question in China. And I often find myself stuttering over an answer. Am I a missionary, or am I just studying? Just studying? Or? Missionary? What do these words mean? Why does the question imply that I can’t do both?

The answer lies in the separation of the “secular” and the “spiritual.”

(I would be very interested to see someone dissect Jesus’ life into “spiritual” and “secular” components.)

For quite a long time, Christians have been spreading the Gospel of Salvation. Many things could be said about this Gospel, both good and bad, but for my purposes here I will simply note its existence and its tendency to separate life into spiritual and secular. Usually, physical things like the earth and the flesh and chocolate and dead dogs fall into the basket of “secular.” Anything that doesn’t have a shape or a taste or a smell, basically, anything invisible, falls into the “spiritual” and therefore more important basket. So basically we have these two baskets, and one of them, the one with the entirety of creation inside (minus any sort of soul), is declared unimportant and set in the corner to await its fiery demise.

Hm.

Well at this moment, I am more concerned with a new (old) Gospel that is emerging in the heart of the global Church. The Gospel of the Kingdom.

The Gospel of the Kingdom focuses on the idea that the Kingdom of Heaven has come and is coming to earth in a physical, earthy sort of way. It is not merely concerned with “converts” or “salvations” or “saving souls.” It is concerned with bringing light and good and truth to earth in this lifetime, today, joining in God’s redemption plan for all of creation. Here, now.

Basically, the Gospel of the Kingdom infers that everything we plant, work for, build up, tear down, foster, destroy—everything we do, matters.

I’ve been reading Romans, and James, and other snippets here and there, and I’ve noticed that good, true, light, and pure things apparently come from God. I’ve read my way through the Garden of Eden, and through Jesus’ life (which he spent healing and teaching and feeding, three very physical acts of service) and through Jesus’ death and resurrection (a very physical resurrection, by the way), and through words about the end times, and I’ve noticed a recurring message of restoration, purification, and redemption dappled throughout the pages of these stories. It’s almost as if the nonspiritual basket, the one with sunsets and poodles inside, had significance.

I’ve prayed, and discussed, and thought, and written, and tasted physical foods like watermelon and cookie dough that must somehow make it into the “spiritual” basket (oh please oh please oh please), and I’ve come to the realization that God “saw that it was good.” It being a vague qualifier for almost any noun. Noun insinuating some sort of person, place, thing, animal, vegetable, or mineral—basically anything physical.

God saw that the physical things He had made were good. And then something happened in the Garden that brought pain and brokenness into the world, and then God set about rescuing and redeeming all of us by sending perhaps the ultimate good Thing, His Son Jesus, to live physically, die physically, and then be physically resurrected. Essentially, if Adam set the destruction process for all good things in motion, then Jesus set the redemption process for all good things in motion.

And so we are here, now, with the job of joining and spurring along that redemption process in the hope that all good things will be resurrected in the end.

All good things will be resurrected in the end.

An idea which lends a certain focus for our lives, our relationships, our careers, our hobbies, our politics, our gardening talents—all of which, it turns out, matter very much. And suppose the inverse is also true. If all good things will be resurrected in the end, then accordingly, all bad things will be destroyed in the end. An idea which also lends a certain focus for our lives. Knowing that evil things, that dark things, that broken things, that death-bringing things will be destroyed ultimately, and knowing that all good things will be resurrected, perhaps we would pursue more of the good and set the bad in a basket in the corner to await its fiery demise.

And perhaps, who knows? This last bit here is only me writing and thinking, pondering and wondering. I am not trying to pretend what I am about to write is unflawed. However, I am thinking it so I will write it: Perhaps, if these two ideas are true, then we ought to be filling our own lives and our own souls with good things, rather than bad things, so that we will remain even after all bad things are destroyed. If I am a basket and you are a basket, and we fill our baskets only with things that produce death, brokenness, hate, and pain, what will be left when those things do not resurrect with the risen Christ?