One: The Supreme Power of Humility
Grandpa scared me. He drank beer and constantly smoked White Owl New Yorker cigars which he kept in the front pocket of his overalls. And Grandpa said all the words I wasn’t supposed to say, including the worst of all: “God damn,.” I’d been told that this phrase was the definition of “taking God’s name in vain,” which I now understand to be something far more subtle. But if you ever do spend some time in “hell,” you may discover that it’s filled with broken farm equipment from central Nebraska. I heard him say it time and time again. “This tractor... God damn it to hell; God damn it to hell—these damn irrigation pipes.” I thought: “Grandpa is going to hell.... and no one seems to care.” I honestly did not know what to do with Grandpa, but he seemed to always know what to do with me. In the summers when we’d stay at the farm on family vacation, in the morning or at bedtime, Grandpa would say, “Peter, you get in here, crawl up into bed with me and Grandma and let me give you a squeeze.” He’d pull me into his “kolpos” (in Greek), his “bosom” (in English), and hug me so tight that I’d say “Grandpa, I can’t breathe.” He’d say something like, “Ah hell, you’re just fine,” and squeeze me even tighter until Grandma would say something like, “Ralph, let Peter go to bed.” I honestly didn’t know what Grandpa saw in me: the neurotic preacher’s kid from the “big city.” Many years later (1978, I believe), Grandma had died and Grandpa was staying with us in Colorado recovering from a broken hip. I was now going to Young Life and youth group and had recently re-dedicated my life to the Lord. And, I felt the need to save Grandpa from God . . . our Father. I knocked on his bedroom door. He was sitting on the side of the bed, his dentures in the front pocket of his overalls, a cigar in his mouth, playing Solitaire on a TV tray. He listened to my reasoned presentation, followed by its logical implication: He needed to make a decision to save himself from the decision (Judgment) of God our Father. Surprisingly, he listened most intently, took a breath, and said, “Ah hell, Peter. The Presbyterians say one God damned thing, the Methodists say another damn thing, and the Baptists another, and then they fight over it.” And I didn’t know what to say. I had read enough of my Bible to realize that Jesus agreed with Grandpa. In John 17, God the Son (from the “bosom of the Father”), speaks to God the Father. “Holy Father, keep them (the twelve) in your name, which you have given me, that they may be one, even as we are one... I do not ask for these only, but also for those who will believe in me through their word, that all [pas: everyone] might be one, just as you, Father, are in me, and I in you, that they also may be in us, so that the world [cosmos] may believe that you have sent me (vs. 11, 20-21).” If Jesus is praying “in Jesus’ name,” then it would appear that their will be a “oneness” in the twelve that would be so appealing that all people would see it, want to enter it, and all creation would be transformed..., as if the New Jerusalem were coming down, and so “all creation will be set free from its bondage to decay and obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God.” “Make them one as we are one,” prayed Jesus. And he was praying for Grandpa. Oneness is what we all want. It’s why Nazis wear uniforms, march in uniform, and scapegoat Jews. It’s why people get drunk together — to lose themselves and find themselves in another. It’s why people hang out in the red-light district. We all want to belong, for “it’s not good for Adam to be alone”; it’s evil. And yet, saving ourselves from aloneness in the wrong way is even more aloneness, evil, and damnation later on. Oneness: It’s what we all want more than anything, and yet it’s the very thing that terrifies us more than everything or anyone. It all reminds me of “The Borg” (on Star Trek). The Borg is a giant alien cybernetic organism that possesses other life forms, dissolving all individual distinctives into itself. And that is seductive because individual distinctives can be quite a burden. You yourself, “Me-sus,” can be quite a burden, but the Borg is what I call “We-sus” — not “Me is salvation” but “We are salvation.” We-sus constantly tempts Me-sus, saying, “We will help you save yourself; we will help you be self-centered; if you only belong to We-sus, you won’t need Jesus. In fact, you can hide from Jesus in We-sus, which is us — we are the crowd, the Americans, the Iranians, the Republicans, the Democrats, the Presbyterians, the Methodists, and the Baptists. Paul referred to We-sus as “the Principalities and Powers of this World.” John saw We-sus in the Revelation; I think he called it “The Beast.” According to Scripture, we’re all born into “the Borg.” It’s John who writes, “The entire world is under the power of the Evil One.” That means that people think they’re free because the Borg tells them they’re free, and people think they love because the Borg tells them that they love. “On Earth, this desire is often called ‘love.’ In hell, I feign that they recognize it as hunger,” writes C.S. Lewis. “There I suggest the stronger spirit can permanently gorge its own being on the weaker’s outraged individuality... This, I surmise, is the only imitation [satan] can understand, of that unfathomed bounty whereby God turns tools into servants and servants into sons, so that they may be at last reunited to Him in the perfect freedom of a love offered from the height of the utter individualities which he has liberated them to be.” Jesus prayed, “Make them one as we are one.” So how is God One? In 312 A.D., Emperor Constantine converted and asked this very question. In 325 A.D., he convened the Council of Nicaea, which eventually produced the Nicene Creed and what is now known of as “The Doctrine of the Trinity.” I think the Creed is beautiful, true, and profound — but it’s not Scripture. And what do you do with people who don’t agree? Constantine knew. Because we thought we knew how God is one, we experienced our first “official” division... followed by more and more creeds until “The Presbyterians said one damn thing, the Methodists another, and the Baptists another,” and we’re still fighting over it. Jesus prayed, “Keep them in your name.” When Yahweh declares His name to Moses hidden in the cleft of the Rock, He says, “Yahweh, a God merciful and gracious... forgiving iniquity and sin, but who will by no means clear the guilty.” I think that’s impossible to believe without the realization that God is constant forgiveness and that unforgiveness is the unforgiveable sin. On the Sixth Day of Creation, God (Elohim, also translated “gods”) said, “Let us make man in our own image.” So “in the image of Elohim he created him; male and female he created them” (Genesis 1:26-27). “Therefore a man shall leave his father and mother and hold fast to his wife and they shall become one flesh” (Genesis 2:24). God is one like husband and wife are to be one and a human body is one. “This mystery is a profound one,” writes Paul. “It refers to Christ and his Church.” That fills some with hope and others with terror. This longing for communion is our deepest desire and deepest terror, for we were each made for God and yet have been violated by the Borg. I think I know what Grandpa saw in me: himself, before he’d been violated by the Borg. It’s what I see in my one-year-old grandson, James. We all want just a smile and, hopefully, a hug from James, for we know it doesn’t come from the Borg but from the James that God has created — not his fig leaves, shame and fear. James isn’t quite old enough to know how to impress any of us, and so he’s free to enjoy all of us . . . if he wants to; he’s capable of a little love in freedom. Maybe that’s how God is one. He doesn’t have to be; He wants to be one — two or three (or more) but One. He wants to be, and He is, LOVE. Love is never less and always more. A chicken leg isn’t less a chicken leg for being attached to a chicken; I’m not less of a man for making love to my bride; you’re not less a person for losing yourself and finding yourself in Jesus — the Logos (logic) of LOVE. Jesus keeps praying, “I in them and you in me, in order that they might be having been perfected into one that the world may know that you sent me and loved them even as you loved me... I made known to them your name, and I will continue to make it known, that the love with which you have loved me may be in them and I in them” (John 17:23,26). We’ve been asking, “How is God three in one?” Perhaps we need to also ask, “How is God one in billions upon billions of ‘persons’?” The Father is in Jesus. And He just prayed, “I in them.” How does He get into them? “The first Adam became a living soul; that Last Adam became a life-giving spirit,” wrote Paul. Jesus crossed the river of Lamb’s blood, entered a garden, then on a tree in a garden He delivered up His Spirit. On that tree and at this table He is enthroned. He is not the Borg, a lion seeking someone to devour (That’s satan). He is the Lion of the tribe of Judah, AND he is the Lamb. He is absolute Power and Supreme Humility. When you see Him as He is, you will never see anyone or talk to anyone, including your grandpa, in the same way ever again. Now I know what I wish I would’ve said to my Grandpa when he said, “Ah hell, Peter. They all say a different God-damned thing, and then they argue about it.” I wish I would’ve said, “I’m sorry Grandpa... I wish you would’ve seen Presbyterians, Methodists, and Baptists fight about all sorts of damned things but then forgive each other all sorts of damn things and start sharing all things together in common — actually enjoy each other in all things, kind of like you and your friends at the bar in North Loop, Nebraska. But you didn’t see that, and I’m sorry. ” “I’m also sorry for my awkward ‘presentation’ just now. I’m just thinking that you might actually see God face to face, and pretty soon. And when you do, it’s bound to scare the crap out of you. I think He’s pretty different than me and you, and yet, I think He’s also an awful lot like you . . . Grandpa.” “Do you remember when I was little and you always wanted to hug me? I don’t think that was just you, Grandpa; that was God in you. And I think God has always wanted to hug you like you used to hug me. I hope you let Him. He’ll hug the hell out of you and all of Heaven right into you.” I wish I would’ve said that, but I didn’t. Grandpa died soon after. But don’t worry about Grandpa. God is not dependent on Presbyterians, Methodists, Baptists, or me. And I did love Grandpa and Jesus, at least a little bit. And nothing is more powerful, or humble, than Love. God is Love. LOVE is never in vain.