Sublime Wonder
From an early age, I began developing a theology focused on the wretchedness of humanity. Pastors preached of depravity, the Donut Man sang of the “holes in the middle of our hearts,” kids' stories were cautionary tales of children disobeying their parents because of sin natures. An emphasis was placed on the sin, the wretch, the Judases and Prodigal Sons. We often sang “Amazing Grace” (God “saved a wretch like me”), but rarely touched on Zephaniah (“He delights you with his songs”) or the Psalms (“He rescued me because he delighted in me”), the Creation account, or the deep, deep love of Jesus. Segments of evangelical culture focused more on the wretch than the divine image we bear.
We tend towards self-loathing rather than gratitude and love for the very creation God called good. This God formed oceans and land masses, magnificent mountains, glorious waterfalls, oases, plains, galaxies, and bright, exploding stars; divine hands created an inestimable number of creatures from microscopic to gigantic with various levels of intellect and instinct. And then formed a special creature, different from the rest, because this creature mirrored the Creator, a human split in two. And God called it, them, very good.
I’ve struggled my whole life seeing the good in myself, to recognize beauty, identify purpose. And I think a large part of the struggle stems from this mindset of internal wretchedness. After all, John the Baptist said, “He must increase, and I must decrease” — a quote many evangelicals tend to reference more than the countless verses and chapters testifying the love of God for every human soul. There must be a better way to balance sin and goodness, to recognize “wretch” is not an absolute identity, to view the world through the lens of a Creator God who sings over, rescues, delights, and meets us in the throes of doubt and disbelief.
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This God fulfilled a promise to Abraham (who struggled and doubted, disobeyed, lied, used and abused), recognized Sarah in her old age and gave her a son (even in her lying, doubting, and disbelieving), met Hagar in the wilderness (though she was foreign, enslaved, impregnated with a child, thrown out and forgotten).
Hagar is often read as a blip, a misnomer, an insignificant character. But her story is not insignificant. This foreign worshipper-of-other-gods is remembered by the Hebrew God, given a glimpse, met in her despair. And she gives this God a name: El Roi, The-God-Who-Sees-Me.
The Pharisees and followers were appalled by “the town harlot” touching, washing, crying over the feet of their Rabbi, but Jesus said, “your faith has saved you.” Society viewed the harlot as a wretch, Jesus uplifted, forgave, blessed her.
In seeing, he does not forget.
In creating, he does not abhor.
In imprinting, he does not disdain.
In forgiving, he does not condemn.
Psalm 139 is a poetic reminder of the far-reaching arms of God. Wherever we are, in our believing, in our doubting, in our straying, and our turning, there is no escaping the Spirit. “If I settle on the far side of the sea, EVEN THERE your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast.”
God seeks us out, calls to us, encircles us in arms like a mother hen. He is love, a truth often buried beneath the messages of depravity. But the God who remembered Hagar, though she did not know him, is the same God who formed our sacred beings, who loves us though we stray and struggle.
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In “God in Search of Man,” Abraham Joshua Heschel writes, “The surest way to suppress our ability to understand the meaning of God and the importance of worship is to take things for granted. Indifference to the sublime wonder of living is the root of sin.”
I think we’re often guilty of indifference to the wonder of humanity; we take one another for granted, fixating on the sin and omitting the love of God that “will not let us go.” We’re quick to condemn and slow to speak into the beauty embedded within one another.
An artist creates out of love for the created. Artist Makoto Fujimura writes of our invitation to co-create, co-labor, and care (steward) culture and creation, action done out of love (not disdain) for the world. A God who invites us to create in unison is one who sees the goodness in his creation, in us.
It is an invitation born from a love we cannot fathom.
Loving and Savoring:
Local Dirt by Andrea Bemis — I ordered this cookbook at the start of the summer and it’s quickly become one of my favorite resources for seasonal cooking. I’ve already made Andrea’s homemade Caesar dressing a few times, and several of her summer salad and pasta recipes, which are all simple, light, and refreshing.
Monk Manual — I’ve only had the Monk Manual for a week now, but I can tell this is the planner I’ve been looking for. I love the simplicity of it, the space for creating habits and goals in small steps and short increments.
The Holy Post “Jesus and John Wayne” Podcast Series — In this four part series, Sky Jethani interviews author Kristin Kobes Du Mez about her book, “Jesus and John Wayne,” and the history surrounding the rise of Christian nationalism and white evangelicalism. I highly recommend these episodes, especially if you haven’t read the book yet (which is excellent).