The Waking Dreamer: Light

Showing posts with label Light. Show all posts

Wednesday, January 14, 2026

The Light Keeps Shining

John 1:1-18[1]

I’m pretty sure that most of us no longer remember what it’s like to light a candle to bring light into a dark room. We use candles these days more for decoration, or the fragrance, or simply the “presence” of a light on a dark night. I’ve grown up entirely with “artificial” lighting in my home. I don’t remember a time when I didn’t have artificial lighting in my home. The only time I ever used candles for lighting was when we had hurricanes or other storms that knocked out our electricity. Some of you may still use candles for that, but most of us don’t even use candles for “emergency” light anymore. Instead, we buy battery-powered lamps that are much brighter. We use candles for decoration. We use electricity for lighting, and even a relatively dim 60-watt bulb is the equivalent of 60 to 70 candles. And we typically have much brighter lighting going in our houses. We have flashlights on our phones that may overpower a single candle, and even the light from the screens we have going constantly can be brighter than a candle. I have a handheld flashlight that can be positively blinding! Some of you may as well. I’m pretty sure we don’t view a single candle as a source of light any longer.

By contrast, the whole Bible was written in a time when there was no artificial lighting. Candles and oil lamps were the sources of light. There were no street lamps, and none of the lighting they had was “instant,” like the flip of a switch or the push of a button. You had to actually “light” a candle or a lamp. And not with a device that you “clicked” on and off. Not with a match that could took from a box and could simply strike to light it. I think it’s hard for some of us to relate to a world not filled with artificial light. We’re so dependent on flipping a switch or pushing a button and having instant light. I would say that we may not be entirely comfortable with that kind of darkness—real darkness. The darkness you experience when you’re off in the wilderness. Some people can enjoy it. The light of a campfire in the wilderness, or the light of the stars and the moon on a clear night, can be mesmerizing. But for some of us that kind of darkness can feel oppressive, or depressing, or even frightening.

John’s Gospel presents the good news of Jesus Christ in terms of light shining in the darkness. Not only do I think that we have difficulty appreciating the light, we may a hard time grasping the darkness of our world. There is much that makes this a truly wonderful world, but we also live in a world full of darkness. We’re surrounded by it—violence in our schools, poverty that reduces working people to living in their cars, and racism that sparks hate crimes against people of color and of different faiths. But the darkness can be within as well. Many live in constant fear. They struggle with loneliness, depression, and even despair. They carry wounds and burdens inside them that the rest of us don’t normally see. Then there’s the darkness that exists in our world on a broader scale, from the corruption of greed to the destruction of warfare. We live in a world that can feel very dark indeed at times.

The good news of our Gospel reading for today is that Jesus came into this world as light. The light that he brings is called “life” in John’s Gospel, and it’s for everyone (Jn. 1:4). John’s Gospel wasn’t talking about “life” in terms of everyday, walking around, living-and-breathing life. The point was that Jesus came to bring a different quality of living. Rather than living in the darkness of fear or greed or hatred, Jesus came to bring a quality of living defined by God’s “grace and truth” (Jn. 1:14). God’s “truth” calls us to a life defined by love—the love Jesus demonstrated by giving his life for us all. God’s “grace” assures us that there’s nothing we can do to make God love us more and there’s nothing we can do to make God love us less. This grace and truth together offer us a quality of living that shines like a light in the darkness because when we know that God accepts us, we not only accept ourselves, but we can also accept others. That can be real light in this world for a lot of people. It can change our whole outlook on life!

The phrase in this passage that sticks in my mind is the one that says, “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it” (Jn. 1:5). There are some difficulties with this verse, including even how to translate it. Some of the older versions say, “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not comprehend it.”[2] But I think the more pressing problem we have to deal with is that Jesus, the light of the world, was brutally executed on a Roman cross. Despite our faith that Jesus was raised from the dead and lives even now, some still today would say that the light of God’s grace and truth and love that Jesus brought into this world has been extinguished by the overwhelming power of darkness in our world. At least there are some people who feel like the darkness has “put out” that light. They have a hard time seeing the “light” in their lives. They have a hard time seeing that the “light” makes any difference for them. I think those whose lives have been “overcome” by darkness may have difficulty putting their faith in Jesus as the “light of the world.”

But you don’t have to have been totally overcome by the darkness in this world to have known its effect in your life. I would say that most of us here today have experienced some form of “darkness” in our lives. Whether it’s the greed that may deprive us of home or career, or the fear that violence in its many forms can instill, or the anger and even hatred we may feel toward others, whether it’s any kind of mistreatment we’ve experienced, most of us have known the power of darkness in this world. I don’t think the promise of the gospel here is that we will never have to suffer from the power of darkness in our world. The promise is that the darkness, however powerful it may be, does not overcome the light. I like the way the Good News Bible says it: “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has never put it out.”

However dark this world may feel to us, however dark our lives in this world may feel, the good news of the Gospel of Jesus Christ is that the light of God’s grace and truth and love in Jesus Christ always shines, and the darkness has never put it out. I also like the way our version for today, the Contemporary English Version, puts it: “The light keeps shining in the dark, and darkness has never put it out.” The faith, hope, and love that God’s love in Jesus brought into this world live still in our hearts, no matter what we have had to endure. “The light keeps shining in the dark, and darkness has never put it out.” The quality of living that Jesus brought to us through God’s love is like a candle that gives its light to all in darkness, and it’s a light that never goes out. But it’s a different kind of light than what were used to. It’s like candlelight. Candle light is soft, gentle, and reassuring. We may have to look harder for it in the midst of all the other sources of so-called “light” in our world. But the light of God’s grace and truth and love is there, a light shining in the darkness. “The light keeps shining in the dark, and darkness has never put it out.” And that light will keep shining in our world until there is no more darkness. And the darkness will never put it out!

[2] For example, the King James, New King James, and New American Standard versions.

Born That Man No More May Die

Hebrews 2:10-18[1]

On Christmas Eve, we talked about how the light of God’s love shines in the darkness. And, as Henri Nouwen reminded us, “a little bit of light can dispel a lot of darkness.” For many of us, there’s no darkness we fear more than death. It’s the ultimate unknown. I realize that when we are young, death may seem remote and almost unreal. Until someone your age passes away. I had that happen to me when I was in college. Or perhaps a close family member whom you loved. Then the stark reality hits you. And when it does, most of us are unprepared for the fear that grips us. In response to that fear, we in this culture seem obsessed with keeping death as far away from us as possible. In days of old, people would die at home, and the family would care for their body. Now all of that is removed from our presence. And perhaps for good reason—there seems to be no logic, no rhyme or reason to the way the “grim reaper” takes its victims. Our inability to make any sense out of death only increases our fear.

But our New Testament lesson for today presents us with the good news that, because we bear this burden of mortality, Jesus also came as one of us, made of flesh and blood. He came not only to God’s unfailing love and continual presence with us, but he also came specifically bearing our mortality so that he could die as one of us. And the purpose of his death was to “free those who all their lives were held in slavery by the fear of death” (Heb. 2:15). Though the Scripture text doesn’t spell out precisely how it is that he sets us free from the fear of death, the New Testament elsewhere reminds us that Jesus didn’t just come to die, but also to be raised from the dead, and by doing so to triumph over all the powers of darkness in this world, most importantly death.

Part of the purpose of his coming in the vulnerability of our flesh and blood was to demonstrate that our God is not so high and exalted as to be unconcerned with or unmoved by our burdens. There have been many who have believed that throughout the ages. Some of our “founding fathers” in this country believed God was like a clockmaker who made the clock, wound it up and let it go. It’s a belief system called “Deism.” They believed that God created the world, stood back, and lets it go on its way, but doesn’t get involved. On the contrary, the “gospel of Christmas” is that, by entering our broken and confusing existence as Immanuel, “God-who-is-with-us,” Jesus took all the burdens that we bear on himself. And so he made it clear that God is not the cold and distant deity whom some people have cringed before, and at times even hated. Rather, God is the one who loves us so much that, as we say in one of our confessions of faith, Jesus died to show us God’s love as “a love that is ready to suffer for our sakes.”[2]

That may seem like a strange thing to say about God. It was the conclusion Dietrich Bonhoeffer came to as he sat in his cell in a Nazi prison camp. He said, “God lets himself be pushed out of the world on to the cross. He is weak and powerless in the world, and that is precisely the way, the only way, in which he is with us and helps us. … only the suffering God can help.” I think Bonhoeffer knew whereof he spoke. It would not be long before he would lose his life at the hands of the Nazis. Our lesson for today puts it this way: “Because Jesus himself was tested by what he suffered, he is able to help those who are being tested” (Heb. 2:18).

But that really is the question, isn’t it? Can a God who is vulnerable enough to enter our brokenness really be powerful enough to do something about it? Wouldn’t it seem that a God who is able to suffer with us is a God who is just as impotent as we are in the face of our suffering and ultimately our experience of death? In fact, that has been what some have concluded: God loves us, and God suffers with us, but at the end of the day, that’s about all God can do for us. If that’s the case, I’m not sure many would conclude that a “suffering God” is “able to help” us at all.

Others are unwilling to relegate God (and us) to such a helpless state in which our experience with death leaves us with a mystery of suffering that we cannot solve by any means. So they insist that though our experience of suffering and death may be burdensome to us now, God will ultimately bring good from it. The same confession I cited earlier says, “nothing evil is permitted to occur that God does not bend finally to the good.”[3] And there is some comfort to that. But “finally” or “ultimately” can seem like a very long time. It can seem like a very long time. So what are we to do in the meantime? How does the suffering love of our vulnerable God help us here and now?

Well, for one thing, I think we must not underestimate the power of that love that was poured out at the cross. It may look like the Jesus who dies on the cross was just as weak as any other human being. It may look like God is unable to do anything except suffer the pain of watching his son die. And yet, if we were to conclude that, we would be vastly underestimating the power of God’s love. One of my schoolmates offered a clarification of Bonhoeffer’s famous phrase by saying, “Only the suffering God can help, but it is only the suffering of the God who has greater power than we do over suffering that is able to help.”[4] And God does have greater power than we do over suffering, and so he is able to help.

Yes, love can be vulnerable. It does not retaliate, it does not lash out at those who may in fact take the life of the one who is loved or even the one who offers love. But love always breaks the power of evil. As we say in that same confession of faith, “An abyss of suffering” has been “swallowed up by the suffering of divine love.”[5] All the death, all the pain, all the fear that we can experience in this life, God has swallowed up into the suffering of his own love for us. Love always wins the day, no matter how long it takes to get to “ultimately.” And that is all the more certain with God’s love! God’s love most certainly wins the day.

But there is more to it than that. Although our lesson doesn’t mention it, surely the implication is there: Jesus did not remain in the grave. Death was not powerful enough to hold him. God raised him from the dead, and by so doing he not only vindicated the power of suffering love, but also demonstrated that God does more than “just” suffer with us when we suffer. Rather, as Henri Nouwen reminds us, the resurrection is the demonstration that “God’s light is more real than all the darkness, that God’s truth is more powerful than all human lies, that God’s love is stronger than death.”[6] And so in the vulnerability of Jesus taking on flesh and blood and dying for us all, and in the astonishing power of God raising him to life, we see God’s light overcoming all the darkness, even the darkness of death. And, as the Scripture says, “The light keeps shining in the dark, and darkness has never put it out” (Jn. 1:5, CEV)!

[1] © 2025 Alan Brehm. A sermon delivered by Rev. Alan Brehm PhD on 12/28/2025 for Hickman Presbyterian Church, Hickman, NE. The title, "Born that Man No More May Die" is taken from a verse of the Hymn/Christmas Carol "Hark, the Herald Angels Sing," by Charles Wesley.

[2] The Study Catechism (1998), question 8.

[3] The Study Catechism (1998), question 22.

[4] Steven R. Harmon, “Hebrews 2:10-18,”Interpretation 59 (Oct 2005): 406.

[5] The Study Catechism (1998) question 45.

[6] Henri Nouwen, Here and Now: Living in the Spirit, 32

Monday, August 16, 2021

A Light in Dark Places

Ephesians 5:8-21[1]

We all have times in our lives when we go through what may be called “dark places.” Life takes an unexpected turn, and we may feel lost, or afraid, or unable to go on, or all of the above at the same time. Some of what we have to deal with in life may leave us thinking that we can’t possibly get through it. And those unwanted “surprises” can rob us of hope, joy, energy, and even love. Life can seem like drudgery, and we may feel weary and think that we can’t possibly face even one more day. Many of you know that I’ve been through some of those dark places in my own life. They can drain the very will to live right out of you.

If we have just a glimpse of hope to help us move through those dark places in life, it can make all the difference. We even have a saying about it: “There’s light at the end of the tunnel.” But I think the question today is what we do when we can’t see the end of the tunnel. How do we find a “light” that can give us the hope, the strength, the energy, and the will to keep going? Many of us speak of our faith as something that sustains us in hard times. That’s a good thing. But we usually say that after we’ve made it through. Again, I think the more pressing question is the one we ask ourselves when we can’t see the “light” at the end of the tunnel. We want to know how we’re supposed to make it through another day.

Our lesson from St. Paul’s letter to the church at Ephesus addresses this question, although from a different point of view. His main concern was the moral and ethical darkness in the world as he saw it. At first glance, what he has to say can sound rigid, and even harsh. But we have to remember that Paul was not addressing a church that was an established institution in society. It was a church living on the margins, and how they lived impacted the ability of the community to survive. So he urged them to avoid behaviors that would weaken their community and practice those behaviors that would strengthen it.

Using images from Easter, St. Paul speaks of the living Christ as a light that has shined upon them. He quotes what may have been an early Christian hymn, “Sleeper, awake! Rise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you” (Eph. 5:24). Using the imagery of light, he makes what sounds like an obvious statement: “everything exposed by the light becomes visible” (Eph 5:13). When light shines on what is in the darkness, it reveals what is actually there. But more than that, Paul speaks of the light of Christ as a light that changes things. He also says, “everything that becomes visible is light” (Eph. 5:13-14). I think we have to look beyond the obvious here and recognize that when we open ourselves to the light of Christ, it changes us. It transforms us into people who reflect the light ourselves.

If we look at the positive teachings in our lesson for today, I think they may help us see more clearly what this looks like in practice. We are to “Try to find out what is pleasing to the Lord” (Eph. 5:10). We are to “be careful” how we live, seeking to be wise (Eph. 5:15). We are to “be filled with the Spirit”, which means “singing and making melody to the Lord in your hearts, giving thanks to God the Father at all times and for everything,” and “being subject to one another out of reverence to Christ” (Eph 5:18-21). That last part may raise some eyebrows, but I believe it just means treating others with humility and respect. And the guiding principle behind all of this is found in the appeal to “live as children of light”, which means doing “all that is good and right and true” (Eph. 5:8-9).

You may be wondering how any of this helps when you’re in a dark place and struggling to keep going. For one thing, I think the promise is that no matter where we find ourselves in this life, Jesus Christ is always there with us, shining the light of God’s unfailing love. That can be a light for us in dark places. For another thing, we’re not left to try to do this in our own strength. One of the most important things the Spirit does in our lives is to give us strength to do what we may not have otherwise thought we could do. But finally, many have recognized that learning to practice joy in life, focusing our attention on what we’re grateful for, and treating others with love, kindness, humility, and respect, are all very practical strategies for getting through hard times.

For most of us, the last 18 months have felt like a dark place. The fear, uncertainty, and isolation of the Covid pandemic continue to affect us all deeply. If you’re like me, the news that the local risk dial continues to rise has felt like a gut punch. The very idea of returning to the way things were last year is too much to bear. So I think that St. Paul’s message is a timely one for us all. But if you are skeptical whether the prescription of joy, gratitude, humility, and love can really make a difference for you, I would remind you of the artist known as “Nightbirde.” Many of us have heard her story and been deeply moved by the joy, hope, and courage she displays in the face of overwhelming odds in her battle against cancer. If have, you know that she knows what it’s like to be in a dark place, but you’ve also seen the beautiful light of faith, hope, joy, and love that shines so brightly in her face. I pondered whether to mention her in my sermon, mainly out of respect for her and for you. But I cannot think of a better representative for what it looks like to be transformed by the light of Christ in the dark places we go through. May that light encourage, and strengthen, and guide us all!

Tuesday, January 21, 2020

The Light of Life

Isaiah 42:1-9[1]

Photosynthesis. It’s not a word we use in our daily conversations. But it certainly is a process we rely on daily! In a simplified version, photosynthesis is the process by which plants use sunlight to produce the food that enables them to grow and the oxygen that we breathe. Even young children who have never heard of the word “photosynthesis” see its effects every year as the weather turns warmer, the trees and shrubs and flowers put out green leaves, and the crops grow and produce food. Photosynthesis is what fuels this process. But more than that, this cycle in nature sustains all life on earth! We may not use the word “photosynthesis” very often, but we certainly depend on it!

As important as that fundamental process in nature is to sustaining life, as the Scripture says, “one does not live by bread alone” (Deut. 8:3). It takes more than sunlight, air, water, and food for us to thrive. We need to know that there’s someone who cares about us. More than that we need regular doses of kindness, love, goodness, and mercy from “significant others” in our lives in order to be able to reach our full potential for living. Living in a setting where we feel valued, where we feel empowered, where we have hope for the future; these are essential to our well-being. It seems to me that regular doses of kindness, goodness, mercy, and love enable us to have that sense that life is worth living.

In our lesson from Isaiah for today, this is precisely the mission of the “Servant” of the Lord. This servant is the one whom the Lord has chosen to “bring forth justice to the nations” (Isa. 42:1). I know that “justice” is a word that sounds somewhat harsh to our ears. But the mission of the Lord’s servant was not a harsh one. He would “bring forth justice” through kindness and mercy. The Scripture says it this way: “a bruised reed he will not break, and a dimly burning wick he will not quench” (Isa. 42:3). In The Message translation it says: “He won’t brush aside the bruised and the hurt and he won’t disregard the small and insignificant.”

The kind of justice the Lord’s “servant” was called “bring forth” would mean “opening the eyes that are blind” and “bringing out the prisoners from the dungeon” (Isa. 42:7). I’ve said many times that doesn’t sound very much like our idea of “justice.” But in the Bible, God’s justice is defined in terms of feeding the hungry, freeing the prisoners, restoring sight to the blind, lifting up those who are bowed down, and caring for vulnerable: refugees, widows, and orphans. The kind of “justice” the Lord sent his “servant” to “bring forth” consists of kindness, mercy, and love. It’s intended to enhance the life of all people.

In fact, the Scripture tells us that the Lord had called his “servant” to be a “a light to the nations” (Isa. 42:6). Like the light of the sun brings new life to the world of nature every year, so the work of the Lord’s “servant” was intended to be like shining a light that would bring new life to all people. And, Lord knows that we can all use some light to brighten our world and to renew our sense of fulfillment in life! We oftentimes look in all the wrong places for that “light of life.” Only through the experience of genuine goodness, kindness, mercy, and love can we find the light that truly enhances our lives.

One of the interesting features of the “servant” of the Lord in the book of Isaiah is that it has more than one meaning. In some places, when Isaiah talks about the “servant,” he seems to be referring to himself as a prophet called by God to deliver a message to the people. In other cases, the “servant” seems to be someone who is yet to come, who will bring true justice, peace, and freedom to the oppressed people of God. But in other settings, the “servant” of the Lord is the people of God. They are the ones who are called to bring light to the nations, to make the peace that enables all people to thrive, and to share the mercy of God they have been given so freely.

While we recognize that Jesus fulfilled the role of the Lord’s “servant” in Isaiah in the fullest sense, I think we also have to embrace that fact that we share that calling as the people of God and as disciples of Jesus. We who have experienced the goodness, kindness, mercy, and love of God through Jesus his “servant” are called to share this life-giving light with all those around us. We’re the “servants” of the Lord who are called to enhance the life experience of the people we encounter. We’re the ones who are called to share the “light of life” with those who may be struggling with the darkness of doubt or despair.

When we rise to the call to be “servants” of the Lord, we play a crucial role in God’s work of bringing light to all those who are living in darkness. So many people in our world live in constant fear, unrelenting pain, and deep sadness. They’re plagued by a sense of hopelessness about their lives. It’s as if they are stuck in a perpetually dark winter that literally drains the life out of them. But when we accept the call to be “servants” of the Lord by bringing goodness, kindness, mercy, and love, it’s like we’re bringing the light of the sun back into their lives. And just as the sun brings new life to the natural world every Spring, so we can be God’s “servants” who help bring new life to those who are hurting around us. We can help those who are struggling to feel empowered; we can help them have sense of hope for the future; we can help them regain the confidence that life is worth living. When we shine God’s “light of life” into the lives of hurting and hopeless people all around us, we are acting as the Lord’s “servants,” bringing new life to all people.

Light Drives Out Darkness

John 1:1-18[1]

I’m pretty sure that most of us have lost the ability to appreciate the power of a single candle to bring light into a dark room. We don’t use candles for light anymore. We use them for decoration, or for the fragrance they give. We use electricity for lighting, and even a relatively dim 60-watt bulb is the equivalent of 70 candles. And we typically have much more brighter light going in most rooms of our houses. We have flashlights on our phones that easily overpower a single candle, and there are some spotlights that can be positively blinding! We don’t even use candles for emergencies; instead we buy battery-powered lamps. I’m pretty sure we don’t view a candle as a source of light any longer.

By contrast, all of the Bible was written in a time when there was no artificial lighting. Candles and oil lamps were the only sources of light in the darkness. I think it’s hard for some of us to relate to a world not filled with artificial light. We’re so dependent on flipping a switch and having instant light. I would say that many of us aren’t really comfortable with darkness. It feels oppressive, or depressing, or even frightening. But if you were to turn off all the light bulbs and try sitting in a room lit only with candlelight, you might be surprised at the effect.^{^[2]}

John’s Gospel presents the good news of Jesus Christ in terms of light shining in the darkness. Not only do I think that we have difficult appreciating the light, I think that many of us have a hard time grasping the darkness of our world. But make no mistake about it: we live in a world full of darkness. We’re surrounded by it—violence in our schools, poverty that reduces working people to living in their cars, and racism that sparks hate crimes against people of color and of different faiths. But the darkness is within as well. Many in this community live in constant fear. They struggle with loneliness, depression, and even despair. Then there’s the darkness that exists in our world on a broader scale, from the corruption of greed to the destruction of warfare. We live in a dark world.

The good news of our Gospel reading for today is that Jesus came into this world as light. The light that he brings is called “life,” and it’s for all people (Jn. 1:4). John’s Gospel wasn’t talking about “life” in terms of everyday, walking around, living-and-breathing life. The point was that Jesus came to bring a different quality of living. Rather than living in the darkness of fear and greed and hatred, Jesus came to bring a quality of living defined by God’s grace and truth (Jn. 1:14). God’s truth calls us to a life defined by love—the love Jesus demonstrated by giving his life for us all. God’s grace assures us that there’s nothing we can do to make God love us more and there’s nothing we can do to make God love us less. This grace and truth offers us a quality of living that shines like a light in the darkness.

The phrase in this passage that sticks in my mind is the one that says, “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it” (Jn. 1:5). There are some difficulties with this verse, including even how to translate it.^{^[3]} But I think the more pressing problem we have to deal with is that Jesus, the light of the world, was brutally executed on a Roman cross. Despite the faith that Jesus was raised from the dead and lives even now, some still today would say that the light of God’s grace and truth and love that Jesus brought into this world has been extinguished by the overwhelming power of darkness in our world. I think those whose lives have been “overcome” by darkness may have difficulty putting their faith in Jesus as the “light of the world.”

But you don’t have to have been totally overcome by the darkness in this world to have known its effect in your life. I would say that most of us here today have experienced some form of darkness in our lives. Whether it’s the greed that deprives us of home or career, or the fear that violence in its many forms can instill, or the anger and even hatred we may feel toward those whom we see as a threat, we have known the power of darkness. I don’t think the promise of the gospel here is that we will never have to suffer from the power of darkness in our world. It is that the darkness, however powerful it may be, does not overcome the light. I like the way the Good News Bible says it: “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has never put it out.”

However dark our lives in this world may get, the light of God’s grace and truth and love in Jesus Christ always shines, and the darkness has never put it out. The faith, hope, and love that God’s love in Jesus brought into this world live on in our hearts, no matter what we have to endure. And the darkness has never put it out. The quality of living that Jesus brought to us through God’s love is like a candle that gives its light to all in darkness, and never stops shining. It’s a different kind of light than what were used to. Candle light is soft, gentle, and reassuring. We may have to look harder for it in the midst of all the other sources of so-called “light” in our world. But the light of God’s grace and truth and love is there, a light shining in the darkness. And that light will continue to drive out the darkness in our world until there is no more darkness. And the darkness will never put it out.

[2]I got the idea from Linda Geddes, “What I Learned by Living without Artificial Light,” BBC Future, April 25, 2018. Accessed at https://www.bbc.com/future/article/20180424-what-i-learnt-by-living-without-artificial-light.

[3] Some versions, like the King James, New King James, and New American Standard, translate the verse, “the darkness did not comprehend it.”

Thursday, January 10, 2019

Living in the Light

Isaiah 60:1-6[1]

I find that, all too often, I suffer from a kind of spiritual “Attention Deficit.” I come to church and worship with great hymns and hear in the Scriptures the great truths and promises and hopes of our faith. Then I get distracted by matters that press upon me with their urgency and demand my attention. Before long, it seems as if I can completely forget it all. I don’t think I’m alone in that problem. I think one of the great challenges in our world so full of screens and lights and sounds and demands is to find a way to remain focused on our faith. It’s so very easy to let all the distractions of our lives cause us to forget the heart of our faith. At times, the light of the Gospel that shines at Christmas gets blurred by all that clamors for our attention.

To some extent, we see this with the “rush” to get things “back to normal” around the house after Christmas. Even though the “Christmas season” lasts from December 25 to January 5, many of us have stripped our homes of all vestige of Christmas before the New Year rolls around. The practical person in me understands that. After all the “hustle and bustle” of Christmas preparations, we want things to “get back to normal.” But the pastor in me wonders if that’s precisely part of the problem. For many of us “normal” means going about our daily routines, doing business as usual, and not really paying much attention to the message of our faith that we have supposedly been “celebrating” at Christmas.

In fact, the season of Epiphany is meant to reinforce the faith that we intend to celebrate at Christmas. I think we don’t really know what to do with Epiphany. We don’t really know what “Epiphany” is about. Today is the “festival of Epiphany.” It’s the day that we commemorate the arrival of the magi. But the “season of Epiphany” lasts from now until Len. The word “epiphany” itself is not one we use much. “Epiphany” literally means “revealing,” or “unveiling.” In this case, it’s a time for us to focus on the ways Jesus revealed himself during his ministry. It’s a time to reinforce our faith that Jesus truly is the light that has come into the darkness.

In our lesson from Isaiah for today, the prophet calls the people of Israel to rejoice over the light that had come to brighten their prospects. In this section of Isaiah, the prophet is addressing a people who have come back from exile with the promise of restoration. But the reality of what they encountered fell far short of their expectations. Jerusalem lay in ruins. Much of the “infrastructure” that supported life had been destroyed. They were surrounded by enemies who were more established and more powerful. They struggled to keep those enemies at bay, let alone to rebuild their city, their homes, their crops, and their lives.

As is often the case in when we are in dire straits, the people turned to religion as a source of security. But there is a big difference between religion as a way of life and religion as a crutch. When you’re strong enough to walk on your own, you may keep the crutch around, but you don’t use it much. That was the case with the people of Israel. The prophet challenged them at many points with the hollow way in which they supposedly worshiped the Lord. They seemed to pay a great deal of attention to the external trappings of their religion, like observing the Sabbath. But all the while they ignored what God desired from them: showing mercy to those in need, practicing true justice in public life, and honoring God from the heart.

Since this was the case, the prophet declared in the name of the Lord that God would come to set things right. God would establish true justice in the land, justice that applied equally to the rich and the poor. God would intervene to halt the various forms of violence that were practiced by the powerful: cheating workers of their wages, stealing assets and resources from the most vulnerable, and all of it to support a lavish lifestyle they thought they deserved. And the prophet promised in the name of the Lord that when God restored the land by banishing violence and establishing true justice, his presence would be like a light that would drive out the darkness, and and they would find the truly “good life” that only God can give.

Although the people of Israel experienced God’s work in their lives in that they had been released from captivity, the circumstances seemed to distract them from the light that had dawned in their lives. They had forgotten the core of their relationship with God. If you’re like me, you may have to admit that we’re more like them than we would like to think. We need to be reminded continually of the promises that lie at the heart of our faith. That’s why we gather for worship: to remind ourselves of our faith and to refocus our lives toward practicing it. I don’t know about you, but if I don’t practice worship on a daily basis, I can easily lose myself and my faith.

Epiphany is about unveiling what Advent and Christmas promises: that “all flesh shall see the salvation of God” (Lk. 3:6); that “the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all people shall see it together” (Isaiah 40:5). That’s why we celebrate Epiphany. It’s a time to remind ourselves that in Jesus a light has dawned that will never go out. Although we may have taken down all the Christmas decorations, perhaps it’s fitting to select a candle to light during the season of Epiphany in order to help us remember our faith. However we accomplish it, this is a time for us to keep our attention on the light of Christ so that we can refocus our lives toward following him. As we do so, the hope is that we will find ourselves living in the light that has dawned for us all in Jesus.

Thursday, April 03, 2014

Healing Light

Ephesians 5:8-14[1]

Another popular misunderstanding about the Christian faith is that if you just give your heart to Jesus, then you will immediately find your life transformed. To be sure, many people experience the release of surrendering control of their lives into the hands of one whom they trust. Many experience the euphoria of their new-found way of life and their new extended family of faith. But, all too often, without proper guidance, many of these new believers cannot be found anywhere near a church within a year. Sometimes less! The truth of the Christian life is that lasting change takes place over time. And despite stories of miraculous transformations, the reality is that it takes concerted effort for most of us to experience genuine change.[2]

I’m not proposing here that finding the joy and peace and love of the new life is some kind of massive self-help project. It always has been and always will be the work of God’s Spirit.[3] But we do have to “work out our own salvation,” as confusing as that may sound to us. I think at least part of what that means is that we have to do the kinds of things that make our hearts and minds available to God’s Spirit. The changes that lead us to the joy and peace and love of God’s kingdom come as the result of a definite decision on our part to take a different direction in our lives.[4]

I think that this is something of what St. Paul was trying to convey in his letter to the Ephesians. Many of the Christians in that area had converted from the worship of local idols, and they were still surrounded by constant reminders of their former life. Even the local Jewish Christians must have experienced the tension of being surrounded by vivid images that Caesar was “Lord,” or Zeus was “Lord.” And so the Apostle was writing to teach them how to reinforce their new faith by making changes to their behavior (Eph. 4:17-24). These changes were specific, including speaking truth, dealing with anger in healthy ways, doing honest work, avoiding slander and gossip, practicing kindness, and showing God’s love to one another (Eph. 4:25-5:2).[5] There was a lot about their former lives that was incompatible with their new faith.[6]

I find it interesting that in our lesson for today, St. Paul tells them that the way they could make these changes was to expose their former way of living to the light of Christ. He likens the promiscuity, depravity, and corruption of their former lives to living in darkness. Using images from Easter, he speaks of the living Christ as a light that has shined upon them.[7] And he observes that whenever the light shines on what is in the darkness, it reveals the true nature of what is going on, whether good or bad.

But more than that, Paul speaks of the light of Christ as a healing light, a light that effects change. He says, “everything exposed by the light becomes visible” and continues by saying, “everything that becomes visible is light” (Eph. 5:13-14). I think what he is saying is that when we open our hearts and our lives to the light of Christ, it changes us[8]. It transforms us from where ever we’ve come and from whatever we’ve been into people who reflect the very same light in our lives.[9] And so Paul calls us all to open ourselves to the healing light of Christ.

Part of how we do that is by moving our lives in a different direction. We have to change how we respond to what comes our way if we want to change how we experience life. [10] I think St. Paul was hinting at what he had said earlier about re-directing their behavior when he says that “the fruit of the light is found in all that is good and right and true” (Eph. 5:9). It seems to me that “all that is good and right and true” is a pretty good summary of what the Christian life is about.[11] If you want to know what changes God’s Spirit will make in your life when you turn to the healing light of Christ, I would say it will be “all that is good and right and true.” That was the goal that St. Paul had for the converts he was encouraging.[12]

I think his instructions for the Christian life still have value for us as well. There is much about our world that is different from St. Paul’s. But there is also much that is very similar. This world surely can feel like a dark place sometimes. And it can seem like an impossible task for us to keep from succumbing to the darkness, or at least being deeply affected by it. I think we need his words now more than ever. If we want to live in an authentically Christian way, if we want to experience genuine change, if we want to learn to practice “all that is good and right and true,” then we too need to open our lives to the healing light of Christ. When we do, it might be painful at first, as all healing is. But the outcome will be joy and peace and love as we reflect his healing light in our lives.

[2] Cf. Tara Brach, True Refuge: Finding Peace and Freedom in Your Own Awakened Heart, 151: “the phrase, ‘Neurons that fire together, wire together’ says it well: When we repeatedly direct our minds toward thoughts and memories that evoke feelings of love (or safety or strength), the very structure of our brains is altered.’ This perspective is the basis of a whole field of scientific research into how the brain works, from the connections between our thoughts and our feelings and our bodies to how to retrain a person who is learning to use a prosthetic limb. Cf. also Margaret M. Polski, Wired for Survival; and Norman Doige, The Brain that Changes Itself.

[3] Cf. Richard Rohr, Breathing Under Water: Spirituality and the Twelve Steps, 41-42, “God does not love us if we change, God loves us so that we can change. Only love effects true inner transformation, not duress, guilt, shunning, or social pressure.” But as he later adds (p. 52), “it is a lot of work to get out of the way and allow that grace to fully operate and liberate”! Cf. also Ralph P. Martin, Ephesians, Colossian, and Philemon, 65.

[4] Cf. Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics, 4.3:512-13, saying of the believer, “ What makes him a Christian is that he has a Lord who to his salvation will not leave him in peace but constantly summons him to wake up again.”

[5] Cf. Martin, Ephesians, Colossian, and Philemon, 60-61, where he attributes these new “down-to-earth behavior patterns” to “living in the network of new social relationships,” and more importantly to their “being-in-Christ,” or their “faith-union with Christ” (p. 58). On the latter idea, see A. T. Lincoln, Ephesians, 327, where he says that the believers “have become identified with the light because of their identification with Christ.”

[6] Cf. Pheme Perkins, “The Letter to the Ephesians,” New Interpreters Bible XI:437, where she recalls the “ridicule and abuse” suffered by new Christians in the Mediterranean world as described in 1 Peter 4:3-5. She goes on to point out that while they are to dissociate from their former behaviors, they are nowhere instructed to dissociate from their former acquaintances. However, in contrast to the approach I am taking to the passage, she suggests that the “exposure” is to take place as Christians call out the behavior of those outside the church. Cf. Similarly, Lincoln, Ephesians, 330. This difference of interpretation is reflected in English translations: for the idea that the light transforms us, see the TEV: “anything that is clearly revealed becomes light” (cf. also TNIV, CEB, and ESV). For the idea that the light exposes the deeds of others, see NLT: “And where your light shines, it will expose their evil deeds” (cf. also MSG, CSB, NIV, NIRV, CEV). It seems to me that Paul’s focus in this passage is primarily on the effect the light has on believers, and so I opt for that interpretation despite the fact that there are many who take the other view.

[7] Cf. Martin, Ephesians, Colossian, and Philemon, 63, where he also points out that Eph. 5:14 is a reminder of baptism (which in the days of the early church was typically observed in connection with Easter). Cf. also Lincoln, Ephesians, 326, 332.

[8] Cf. Rohr, Breathing Under Water, 39, “you cannot heal what you do not acknowledge, and what you do not consciously acknowledge will remain in control of you from within.”

[9] Cf. Brach, Finding Refuge, 151; see also Tara Brach, “Opening the Gateway of Love,” The Huffington Post 12/3/2012; accessed at http://www.huffington post.com/tara-brach/love-healing_b_2192030.html. While I would agree that we can change our outlook, our emotions, and even our lifestyle by focusing our attention on what we want to become, I would say there’s more than that going on in the mind of St. Paul (no pun intended!).

[10] Cf. Brach, Finding Refuge, 118, where she points out that our earliest hurts in life often shape our assumptions and experiences as adults. She says, “As the saying goes, ‘Our memories are Velcro for painful experiences and Teflon for pleasant ones!’ We are very inclined toward building our core beliefs out of experiences of hurt and fear, and holding on to them (and the underlying fears) for dear life.” Cf. also Tara Brach, “Loosening the Grip of Core and Limiting Beliefs,” The Huffington Post 11/29/2012; accessed at http://www.huffingtonpost.com/tara-brach/core-beliefs_b_2204891.html.

[11] Cf. Rohr, Breathing Under Water, 62, “there are ways of living and relating that are honest and sustainable and fair, and there are utterly dishonest ways of living and relating to life. This is our real, de facto, and operative ‘truth,’ no matter whose theories or theologies we believe.”

[12] Cf. Rohr, Breathing Under Water, 31, “the goal is actually not the perfect avoidance of all sin, which is not possible anyway ..., but the struggle itself, and the encounter and wisdom that comes from it.

Thursday, January 23, 2014

Shining Light Into Darkness

Shining Light into Darkness

Isa. 42:1-9; Matt 3:13-17[1]

There are places in our world that are so dark that most of us really don’t want to look at them. Nations where law and order have so broken down that people’s lives are in danger just because they belong to the wrong faith or the wrong political party or the wrong tribe. Cities where the government is so corrupt that money that should provide basic services for those who need them instead lines the pockets of the rich and powerful. Neighborhoods where crime is so rampant that even murder becomes just another part of life. We can see all these dark places in our world just by turning on our TVs and watching the evening news. Many of us have stopped doing that because it’s too disturbing, because the darkness in our world is too close.

Our lesson from Isaiah for today speaks to this. It addresses one whom God would appoint to bring light into the dark places of the world. It speaks of “the Servant of the Lord” who would come to right the wrongs in this world, who would bring God’s justice.[2] As I’ve said many times, I think our idea of justice is very different from the Bible. In our world, “justice” is something that happens in courtrooms. Justice is about arbitrating disputes and determining guilt or innocence and handing down punishments for crimes. But in the Bible, God’s justice means that the hungry are fed, the prisoners are set free, the blind receive their sight, those who are bowed down are lifted up, and the immigrants and the widows and orphans have someone to watch over them. Simply put—God’s justice is the light that shines into all the dark places of the world and makes it possible for all people to thrive equally.

It’s important to notice the way in which the “Servant” in Isaiah establishes this kind of justice. Our lesson says it this way: “a bruised reed he will not break, and a dimly burning wick he will not quench” (Isa. 42:3). I like the way Gene Peterson renders it in The Message translation: “He won’t brush aside the bruised and the hurt and he won’t disregard the small and insignificant.” In addition, the “Servant” is to be “a light to the nations, to open the eyes that are blind, to bring out the prisoners from the dungeon, from the prison those who sit in darkness” (Isa. 42:6-7). If you’re thinking that sounds like a very strange kind of justice, I’m not surprised.[3]

In fact, it would seem that this is the very opposite of the way we think authorities ought to “establish justice” in our world. They are to “crack down” on criminals, without lifting a finger to do anything about the social conditions that create criminals. We want them to carry out the “war on drugs,” but I’m not sure that includes coming up with ways to help those who use illegal drugs to find peace of mind. And when anyone anywhere does violence to us or to our people, we believe that we have a right and obligation to respond to that violence with violence--whether that means waging war or executing violent offenders.

I’m afraid, however, that our version of “justice” has only served to spread the darkness in our world. Our “justice” certainly looks very different from God’s justice. Our justice is a justice of vengeance and force and hostility. Rather than creating the conditions that make for life, it only leads to a “culture of death.”[4] But God’s justice takes place not through vengeance but forgiveness. God’s justice takes place not through violence but compassion. God’s justice takes place not through hostility but mercy. It is a justice that leads to peace. And in order to achieve God’s justice that rights the wrongs and creates the conditions in which all people can thrive, we have to employ God’s ways instead of ours.[5]

I think that’s what the story of Jesus’ baptism in Matthew’s gospel is about. Jesus approaches John to be baptized, and John objects, “I need to be baptized by you” (Mt. 3:14)! Jesus’ response might seem strange at first glance: “it is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness” (Mt. 3:15). One would think that if anyone had “fulfilled all righteousness,” it was Jesus. Once again, I think The Message captures the meaning well: “God’s work, putting things right all these centuries, is coming together right now in this baptism.” I think, in a very real sense, in his baptism Jesus was making a public declaration that he was going to take the side of God’s justice. He was going to set about promoting God’s work of righting the wrongs and lifting the burdens from the oppressed. He was going to shine the light of God’s truth into all the dark places of the world.[6]

And that’s what he did. And the world responded in the way it always does--we don’t much like having our ways criticized or our misdeeds exposed. And so they tried to stifle him by labeling him a criminal and executing him. But those of us who have shared in Jesus’ baptism cannot give our approval to the ways of our world. By sharing his baptism we have taken on the same calling as his--to shine the light of God’s truth and God’s peace and God’s compassion and God’s mercy--in short, the light of God’s justice--into all the dark places of our world.[7]

[2] Cf. Paul D. Hanson, Isaiah 40-66, 42-43.

[3] cf. Hanson, Isaiah 40-66, 45: “Is it possible that the reign of justice can be promoted by ... the express renunciation of force, even by special attention and care to fellow victims who are on the verge of collapse and death?”

[4] John Paul II used this phrase to describe American culture his Homily at Cathedral Basilica of St. Louis, January 27, 1999. He issued a challenge to us in that homily: “If you want peace, work for justice. If you want justice, defend life. It you want life, embrace the truth–the truth revealed by God.”

[5] Cf. Presbyterian Church (USA), The Study Catechism, question 41, which answers “How did Christ fulfill the office of King?” with the response, “With no sword but the sword of righteousness, and no power but the power of love, Christ defeated sin, evil and death by reigning from the cross.” Cf. also Hanson, Isaiah 40-66, 46.

[6] Cf. Donald Hagner, Matthew 1-13, 60: “Thus John and Jesus perform their respective roles, fulfilling ‘all righteousness’ as the salvific will of God now receives expression in the inauguration of the kingdom and the arrival of a new and crucial stage of salvation-history; cf. also Douglas R. A. Hare, 21-22; W. D. Davies and D. C. Allison, Matthew 1-7, 327. Contrast Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics 4.4:15, where he suggests that the “righteousness” Jesus fulfills is the judgment of God announced by John, which he takes upon himself at the cross.

[7] Cf. Hanson, Isaiah 40-66, 46-47: “The community called and upheld by God, by discharging the patient faithful witness assigned to the Servant, becomes the instrument through which the nations are drawn into the covenant relationship marked by God’s reign of justice.”

Tuesday, December 31, 2013

Light Overcoming Darkness

Heb. 2:10-18[1]

For many of us, there is no darkness we fear more than death. It is the ultimate unknown. I realize that when we are young, death may seem remote and almost unreal. Until someone your age passes away. Someone you knew and perhaps even loved. Then the stark reality of death hits you. And when it does, most of us are unprepared for the fear that grips us. In response to that fear, we seem obsessed in this culture with keeping death as far away from us as possible. And perhaps for good reason--there seems to be no logic, no rhyme or reason to the way the “grim reaper” takes its victims. Our inability to make any sense out of death only increases our fear.[2] But our New Testament lesson for today presents us with the good news that, because we bear this burden of mortality, Jesus also came as one of us, made of flesh and blood. He came not only to show us God’s unfailing love and abiding presence with us, but he also came specifically bearing our mortality so that he could die. And the purpose of his death was to “free those who all their lives were held in slavery by the fear of death” (Heb. 2:15). Though the text doesn’t spell out precisely how it is that he sets us free from the fear of death, the gospel message elsewhere reminds us that Jesus didn’t just come to die, but also to be raised from the dead, and to triumph over all the powers of darkness in this world, most importantly death.

Part of the purpose of his coming in the vulnerability of our flesh and blood was to demonstrate that our God is not so high and exalted as to be unconcerned with and unmoved by our burdens.[3] Rather, by entering our broken and confusing existence as Immanuel, “God with us,” Jesus took upon all the burdens that we bear.[4] And so he made it clear that God is not the cold and distant deity whom people have cringed before, and at times even hated. Rather, God is the one who loves us so much that, as we say in one of our statements of faith, Jesus died to show us God’s love as “a love that is ready to suffer for our sakes.”[5]

That was the conclusion Dietrich Bonhoeffer came to as he sat in his cell in a Gestapo prison camp. He said, “God lets himself be pushed out of the world on to the cross. He is weak and powerless in the world, and that is precisely the way, the only way, in which he is with us and helps us. … only the suffering God can help.”[6] And our lesson for today says it this way: “Because he himself was tested by what he suffered, he is able to help those who are being tested” (Heb. 2:18).

But that really is the question, isn’t it? Can a God who is vulnerable enough to enter our brokenness really be powerful enough to do something about it? It would seem that a God who is able to suffer with us is a God who is just as impotent as we are in the face of our suffering and ultimately our experience of death. In fact, that has been what some have concluded: God loves us, and God suffers with us, but at the end of the day, that’s about all God can do for us.[7] If that’s the case, I’m not sure many would conclude that God is “able to help” us at all.

Others are unwilling to relegate God (and us) to such a helpless state in which our experience with death leaves us with a mystery of suffering that we cannot solve. So they insist that though our experience of suffering and death may be burdensome to us now, God will ultimately bring good from it.[8] Once again, while there is some comfort to that, “ultimately” can seem like a very long time. Sometimes it can be a very long time. So what are we to do in the meanwhile? How does the suffering love of our vulnerable God help us then?

Well, for one thing, I think we must not underestimate the power of that love that was poured out at the cross. It may look like the Jesus who dies on that cross was just as weak as any other man. It may look like God is unable to do anything except suffer the pain of watching his son die. And yet, if we were to conclude that, we would be vastly underestimating the power of God’s love.[9] Yes, love can be vulnerable. It does not retaliate, it does not lash out at those who may in fact take the life of the one who loves. But love always breaks the power of evil. As we say in that same confession, “An abyss of suffering” has been “swallowed up by the suffering of divine love.”[10] Love always wins the day, no matter how long it takes.

But there is more to it than that. Although our lesson doesn’t mention it, surely the implication is there: Jesus did not remain in the grave. Death was not powerful enough to hold him. God raised him from the dead, and by so doing not only vindicated the power of suffering love, but also demonstrated that God does more than “just” suffer with us when we suffer. Rather, the resurrection is the demonstration that “God’s light is more real than all the darkness, that God’s truth is more powerful than all human lies, that God’s love is stronger than death.”[11] And so in the vulnerability of Jesus taking on flesh and blood and dying for us all, and in the astonishing power of God raising him to life, we see God’s light overcoming all the darkness, even the darkness of death. And, as the Scripture says, “The light keeps shining in the dark, and darkness has never put it out” (Jn. 1:5, CEV)![12]

[2] Cf. especially Paul Tillich, “The Destruction of Death,” in The Shaking of the Foundations, 170: “fear is, above all, fear of the unknown; and the darkness of the unknown is filled with the images created by fear. ... this is true to an absolute degree with respect to death -- the absolutely unknown.” Cf. also Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics 3.2:601: “Death is the great mark of the unnatural state in which we exist.”

[3] Cf. Jürgen Moltmann, The Spirit of Life: A Universal Affirmation, 130-31: “the messianic Son of God unreservedly takes on himself the conditions of our vulnerable and mortal existence, and becomes a human being like us. ... In this sense ‘the sufferings of Christ’ are not just Jesus’ sufferings; they are the sufferings of the poor and weak, which Jesus shares in his own body and his own soul, in solidarity with them.”

[4] Cf. Barth, Church Dogmatics 1.2:152: “That the Word became ‘flesh’ in this definite sense, this consummation of God’s condescension, ...: this is the revelation of the Word of God.” Cf. also ibid. 4.1:165: “the ancient creeds were also right when under the concepts passus, crucifixus, mortuus, sepultus [suffered, crucified, died, buried], they believed that they were saying everything that is decisive about the man Jesus.”

[5] The Study Catechism (1998), question 8.

[6] Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Letters and Papers from Prison, 219-220. Cf. also Moltmann, Spirit of Life 131, where he echoes Bonhoeffer, and adds, “it is true that a God who cannot suffer, and suffer with us, could not even understand us.”

[7] Cf. especially, Harold Kushner, When Bad Things Happen to Good People. Kushner and his wife endured the loss of their young son, and in the face of such intense suffering, he concluded that God loves us and wants the best for us but is basically powerless to do anything about it.

[8] Cf., for example Frederick Buechner, Wishful Thinking, 24: “Christianity … ultimately offers no theoretical solution [to the problem of evil]. It merely points to the cross and says that, practically speaking, there is no evil so dark and so obscene—not even this—but that God can turn it to good.” Cf. similarly, Charles Poole, Is Life Fair? 68: “Ultimately, finally, God will have the last word, and the goodness and grace of God will triumph and prevail over all that is evil and hurtful and destructive and wrong.” I do not wish to dispute these statements. I find them meaningful. I only wish to comment on the very human difficulty of placing all one’s hopes on “ultimately.”

[9] To this end, Steven R. Harmon, “Hebrews 2:10-18,”Interpretation 59 (Oct 2005), wisely reminds us that neither an “unnuanced” theopassianism (God suffers with us) nor an “unnuanced” affirmation of divine impassibility (God is incapable of suffering) will do. He presents the balance in perhaps the clearest way I have ever seen (pp. 405-6): “To affirm that God suffers when God's creatures suffer rightly maintains God's sympathy and solidarity with those who suffer. To affirm this without further qualification, however, overlooks the dissimilarity between God's relationship to suffering and the human sufferer's relationship to suffering. Much human suffering is against our will; God's suffering is always voluntary.” He adds (p. 406): “Only the suffering God can help, but it is only the suffering of the God who has greater power than we do over suffering that is able to help.”

[10] The Study Catechism (1998) question 45.

[11] Henri Nouwen, Here and Now, 32.

[12] Cf. G. C. Berkouwer, The Work of Christ, 337-39, where he emphasizes that “The light that emanates from Christ’s victory is consequently a bright light” by pointing out how affirmations of Christ’s victory over death and the powers that suppress humanity echo throughout the New Testament.

The Waking Dreamer