They say confession is good for the soul. Well, I've been keeping something from you for a few weeks.
After one term at Regent College, I'm excited about my studies. I must admit, though, that there have been a few times when one of my pre-conceived fears of theological study have materialized right before my eyes. I have my doubts about studying theology, ie. God. Bugs are for studying. Physics is for studying. Astronomy is for studying. God is for entering into relationship with. I'm not sure we should be putting God under a microscope, and I don't think it's anybody's business what her favorite colour is.
So with that fear in mind, let me tell you about the visual I saw a while back. I say "visual" and not "vision" intentionally. I don't know if Someone was trying to tell me something, or if I came up with this all on my own in a salsa-induced haze. Never the less it was quite clear. It's rather disgusting, if you ask me, so be warned.
I saw a rather "classic" image of Jesus on the cross. Dirty and sweaty, crown of thorns, head turned to the side, rough wooden cross - you know the one. Here's the problem: His torso was split open. The Son of God had been autopsied, and his insides were on display like on a bad episode of CSI. I warned you. I'm going to keep that image in front of me as my studies progress. It'll be my litmus test.
Anyway... perhaps you can understand my hesitancy to share this with you. However, I was reminded of my visual by something I read in The Great Divorce this morning. Check this out:
'How fantastic!' said I.
'Do ye think so?' said the Teacher with a piercing glance. 'It is nearer to such as you than ye think. There have been men before now who got so interested in proving the existence of God that they came to care nothing for God Himself... as if the good Lord had nothing to do but exist! There have been some who were so occupied in spreading Christianity that they never gave a thought to Christ. Man! Ye see it in smaller matters. Did ye ever know a lover of books that with all his first editions and signed copies had lost the power to read them? Or an organizer of charities that had lost all love for the poor? It is the subtlest of all the snares.'
That is a snare I'll be watching for.
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